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

by L. A. Meyer

  "Aye, Hughie, we was a good bunch, but we got some good ones here, and we can have a new gang and you can be in it."

  "I can be in the gang?"

  "Sure you can, Hughie, but just one thing," I say, and reach in through the bars and find his hand. "Do you know how to keep a secret, Hughie? Like when you don't tell about somethin'?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Well, you can't tell anyone that you know me and that you're in our gang now. Don't tell Nettles. Don't tell Mister."

  "Hate Sammy. Hate Mister. Won't tell."

  "Good, Hughie, that's real good." I give his hand a squeeze. "I've got to go back to my kip now. I'll see you in the morning and I'll wink at you so's you'll know which one I am, 'cause I've changed some since last we was mates. And remember, mum's the word, Hughie, all right?"

  "Mum."

  "Good night, Hughie. You was always just the best boy."

  Chapter 22

  "Here he comes," reports Wilhelmina Johnson up on starboard-aft lookout. "Got Nettles with him." Earlier, when the flaps went up, I had gone to the hatchway and winked broadly at Hughie. He blushed and grinned his big foolish grin, and I put my finger to my lips and whispered, "Shush now," and he nodded and kept on smiling, his big head lolling back and forth in joy.

  Again there's the sound of the upper locks being opened, and Sin-Kay comes down the stairs. Hughie, his smile now gone, presses himself against the bulkhead to let his master pass. The bottom door is opened, and Sin-Kay enters the Hold, with Nettles following, being his usual awful, smirking self. With them also is Chubbuck, the Bo'sun, who takes a position next to the doorway and leans against the bulkhead in a posture of complete brutish indifference to the proceedings. I take note that his club swings on a lanyard by his side and that he wears a cutlass in a leather sheath on his other side.

  "Good morning, ladies," says our jailer, "I trust you slept well? No? Ah, well, soon you'll be reclining on silk sheets, eating pomegranates, and awaiting the arrival of your Sheik of Araby. Some of you, anyway." It appears our Mister Sin-Kay is in a fine mood.

  He opens his notebook and calls out, "Rebecca Adams."

  "Here."

  "Good. Go stand over there, girl." He gestures to the port side. "We are going to line you up alphabetically. Ruth Alden."

  Ruth goes over to stand next to Rebecca.

  "Sally Anderson, then Hermione Applegate. Once we get all this done, I want you to remember the person to the right and left of you so you can re-form this line every time I enter. You will do that without being told. Is that clear?"

  He waits for some reply, but he gets none. "All right ... Bailey ... Baxter ... Byrnes..."

  And so on till we're all lined up proper, to his way of thinking at least. I have Katy Deere on my right and Dolley Frazier on my left.

  "Very well, we will now have inspection," says Sin-Kay, and he goes to the end of the line and confronts Julia Winslow, a delicate, cheerful girl, who was given much to ribbons and bows and frilly things back at the school. She is not cheerful now, as Sin-Kay says to her, "Open your mouth."

  "Wha-what?" asks Julia, taken aback by the order.

  "Show me your teeth, girl. The condition of your teeth affects your salability and hence your price, so open your mouth such that I might look."

  "I ... I won't," quavers Julia, putting her hands to her mouth.

  "Bo'sun Chubbuck, if you would be so good," says Sin-Kay, taking one step backward so that the brutish Chubbuck can come up, take the terrified girl by the neck with one hairy hand, and with the thumb and forefinger of the other, push in on her back teeth, forcing her mouth open.

  "Very good, Bo'sun Chubbuck. You may step back now."

  Chubbuck releases Julia and moves back to his place by the door and resumes his former stance. Shaking, Julia stands with her mouth open.

  Sin-Kay peers in her mouth and then says, "Bare your front teeth," and Julia pulls back her lips in a grim parody of a smile. Tears of shame trickle from her eyes.

  "Good," he says. He makes a note in his book and then moves on to Frances Wallace. He has no more trouble with the rest of the girls obeying his order. Better to do it than to be touched by the awful Chubbuck.

  When he reaches Clarissa, four girls down from me, her baring of teeth is not some gruesome parody of a smile, oh no. It is the snarl of an animal that would like nothing better than to lunge forward and rip out Sin-Kay's throat.

