by L. A. Meyer
Jaimy puts his arm around me and I lay my head on his shoulder and bury my nose in the tousled black hair behind his ear.
After a few more delicious moments, I rise up on an elbow and run my fingers through that thick dark hair. Well, almost all dark—there is now a streak that runs through it, and I know it comes from the head wound he suffered last year during a battle with a French squadron in the Mediterranean. The hair above the scar has grown in pure white.
"Your slash of silver hair looks quite dashing, Jaimy. It matches my eyebrow."
"Well, since I have no choice, I shall wear it. Now lie you back down."
I lay my head back down again and press myself against him. "Pet me, Jaimy."
And he does, and I purr...Ummmmm...
Ding,ding ... Ding, ding ... Ding ... The quarterdeck bell is tolling Six Bells in the Morning Watch, telling us that it is six thirty and breakfast is about to be served.
"We must get up soon, Jaimy."
"I want to lie here next to you forever."
"Me, too, but duty calls. If I know the Royal Navy, the Dolphin will be alongside within the hour, ready to start the day's work. So you must get up and go off, dear, for I have to get dressed and make myself presentable, which is something, believe me, that you do not want to witness."
He plants a kiss at the base of my throat, then rolls out of bed and begins pulling on his clothes. I cannot help but watch and admire the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips, the length of his legs. Oh, yes.
"Please come back at Seven Bells, Jaimy. I've arranged for us to have a private breakfast."
After he is dressed once again in his trousers and shirt, he reaches for his uniform jacket, but I say, "Don't bother with that, Jaimy, not just yet. It's too warm. We don't stand on ceremony here." He nods, throws the coat over the back of a chair, then comes back to stand next to me. He strips off the sheet that covers me, leans down to place a kiss on my tattoo, and says, "The Dread Brotherhood of the Dolphin forever!" He then tousles my hair and strides out the door.
Hear, hear.
I get up, go to my washstand, do the necessaries, wash parts, dry myself, and dress. I just throw on one of my simple dresses, 'cause I figure I'll be in my swimsuit before noon.
As I am pulling the frock over my head, there is a knock on the door, and after I say, "Come in," Joannie enters, bearing a tray with silverware, two cups, and a steaming pot of coffee. She also wears a huge smirk on her face.
"What's with the look?" I ask, thinking perhaps that Jemimah has been regaling the kids with another Rabbit Tale. But, no, that is not it.
She glances over at the rumpled bed and giggles.
Hmmmm...
"Never mind that, you," I say, sternly, "just set the table. Keep your mind on your job and out of other people's business, you hear?"
Just then Jaimy comes back to my cabin, looking grand in his tight pants, boots, and open white shirt.
Joannie looks at him and turns bright red, snorting with the effort to keep from laughing out loud with delight. She manages to get the small table set and then leaves.
I shall have to talk to that girl ... Grrrrr...
Jaimy seats himself, and I get up to pour him a cup. I am not used to doing this sort of thing, but I know it is expected, so I do it.
"Who is the girl?" asks Jaimy, plopping a few lumps of sugar into his coffee.
"Her name is Joan Nichols, and she is my ... responsibility. And if she thinks she is too big to be spanked, she is sadly mistaken."
Jaimy laughs. "You always did want things your own way, didn't you? I certainly recall your bullying the rest of us into submission on the Dolphin."
"Well, all of you were certainly in need of correction, that's for sure," I answer primly. "And I think you all were the better for it, so there."
There is a discreet knock, so I know it is not Joannie. The door opens and Higgins enters, bearing yet another tray.
"Good morning, Miss ... Lieutenant Fletcher ... I hope you slept well."
"Yes, we did, Higgins, and thank you," say I, seating myself at the table. Higgins does not have to do this, as he is the Chief Executive Officer of Faber Shipping Worldwide, but still I appreciate it.
He removes the covers of the dishes, revealing eggs with bright yellow yolks, bacon, sausage, fried potatoes, and buttered toast, and we fall to as Higgins takes his leave.
"This is really quite good, Jacky."
"Yes, Jemimah is a fine cook."
