In the Belly of the Bloodhound: Being an Account of a Particularly Peculiar Adventure in the Life of Jacky Faber

by L. A. Meyer

  "Dump 'em, you ninny, what the 'ell did you think we'd do wi' 'em? But we ain't supposed to talk to yiz, so shut yer gob."

  A real friendly type, I can tell.

  "I know that, Jocko," I says back at him, keeping in the Cockney way of talking to maybe get a little familiar with him. "But when you put them over the side, will you give 'em a bit of a rinse?" The tubs are made of shiny tin, so they would rinse right clean.

  "Nay. Just dump. Now put on them hooks," says the man. I can see the outline of his head up there silhouetted against the light.

  "Here, Rose. Take your hook and put it through the eye there. That's it. Now hold it there till they take up the slack. Good. All right, Jocko, haul away!"

  I hear the sound of a winch being ratcheted up on deck and the strain is taken on the cable and the tub rises up and through the hatch. It is then swung to the side and disappears. While waiting for the empty tub to return, I notice for the first time a metal eye on the edge of the bottom of the other tub. Ah. So that is how the job is done—the tub is swung outboard, another line is attached to that bottom eyelet, a strain is taken on that line, the tub is lowered and so upends itself and empties into the sea. Neat. I like to know how things are done.

  The first tub swings back in and comes down fast. It has not been rinsed. Damn. It would be such a simple thing for them to do, too.

  "Oow, Jocko, you didn't rinse it, and you seem like such a nice cove, you do."

  "Stoof it and hook up the other one or we'll send the Dummy down to do it."

  "Now, ducks, is that any way to speak to a lady? No, it ain't. Now be a luv and rinse out this one. There you go, mate, hooks on—haul away."

  Again the tub rises and again it disappears through the hatch and again returns, unrinsed. The hooks are withdrawn and the hatch slams shut without another word from the men. We'll see next time, Jocko...

  Later, we have our first French lesson from Lissette, it being mostly call-and-response, of course, having no blackboard and no books, but Lissette does a pretty good job of it, even providing a clear explanation of the future subjunctive case, which I've always found rather baffling. After that is done, I take one of my petticoats and make a great show of tearing part of it into small rags. We each wear two petticoats under our dress, Mistress having been very strict in the matter of the uniformity of our costume, but we sure don't need either one of them here.

  "I think we should each claim a sleeping spot, so we can have a place to keep our cups and our dresses when we're not wearing them," I say when I see that I have their attention. "You could mark your place by folding up one of your petticoats and putting it there." All of our underclothes have our initials on them in ink. I keep on ripping and talking. "I think we should spread out equally on each side of the Balcony, not sleep all on one side like we did last night"

  Saying that, I take my ripped strips of cloth and my cup of water and go up the stairs to the port Balcony, walk a few steps along it, then stop. I want to be close to the stairs so I can get up unobserved in the night. I put down my cup, which still is half full, and I reach up under my dress and pull down my other petticoat, fold all but one of my strips in it, and arrange it so that the J. F. mark shows and put it up next to the hull wall.

  Then I go to the edge of the Balcony and sit down. I know they're all still watching me as I dip my rag in my cup enough to moisten it and then I proceed to wash my face—it's not much of a wash, with only a damp rag, but it's something and it feels good. I close my eyes and revel in this small pleasure, and when I open them, I see the girls arranging themselves on the Balcony, and I hear the ripping of fabric.

  We'll see who gets dirty, Sin-Kay.

  After I've gotten the still-helpless Rebecca and the still-distraught Elspeth arranged in place on either side of my pillow, I use my cloth to clean Rebecca's face, and the coolness of it revives her a bit, so she's able to sit up and lean her back against the wall. That's a good sign.

  Leaving them there, I go back to the Stage and announce, "Officers' Call," the traditional signal for the officers to gather for a conference. When Dolley and Clarissa look at me, I motion with my head for them to follow me down into the Pit. Clarissa, who has, of course, taken up residence on the opposite part of the Balcony from me, arranges her bundle to her liking and then follows, as does Dolley.