  A minute later he is up to me. "Ah, we meet again our little Miss English Smart-mouth from yesterday. I trust you passed a pleasant night, Your Highness?"

  "Another delightful evening at the elegant Hotel Bloodhound, to be sure. The staff has been ever so attentive to our needs," I say, without expression. I case my eyes and look over his shoulder.

  That gets a short bark of a laugh from our innkeeper. He then orders me to open up and I do it without question. I grimace, he checks my tusks, and then moves on down the line.

  In a while he is done with this exercise in humiliation and orders Hughie and Nettles to start the feeding, then prepares to leave.

  "Your pardon, Sir," pipes up Judy Leavitt, as she has been coached. "Some of us girls had needle and thread in our purses that were taken from us. Combs, too. If we could have them—"

  "The answer is no," says Sin-Kay, simply.

  We had picked three girls to do the asking today, so Clarissa, Dolley, and I don't get to be seen as the leaders. If there's any trouble—and I do plan for there to be much trouble—all they would need to do is merely separate us from the others, and all would be lost. Frances Wallace is next.

  "I beg your pardon, Sir," she says, "but why cannot the shutters stay up till dark? We know there are a good four hours of daylight after you have them put down. It makes the night so very long and our spirits are suffering."

  "Again, no."

  Then Sally Anderson, who is near the head of the line, asks, "If ... if we could have some water with which to wash ourselves ... even salt water would help. Please, Sir, we are ladies, you know."

  "The answer to that is, also, no," says Sin-Kay. His face is without expression, his voice level, but I think he is becoming impatient.

  "Please, Sir, the salt water is nothing to you," says Martha, who stands next to Clarissa. "There's a whole ocean of it out there—"

  "I told you the answer is no!" shouts Sin-Kay, advancing on Martha. She shrinks back in fear.

  "Don't worry, Martha, honey. He won't touch you," purrs Clarissa. "You saw how he had to get that ape Upchuck, or whatevah the hell his name is, to assault dear Julia that way and pry open her poor jaws. And you know why?"

  She pauses, then charges on. "'Cause for all his fancy clothes and fine mannahs, he is nothin' but a low-down dirty field nigra who don't know his place, and he knows that if he so much as lays a finger on you, his so-called ass-so-ci-ates would get a rope and string his black ass up faster than you can sing 'nigra in the woodpile, do-si-do,' business partners or not!"

  Sin-Kay nods and smiles, as if savoring a private joke, turns, then goes over to stand before Clarissa. He puts his hands behind his back and regards her.

  "Did you know, Miss Howe," he finally says, "that I made arrangements for my ass-so-ci-ate Colonel Bartholomew Simon to purchase your girl Angelique for me? No? But then, how could you know, for you have been my honored guest here at the Hotel Bloodhound, as your Lady Miss Faber would have it. Yes, it is true, though. Your father's household would have no further use for her, since you are considered dead and gone, and Colonel Simon's offer will have been most generous. The shy, demure, and most beautiful Angelique will definitely be waiting for me upon my return"

  I've noticed that when Clarissa Worthington Howe is enraged beyond words, her cheeks go even more pale than they usually are and a red spot appears on each cheek. I know that, because that rage has so often been directed at me. The red spots appear now, and though shaking with rage, she says nothing.

  "You see, Miss Howe, the fact is, I have no desire for gray women,
women such as yourselves," he goes on, giving us all a significant look. "But I will find Miss Angelique most enjoyable, you can count on that."

  ***

  "Officers' Call. Lookouts up and report," I say after Sin-Kay disappears up the hatchway. Helen, Martha, Frances, and Sylvie leave the line and dash up to their posts. As Dolley and Clarissa and I come together, the calls of "All clear" come from above.

  Clarissa is seething with fury, and out of her mouth comes a stream of curses that would even put some of mine to shame. "You give me that knife you got and I'll take care of that black bastard!" she hisses at me. "I'll cut him so bad that—"

  "Shush, you! That would gain us nothing, Clarissa, and you know it!" I hiss back at her. "Hush, now! You calm down or you'll ruin everything." Her chest gradually stops heaving, but her eyes still blaze with pure fury.