"Is she your slave?"
"No, she is not. Like everyone else of my crew, she is an employee of Faber Shipping and shares in all of our profits. When we have any."
"It was good seeing Davy and Tink again. Hard to believe so many of us are once again on the same ship. We lack only Benjy and Willie."
I imagine that all was easy between the lads when Jaimy appeared on deck this morning. I suspect there was a lot of male braying and punching and back thumping—anything to conceal the real affection between them. 'Course, as soon as the Dolphin gets here, his uniform jacket goes back on, and then it'll be Mr. Fletcher again and not their old mate Jaimy. That is exactly why I had asked him to leave it off, at least for now.
"We shall forever lack Benjy, at least till we go to our reward, but Willie we may someday see."
"And here you are with your own ship," he says, looking around at my neat little cabin. "Just like you always wanted."
"And there you are, a fine young Lieutenant in the Royal Navy. Something you always wanted."
"I have, however, not gotten everything I wanted, though." He looks at me with real heat in his gaze.
"Me either, Jaimy. Not yet, I haven't." I put down my fork and put my hand on his. "But we must be patient and hope for the future."
He nods. "I worry about that diving bell, though. It has to be dangerous."
I worry about it, too, I want to say, but I don't. There's no sense upsetting the boy any more than he is. "Tilly says we'll take it easy at first. I'll go down only five or ten fathoms," is what I do say. "You'll be standing by. You'll see. It'll be all right."
Again he nods, but he appears unconvinced. I try another tack.
"You should come down with me. Oh, just for a shallow dive. Tink is very good at making the goggles, and he could fit you with a pair. You'll find it is very beautiful down there, with fishes like little jewels, forests of waving ferns, sunlight streaming down. What do you say? It'd be fun."
His fork stops on the way to his mouth. It is plain that he would not find it fun at all. I have found that sailors would much rather be on top of the water than under it. And while I know that Jaimy would die for me—he has already proven that—he is more than a little afraid to dive down deep.
"Um ... yes ... ahem. Well, we shall see."
Poor Jaimy. I'll let you off the hook. "Well, perhaps we won't have the time."
His fork stays suspended in midair. "And speaking of swimming ... that ... costume ... you were wearing yesterday..."
"My swimming suit, you mean?"
"Yes," he says, reddening. "You have to wear that?"
"Yes, dear, I must." I put my hand on his, give him the big eyes, and recount for him the moray eel incident.
"Um."
"Don't worry, dear, my crew is well used to my eccentric ways."
"Yes, but the crew of the Dolphin is not."
No, but they will be soon, count on it.
"Please, Jaimy, I really don't mind."
"I believe I shall be confiscating telescopes," he says, cracking a slight smile.
I smile back at him, pat his hand, and go back to my breakfast.
"I think you ought to suggest to the Captain that a lifeboat be stationed several miles to the east, between here and Havana, in case the San Cristobal does come out. Then we would not be surprised and could get in fighting trim before she came upon us. We'd get the weather gauge and sail up wind of him and all."
"Um. Yes. Good idea."
I spear another fat sausage, and a
s I chew it, I ruminate. "Maybe the fact that you are out here will keep him in port, which would be good."
"How's that?"
"He might be afraid to come out. And believe me, he will know very shortly that the Dolphin is on station here." Many small fishing boats have gone past us on the way to Cuba, and they will tell of a British ship lying not far offshore.
"Hmmm ... I'm afraid Captain Hudson may send in a personal challenge."
"That would not be a wise thing to do. The San Cristobal is not the only Spanish warship in Havana Harbor. Captain Morello could bring out a fleet."
Finally, we finish up, pat our lips with our napkins—fine white ones with Faber Shipping's blue anchor logo stitched in the corner—and lean back to enjoy a second cup of coffee, and each other's dear company.
But such is not to be.
There is a knock on the door, and Jim Tanner's voice calls out, "The Dolphin is coming alongside, Missy."
I rise and take Jaimy's jacket and hold it open for him. "Come, love, you must dress, and then so must I."