  "We've got to talk," I say to the two of them in a low voice so I can't be overheard by the other girls. "First, let's show Dolley the Rat Hole."

  We do it, and when she sees it she says, "But what's the plan? We certainly can't get through that. I certainly can't" she says, looking down at her rather ample chest. Dolley carries a considerable bit of tail, too, but it is all arranged in a pleasing way—she certainly didn't lack for gentlemen callers back at the school. Thinking of the school gives me a sharp pang of homesickness, but I push it down.

  "We are going to widen it out."

  "But how?"

  "Yes, how, Commander Know-it-all?" echoes Clarissa, her voice heavy with scorn.

  "With this." And with that, I pull my shiv out of my sleeve. Even in the dim light down here, the blade shines, its edge sharp as a razor and the cock's head I had carved on the handle, so long ago, grinning evilly.

  "Where did you get that?" asks Dolley, her eyes wide in wonder. I believe she has forgotten her seasickness.

  "I had it stashed in my seabag, which I managed to kick down into the Hold when all eyes were on you two while you were talking with that evil Simon," I say. I had taken the blade out this morning when no one was looking and had decided then to hide it separate from the bag, in case the bag was discovered. There's a lot of stuff in that bag that'll come in handy, but without the knife, we are lost.

  "We can set up shifts of two girls each—one carves away while the other rests, and they pass the knife back and forth. If we do it throughout each day when we have light, we'll have it wide enough in no time. We're under the Stage here and can't be spotted from above." At that, we all look up at the light coming through the slats of the Stage. Dolley nods in agreement.

  "But what then?" asks the ever-doubtful Clarissa.

  "We see what's on the other side, is what. We know the galley is over there, and so we know we can steal fire. We can steal other things we'll need, too," I whisper urgently. "And we know there's a powder magazine over there, too. Did you notice the six guns on deck when we were brought aboard? There's got to be powder for them."

  "We're going to shoot them?" asks Dolley. "I don't know if the girls are—"

  "No. Here's the plan as I have roughed it out: We get through to the other side. We find the powder magazine. We make a fuse. On the day of our escape, we create a diversion, get all the men on deck and all the girls through the Rat Hole and into one of those lifeboats hanging outboard. We light the fuse, lower the boat, and get away from the ship. We will have already disabled the other lifeboat so it can't be launched to chase us down. I know how to sail that boat—hell, I could sail this one, but I don't think we've got enough strength to overpower the crew, as they're a grim, mean bunch. So anyway, the powder blows, the wretched Bloodhound sinks, and we sail away to the shipping lanes to the north. If we have good weather, we're sure to be picked up shortly by a passing warship or merchantman, and back we go to Boston."

  It is wonderful to see the glimmer of hope, however slight, shine in their faces—the chance, though right now very slim, of going home.

  "Course, there's lots to be done between now and then, and I ain't figured out everything yet, but—"

  "But it's a chance!" says Clarissa, pounding one fist into the palm of the other. "It's a real chance! Let's start right now! Give me that knife!"

  "Not just yet. Let's give the girls some time to settle in and get used to things. I don't want them to know anything about this at all—not the knife, not the plan, not anything. If we are betrayed, we are lost, and we don't know how strong some of the girls would be in the face of temptation. No, let's wait, we have time—this is only
the second day and it will take at least a month to get us over to wherever they're planning to sell us. In a little while we'll know better how things lie. Agreed?"

  They both nod.

  "Good. Now let's get the girls settled in their routines. It will give them some comfort. I, myself, am looking forward to Hepzibah's choral practice this afternoon."

  And this evening later, much, much later, I'm looking forward to visiting an old and very dear friend...

  Chapter 21

  I lie here in the dark and I wait. And while I wait, I think back on the events of this evening.

  The early-evening choral practice went wonderfully, with Hepzibah placing us in ranks on the Stage in a similar manner to where we once stood before Signor Fracelli—sopranos in the middle, altos to either side. We did Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze," which went over well, in spite of the fact that we didn't have a written score in front of us. We ran over some rough spots several times, but memory served and we eventually got it right. I wonder what the scum up above thought of the sounds of music coming from the helpless captives below. Could this be how the quality acts in times of trouble, scum?