  "There. That's better," I say, soothingly. "And don't worry. We're going to do something about this and we're going to start right now."

  "But what can we do?" asks Dolley. "We have no control over anything."

  "We have control over something that is very valuable to him, and that something is our very bodies themselves. He looks on us as cargo? All right, the cargo will refuse to eat. Our bodies will thus become less valuable, become, in fact, skin and bones. He meets our demands or we starve ourselves to death, simple as that. What do you say?" I wait for their answer.

  "I'll do anything to get at that rotten son of a bitch!" Clarissa spits out, clenching and unclenching her fists.

  Hughie and Nettles are bringing down the food and water, and the girls are beginning to line up. "Wait a minute, girls," Dolley calls out to them, "don't take anything just yet." She turns back to me. "Do you think they can do it? The girls, I mean."

  "Well, it will be a good test of their mettle, whether or not they can hold together in something like this. We have to know that before we start on the escape plan. They've had almost two days now to settle in. I say we try it."

  "All right, if they'll all agree to go along with it."

  "Right, we can't have any holdouts. I'll speak to them now."

  I turn to the girls, who, though stunned and astounded by Sin-Kay's heartless responses, are naturally curious as to what we three have been talking about.

  I don't speak out right away. Instead I take Wilhelmina by the arm and say to her in a low voice, "Willa, have the girls crowd about the doorway and then have them turn and face me. That way Nettles won't be able to see who's talking." She nods and then sets about quietly herding the girls to the door.

  When the view from the doorway is blocked and the girls are looking at me expectantly, I put on my American accent voice and say, "Listen to me, my sisters. You are standing there confused, wondering why that man treats us so cruelly, so heartlessly, for no reason at all. Well, the truth of it is that he does have a reason: By denying us even the most basic things of life, he means to break us down, girl by girl, till we have not a shred of self-respect left. He seeks to mold us, to make us pliable, to bend us to his will, so that when we mount the auction block, we will be as docile as a herd of cows. Are we going to let him do that? Oh, my sisters, are we going to let him break us?"

  There is a low mutter of nos and no-we-won'ts that is truly not very bold, but it's a start.

  "Good for you. Now, we have come up with a plan of action and here it is: First we present Sin-Kay with a list of demands. They will be for more water, better food, and shutters up till dark. Then we refuse to eat until those demands are met. It is as simple as that. We will be messing with the one thing about us he holds dear: our healthy bodies and the price they will bring. It is the only thing we can do right now, as our bodies are the only thing we have power over. What do you think?"

  There is an instant buzz of chatter. Let's do it and the food is awful anyway and I'm for it. I let them talk on for a bit and then I call the vote.

  "We must have you all with us on this, every one of you. If you are not wholeheartedly with us on this, say so now, for we must have everyone committed to this or the plan will not work." No one says anything. "All right, all those who say we go on a hunger strike, raise your right hand."

  The right hands of about half the girls shoot into the air. A few seconds later some more, who are somewhat less enthusiastic, raise their hands. Then the rest haltingly come up.

  "All right. Lower your hands. Now, all opposed." There is silence and no hand goes up.

  "We are officially on strike. Let's have a cheer, now; sisterhood forever!"

  Sisterhood forever! comes back the roar from the girls of the Lawson Peabody. Hooray! Hooray!

  When they quiet down some, I call out in a voice I make lower than my usual, so as to disguise it: "Nettles! Go tell Sin-Kay that we are all on a hunger strike and that we'll eat no more of your slop till we get more water, better food, and have the flaps open till dark!"

  "You all are really gonna git it and I'm gonna git to watch. Oh boy, oh boy! Hee-hee." Nettles exits, giggling, to go to Sin-Kay with his news.

  When he is gone, I say urgently, "Quick! We got to get our chant down so Sin-Kay can't single out any one of us as a leader. Now, when you hear me clap my hands three times, we'll all chant 'More water, better food, flaps open till dark!' Each time you hear the three claps, you'll repeat the refrain five times—count them off on the fingers of one hand—and then stop. That way we'll start together and stop together. Let's try it now. I think you'll find that it's got a nice bit of a rhythm to it. Here we go..." Clap-clap-clap.