He dons the coat, which I button up for him and smooth over his chest with my fingertips, and then I hold my face up to his.
"Now give your salty sea sailor lass a kiss, Jaimy, then off with you. It is time for each of us to turn out and tend to our duties."
Chapter 31
After I have put on my swimming suit and strapped my shiv to my calf, I pick up my goggles and head out onto the deck. I have a towel thrown over my shoulder, but I do not wrap it around me. They are just going to have to get used to it.
The raft is tied to the starboard side of the Nancy B., and the Dolphin looms over our port side. The great metal diving bell squats on the bigger ship's main hatch top and preparations are being made to hoist it up and swing it over to our deck.
I go to the raft, where I see that Joannie is already suited up and on it.
"Jacky! Look!" she cries, holding something up. "Tink has made these swim-finny things for us! Come on, let's try them out!"
Tossing my towel and goggles down to her, I step up on the Nancy B.'s starboard rail and get ready to dive off.
Once again I reach back with my forefingers to pull the back of my traitorous suit down over my cheeks—I've got to get that fixed—and lift my arms over my head.
"Eyes on your job, you dogs!" shouts someone on the Dolphin, someone who might well be Jaimy, "or your backs will pay, by God!"
I dive, and hit the water cleanly, swim a few strokes underwater, and then surface next to the raft and clamber on. I am now out of sight of those on the Dolphin, except for anyone who might be in the top rigging, above the Royal spars. The Top, however, does seem to be unusually well staffed today.
Am I showing off? Of course I am. It's in my nature, and besides, this is my ship, so I'll act as I please.
"Here, Jacky, look how cunning these are made," says Joannie. "Here's how they fit on."
The fins are each made of a wood shingle to which is attached a leather saddlelike thing that your foot fits in, with a strap across the instep to hold everything snug. Out by the toes, the thin end of the shingle has three very whippy pieces of leather affixed. I wave one of the shoelike things around in the air. It sure looks like a fish's fin.
Yes! Let's try 'em!
I lift my knees to my chest and strap on the fins. Joan-nie already has hers on.
We adjust our goggles, and I say "Let's go!" and we both roll over the side of the raft and into the water.
It takes a little getting used to, but as soon as we learn to wiggle our legs just right, we swim at least twice as fast through the water as we could before. We gambol about down there within the space of our two chestfuls of air and then joyously burst through the surface, side by side, rejoicing in our new agility.
"We have become true mermaids, Sister!" I exult, clasping her slippery form to me, and we both laugh and sing out our joy.
But then we stop, for over us falls a shadow. The bell has been hoisted and it is now right above us.
"It's too heavy for the raft!" I shout. "Put it on the deck!"
John Thomas and Finn McGee put their shoulders to the capstan wheel, winch the bell higher, and swing it back over the deck. Then they throw the ratchet bar and winch it down till it rests on the deck.
I jump out of the water and crawl over the rail, to stand next to the thing. I see that there have been some changes made in it. When I had last seen it, the lead weights keeping the bell upright and the air trapped within had been held by short lengths of chain. Now they are at the ends of six stiff legs, four feet in length. Plenty of room for the diver to get out beneath ... I hope.
I nip underneath and see the same thick wood bench for the diver to sit on ... and there are small viewing windows at either end of the bench. Some iron handles have been added to the inside, should things start to get rough, though I really don't know what help they would be if this thing were to tip over at two hundred feet below.
I duck my head and come back out and find Professor Tilden rubbing his hands in anticipation of a test dive of his wonderful diving bell.
"My dear, this is going to be such a marvelous thing!"
I stand there, the water still streaming off me, and say, "I hope so, Professor. The bottom is flat and sandy and only sixty feet below. It should be a good place to test this thing."
"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" he exclaims. "Let us get on with it!"
Tilly is a dear man, but sometimes I wish he did not treat me as one of his laboratory rats.