  Then the shutters came slamming down again at six in the evening, right between the two dogwatches, and we were thrown again into darkness, but not before we all got back to our kips and settled in before it happened. The girls are beginning to live according to the bells of the various watches.

  I lie here and think, and I know the others are doing the same. It's plenty light out and too early to go to sleep just yet. There's no reason to shut us down this early. We'll have to bring it up with Sin-Kay in the morning, and I think we should have some of the other girls speak up to Sin-Kay so he doesn't get the idea that me and Dolley and Clarissa are the leaders, 'cause then he might—

  "Jacky...," a voice says from the dark—whose voice, I don't know.

  "What?"

  "How do you think they managed to capture us like this? How did they get away with it? It all seems so bizarre..."

  I sit up and collect my thoughts on that, then I say, "I think it probably went something like this: Simon and Jerome come up to Boston, probably on some other business—runaway slave or something like that. Simon, smarting over some slight from Clarissa's dad and looking for an easy score, cases out the school. They find the surly Dobbs, plainly dissatisfied with his station in life. They get him drunk and talking, and then they present him with what he thinks is the offer of a lifetime—turned out to be just so, though the lifetime turned out to be shorter than he expected. So Simon has cards printed up that say 'Harrison's Tours—See the Beautiful Massachusetts Bay in all its splendor—scientific day tours.' Dobbs shows it to Mr. Sackett, who has a fine inquisitive mind and loves fieldwork and is a lover of birds, too. And he's thinking, Oh, who knows what species we might see out there on a far island?"

  "He said exactly that," says a voice that is plainly Dorothea's, she having been Mr. Sackett's special student. "He said that on that very morning."

  "Mr. Sackett then enthusiastically presents the idea to Mistress, and she is skeptical, of course, but Simon arranges to meet her, and, as the suave Mr. Harrison, shows her he knows how to act the perfect gentleman, and he presents her with seemingly solid letters of reference. Sin-Kay, as Jerome, is around playing the clown to endear himself to the girls and to show how happy and harmless everything is, and Mistress agrees—after all, she's going along, too, as well as Higgins and Mr. Sackett. Don't forget, it's springtime for Mistress, too, and she thinks she'd probably enjoy the day. That's how the job was done. Dobbs poisoned the three of them the next day, and we all got in the coaches as meek as mice. It was nicely done, I must say. I don't think I could have come up with a better plan, myself."

  Silence.

  Then another, smaller voice comes out of the dark. "I know you said we'd get out of this, Jacky. But what if we don't? What will happen if they get us to Africa?"

  Ah, the night dreads. During the day you are able to be strong, face things a little more bravely, but then comes the night...

  "Well, I imagine we'll be taken ashore, cleaned up, examined as to the state of our virtue, and then one by one, or maybe in small groups sometimes, we'll be put up on the auction block, which is rather like a small stage, and sold to the highest bidder." I decide to be frank in this matter, to strengthen their resolve to escape that fate. "I've heard that you are stripped naked when you are on the block, but I don't know for sure..." There are gasps of shock from all around me. "Let's ask Clarissa. Clarissa, was it like that when you bought Angelique?"

  "I don't know. I wasn't there!" hisses Clarissa through teeth I know to be clenched in a snarl. "She was bought for me, not by me."

  "Ah. So that makes it all right, then."

  "Shut up, you."

  "Be quiet, both of you," warns wise Dolley, trying to keep order among the so-called officers. She's right, of course. I shouldn't have said that.

  "But I don't want to be sold to anyone!" This is a wail from Elspeth, next to me.

  "I'm sure that many who sailed in the opposite direction had exactly the same wish, dear," I say, patting her shoulder.

  "But they are being so cruel to us! So cruel!"

  I think for a bit before replying.