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark!

  Good. I think they've got it. Nice clean start. I nod my approval.

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark...

  ...and so on till the five refrains are done and end neatly and together.

  "Well done, ladies! For today, we will chant that any time Sin-Kay tries to talk to us. If I'm being watched by him, either Dolley or Clarissa will do the claps. Tomorrow, we'll up the ante. As for now, here's a bit of a treat. I have here a comb."

  I reach up my sleeve and pull out my large tortoiseshell comb, one that Higgins had picked up for me in London, and I hold it up. There is a general gasp. A comb! We can comb our hair! Oh, joy! Ah, the small comforts and pleasures of life.

  "I had it stuck up my sleeve when we were taken," I say, lying. Actually, I had it in my seabag, but I don't want them all to know about that yet. Let's first see how they all do in this strike. "Use it to comb each other's hair. Keep an eye out for lice—we'll have to keep close watch on that—put your hair up in pigtails, braids, or buns, something that will stay neat, for it will be a long time till you will be able to wash it."

  I hand the comb to Cloris. "Don't let that slimy Nettles see it—he'd peach on us for sure and we'd lose it. Now let's get our water and get on with our day."

  Cups are retrieved from kips and held through the bars for Hughie to fill. When I step up with mine, I see him sitting there, looking befuddled. I reach in and give his curly head a pet. "No food for us today, Hughie, luv. You can take the pot back out after everyone's got their water."

  He looks even more confused, but he nods and ladles out the water.

  I go up on the Balcony and sit next to Katy, who is on watch. "Notice anything, Katy?"

  "Nope, nobody around." Katy keeps mostly to herself, sitting alone up in the Balcony, whether on watch or not. Annie and Sylvie have each other, and they've gotten tight with Rose. All three also have started watching out for Rebecca now that I'm so busy all the time.

  "I mean, notice anything in general, like."

  She ponders this a bit, then says, "Only men on this ship who've got weapons is the Captain, the Mate, and Chub-buck. That black man might have sumthin' in the way of pistols under his coat. Don't know. Prolly does. Ain't got no friends, though ... never see no one talkin' to him when he comes out on deck."

  She pauses and thinks some more. "T
hat crazy boy Nettles goes in the Captain's room anytime the man calls for him. When that happens, the men out on deck wiggle their hands and hips and snicker, but they don't do that if the Mate or Chubbuck is there to see 'em do it."

  Another pause, but I am patient.

  "At night, I think the boy goes in the Captain's room and don't come out till mornin'. Course, can't see at night, but I can in the mornin'."

  I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze. "You're a good soldier, Katy, and we..."

  "He's a-comin' back," says Katy. She is looking out and nodding. I don't have to turn to look to know who she means.

  I hop back down to the Stage and join the crowd of girls just as the lock rattles and Sin-Kay comes back into the Hold. He looks amused.

  "So. A hunger strike, is it? Well, I can tell you this..."

  I put my hands behind me and clap palm of left hand against back of right hand three times and we all burst out:

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark!

  We don't pause after the first refrain but swing right into the next.

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark!

  Sin-Kay puts his hands behind his back and leaves them clasped there as he wanders about our midst, watching our mouths move with the chant.

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark!

  Sin-Kay stops in front of our nervous Abigail Pierce, and he glares down at her. She stops chanting and trembles before him, but we all keep chanting all the louder and Abby starts chanting again when he moves on. Good girl.

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark!

  Knowing it's the last refrain, we raise our voices loud and really lay into it.

  More water!

  Better food!

  Flaps open till dark!

  Then we snap our jaws shut, ending perfectly together.

  Sin-Kay nods in appreciation. "Very well, conduct your hunger strike. It will avail you nothing, you will see. Dinner will be served at the usual time," he says, as he turns and goes to the door where the leering Nettles waits. "It's a pity, though. Tonight you were going to be given a nice hot biscuit with your burgoo." He lets that sink in and then adds, "I want you to think about that biscuit. Good day to—"