He contains himself and says, "Now, dear, there are several things to remember. There will be an assortment of ropes inside the bell connected to those of us above by a system of pulleys—two tugs on the rope that ends with one monkey-fist knot means come down gradually till you tug again. There will also be a rope ending in two monkey-fist knots." I can see the various ropes laid out next to the bell. "One sharp pull signals stop, two tugs on that means come up slowly till you tug again. Four tugs means bring it up all the way. The rope with three knots will have a net bag at the end of it to bring up whatever you find. Do you understand?"
I nod and ready myself to get in. I put my goggles on my forehead. I still have my feet fins on and feel that I must look like the perfect frog.
"And one other thing," continues Tilly. "If you go down in the bell, you must come up in the bell."
"All right," I say, "but why?"
"There are scientific considerations," Tilly says, then sniffs. "Never you mind. Just remember."
There are some thumps on the deck, and I see that both Captain Hudson and Jaimy have joined us, as well as Dr. Sebastian. Jaimy looks worried and Dr. Sebastian glances over dubiously at Professor Tilden, I believe for the first time questioning his scientific credentials.
"All right, in you go, Jacky," says Tilly. "Let us go for twenty minutes on the first descent, shall we."
Dr. Sebastian looks pained. "Perhaps, Professor, we should start with ten minutes. After all, we do not know how long the air trapped in the bell will last her. In addition, she will be going through extreme exertions in swimming in and out of the device, and in the process using up a lot of oxygen. Hmmm...?"
"Very well," says Tilly, slightly miffed. "Ten minutes it is. Are you ready, girl?"
"Yes," I say, and instead of giving Jaimy the big-eyed worried look that I want to give, I toss him a wink and a carefree grin, and duck under the lower edge of the bell.
Inside, I climb up the ladder attached to the inside and seat myself on the bench and wait.
Soon I feel a jerk as the winch engages, and I feel myself and the bell lifted. Looking down, I see the deck fall away, then I see the Nancy B.'s rail go by, and then, under me, there is nothing but water. I hear the ratchet thrown again as the winch turns in the other direction and the water comes up toward me.
When the lower edge of the bell breaks through the surface, the water beneath my feet immediately flattens out and it is like looking down through a big version of our glas
s-bottomed buckets. I can see perfectly, all the way to the bottom, which is good, as I'll be able to see what I'm coming down on. It looks like a clear stretch of sand below, which is also good. There'll be no stand of coral to catch one leg of the bell and tip it over and me out.
There is a good deal of light coming in through the viewing windows and the open bottom, so I check out the knotted ropes hanging next to me. All seems in order. I peek out the windows, but all I see is blueness there, for the real show is below. A large skate flies lazily across my field of vision, as I am down far enough now to make out smaller fishes grazing amongst patches of seaweed.
The surface of the water has come up some and my ears are starting to hurt, both caused, as I was told by Tilly, by the compression of the air inside the bell. As instructed, I swallow a few times and hold my nose shut and blow, and I hear a little pop ... fizzz and the ears don't hurt anymore. Good.
I'm about twenty feet from the bottom and decide to test the rope signals. I reach out to give a yank to the line knotted with the two monkey ists, which goes through a pulley above me and then snakes down and out the bottom of the bell. It stops its descent.
Well, good. At least that works. Let's see if this does.
I bring my goggles down over my eyes, make them snug, take three deep breaths, hold the last, slide my bottom off the bench, and plunge feet-first into the water below me.
I take a moment to get my bearings, then with a flick of my feet ins, I glide out from under the bell.
This is really not so bad, not so bad at all. I'm down forty feet, and I didn't have to swim for it; all I had to do was sit there and then pop out from under. Pretty neat.
I twist and look up to the surface shining above me. The dark hulls of the Nancy B. and the Dolphin loom above, with their anchor lines trailing down—there's the Dolphin's big hook right over there, half buried in the sand and holding well. That is good, for I don't want my bell dragged all over the bottom of the sea.
I see also the raft at the Nancy B.'s side, and what appear to be two people leaning over the side and peering down through the glass-bottomed buckets. There is also a whitesuited form, which I know to be Joannie, floating out to the side. I wave to all, and Joannie waves back as I head under the bell to resurface inside. Then it's up the ladder and back on the bench to give the one-knotted rope two quick tugs.