  "You know, I have sailed with seamen who had signed on to slavers before and they described to me the horrors of those voyages—how over five hundred men, women, and children would be packed into a hold like this, the men held by these neck chains here behind us, stretched out fourteen inches apart so they could not even turn over, packed together on all these shelves, on every inch of space. If a person on the upper shelf was sick, then his sickness would rain down on the ones below. If there's dysentery, then that goes down, too. Sometimes as many as half of them would die on the way over. Other times, if they were spotted by a British patrol, in order to avoid getting seized as a slaver, they threw everyone overboard to drown. Men, women, and children."

  I pause to let them think on this, then I go on. "Is it any wonder that when women were sometimes allowed on deck for an airing, they would throw their babies overboard and jump in after them, to drown rather than remain with these incomprehensibly cruel fiends who subjected them to such horror? Remember, these people were taken from their villages in the interior of Africa. Since they didn't speak any of the languages spoken in the slave pens on the coast, they had no idea what was going to happen to them, or where these monsters with their big strange boat were taking them. At least we know what they plan for us. Us being treated badly? Nay, my sisters, we are being treated like queens compared to that!"

  Another long silence. There is the sound of weeping again. Perhaps I shouldn't have...

  "Jacky." I recognize Dolley's voice again. "You must know that we've all read Amy's book about your early life. Will you tell us about what happened to you after you left the school the night it burned? Amy said she had received a letter, soon after that, saying you had signed on to a whaler. It sounds wondrously exciting. Will you tell us about it?"

  Good Dolley, she's always right there when she's needed to be, to soothe tempers, to calm fears, or, in this case, to change the subject.

  "Sure, I will," I say, and I'm about to give them a quick account of my doings since I left the Lawson Peabody the first time, when I reconsider. Why not stretch it out over several days, maybe even a week? I am a natural show-off, after all, and these evenings are long, and it might cheer them. I decide to do it and then lift my voice:

  " Ishmael!' I called out as I skipped down the gangplank of the Pequod, my seabag on my shoulder. 'Good sailing to you!'"

  "'And to thee, Jacky...'"

  In a short while, I've crawled off the Balcony and felt my way to the center of the Stage, and I continue with the story, complete with embellishments and gestures, to my invisible audience listening in the dark.

  "'Thee are sure thee will not marry me?'"

  ***

  Later, much later, after I had finished my story
for the night and all about me breathed deep and regular in sleep, I again leave my kip and go down to the Stage. I feel my way along the wall till my hands touch the bars of the doorway, the doorway behind which sleeps the snoring Dummy.

  "Hughie!" I hiss. "Wake up!"

  He snorts in his sleep and then awakens. "Huh? What you want? You leave me be now, gonna tell Mister..."

  "No, no, Hughie, don't tell Mister. Just listen..." I say urgently. I don't want him flying off for Sin-Kay. "It's me, Hughie, it's me, Little Mary from Rooster Charlie's gang. Don't you remember?" Come on, Hughie, remember, please remember...

  It is not so much of a coincidence that Hugh the Grand should end up here. Taken by a press gang, as the girl Joannie said he was, he would surely have proved too stupid to be a seaman on a warship, or even a merchantman, and would naturally have drifted to a slaver, which'd take just about anyone who lacks a conscience. Not that Hughie lacks one; it's just that he doesn't know, he being simple and all. Of course, I recognized him the instant I laid eyes on him, and rejoiced. There's lots that girls can do, but there's some things they just can't, and I know that—like have the strength to lower a lifeboat into the water when it has to go down.

  "We was mates, Hughie, you and me," I say, hoping that slipping back into my old way of talking would give his memory a jog. I sense him in there shaking his great big head in confusion. "Remember how we all lived under Black-friars Bridge, you and me and Polly and Nan and Judy and Charlie? How I used to ride on your shoulders and I'd read the newspapers posted on the printers' walls to see if we could get a penny? Remember how—"

  "Charlie ... loved Charlie. Charlie went away."

  Hallelujah!

  "We all loved Charlie, Hughie, we did"

  "Little Mary?" he says, and seems to be wondering at the notion. "Little Mary went away, too. Toby come"

  "That's right, Hughie, and now I've come back and we can be mates again."

  "Was happy then ... Mary."