Under the Jolly Roger

by L. A. Meyer

  Here come the tears again.

  "Do you, Jacky Faber, promise never to doubt me again, no matter what?" he says, intently serious, his dark eyes looking deep into mine. He has the ring poised over my shaking finger.

  I can only nod. He slides it on, as tears slide down my face.

  "Thank you, Jacky. You have made me very happy, once again, knowing that I'm back in your heart ... I ... I..." He gropes for words.

  I turn to the Marine who has been watching us. "Private Rodgers, if you'll give us a moment please." I give him my most hopeful and beseeching look, one embellished with teardrops hanging from my eyelashes.

  He looks doubtful, knowing full well what his orders are, but it's the tears that get him, I know. He says, "Mr. Fletcher, do you swear you won't pass her anything or do anything wrong?"

  "Yes," says Jaimy.

  "All right. The count of twenty-five." And he turns his back on us.

  I put my face up against the bars and close my eyes.

  "Come kiss me, Jaimy, if you love me."

  He does, oh yes, he does.

  Chapter 49

  I am not dead yet, nor am I going to place my fate entirely in the hands of Jaimy's lawyers, nor will I throw myself completely on the mercy of his family's influence. I snort to myself on thinking of the Fletcher family as regards the fate of one Jacky Faber—his father would probably love to see me swing for stealing all that wine from him, and Jaimy's mother? Oh yes, I've no doubt Mother Fletcher, if anything, is helping to build my gallows right now. I can see her with hammer in hand, nails held in her teeth, pounding in the very boards herself.

  I continue to study the key and I try to think of ways to duplicate it, since it's plain that I will never be able to get at the key itself. The trouble is, I need metal and metal is what I do not have. My Marines bring me my trays of food but it is the now very careful and respectful Weasel who picks up the dirty dishes afterward, and he always counts the silverware when he does so. I have asked my Marines to let me play my pennywhistle that's in my seabag, and they do it, but they always make sure it goes back in the bag when their watch changes. I don't think I could twist the tin whistle into the proper shape, anyway.

  My plan, of course, is to fabricate a key, then ask the Marine to step outside while I use the pot, open the cell door, strip to my drawers, and bolt out the open door of the hold and over the side and swim for the French coast, just like I did that first day on the Wolverine. If it's too far away and I die in the attempt, well, so be it. I'd rather breathe my last and sink forgotten to the bottom of the sea, than be taken back to London and put up on the scaffold to be hanged for the joy of the mob.

  I know that's where we are, right off the coast of France, and this time I think I'd make it, 'cause I don't think my Werewolves would pursue me very hotly—'cause I think they still love me some.

  The only problem is the damned key.

  Today, when Jaimy comes back down to see me after his watch, I am able to control my emotions a bit more than I did yesterday and I take in the news he has to tell.

  "Your men from the Emerald are being transferred to other ships in the Fleet. Captain Trumbull thinks their love for you might cause trouble. He knows that you've been in command of both these crews and it would not take much of a spark to put you back in command of all of them again."

  "Ah."

  "He has said that you might bid them farewell as they go."

  I notice now that Jaimy has a small coil of light line in his hand. "That is very kind of him," I say. "Will he put me on my knees again? If so, I won't do it."

  "No. He says only that you cannot wear the uniform you were captured in."

  I smile. "He can't bring himself to say my 'lieutenant's uniform,' can he?"

  "No, but that is the only condition, other than that your hands must be bound. He has heard the account of you jumping overboard and swimming for shore that time."

  I nod and stick out my crossed wrists and wait for the rope that will bind them.

  "Sheehan, good sailing to you. You, too, O'Hara, Doyle. Good-bye, John Reilly, good-bye, Farrell, Denny, Sean..."

  I stand by the railing of the Wolverine as the crew of the Emerald files by me and, one by one, goes over the side into the waiting boats below.

  "God be with you, Ryan, Kinsella ... not so glum there, Brian, cheer up. Good-bye, Kelly, Lynch..." Make things light now, heads up, don't let them see you cry.

  Then up steps Arthur McBride.

  "Now here's one Arthur McBride, off to serve his King. Now ain't that just a sight?" I say, in my bantering way. "Now who do you think got the best of things, you or your friend Ian McConnaughey?"

  That gets the old familiar smile flashing again. "Aye, the sod," says Arthur McBride. "Him all snugged up with Mairead and me about to enter the hairy embrace o' some cruel monster of a Bo'sun's Mate on a British Man-o'-War. Life sometimes just ain't fair, is it, Jacky?"

  "It is not, but somehow I think you will fare well. Good-bye, Arthur. You always brought me cheer."

  He goes and then Padraic stands before me and I lean forward and kiss him on his cheek. "Fair winds, Padraic Delaney, you were the sweetest of all the lads and you were ever so kind to me. I will always think fondly on thee."

  He gulps and nods and goes over. Liam is the last one. He stands in front of me looking very big and very glum.

  "Didn't we ramble, then, Liam, didn't we ramble?" I say, stepping up close to him.

  This brings a bit of a rueful smile to his face. "Aye, that we did, Jacky, that we did."

  I figure I can let the tears come now and it doesn't matter what I figure 'cause they're gonna come anyway, and down they do trickle. "Put your arms around me, Father, please."

  He takes me in his big embrace and I put my face up next to his and I whisper in his ear, "Liam, tell the others not to despair of me—I have a plan and I'm not dead yet!"

  I hear a harrumph behind me and I know it is Captain Trumbull, so I stand back from Liam and say, "Fare thee well, Liam Delaney."

  "Fare thee well, Daughter," says Liam, and he goes over the side.

  Captain Trumbull has indeed taken Higgins as his steward and for that I am very glad. I don't think he would have fared very well as a common sailor.

  That night Jaimy and I sat and talked long into the night and held hands through the bars. I had the opportunity to explain exactly why I did what I did when I did it and I think he understands and is easier in his mind concerning my impetuous nature. I mean, he's got to see that I had reasons. And when it was time for him to go, the Corporal gave us another count of twenty-five.

  I think on that fondly and then snap my mind back to the present. We leave in two days for England and trial for me, so that doesn't give me much time. How can I make a key? Come on, girl, your life depends upon it! Think!

  Chapter 50

  I see a way to the key opening up on the afternoon of my third day of captivity. We are due to leave tomorrow for England and doom, and I am beginning to despair, when George Piggott, of all people, comes down into the hold and stands stiffly in front of the cell.

  "Georgie! How good to see you," I exclaim, reaching through the bars to take his hands in mine. "I so wanted to thank you for being my bold defender that day I was taken!" I haul him to me and plant a between-the-bars kiss on his forehead.

  Georgie blushes and says, "With the Captain's compliments, will you join him and his officers for dinner this evening in his cabin?"

  Come on, think! This might be your chance! Your last chance. Ah! I think I see a way...

  "You may tell the Captain, Midshipman Piggott, that I would be delighted, but I will not come unless I am given the chance to bathe and clothe myself in private and not in plain view as I am here!" I say. "You tell him that, and then come back and tell me what he says."

  Georgie nods and goes off on his errand. I make myself ready. I have a scrap of ribbon and I tie my hair up on top of my head. Then I wait.

  Presently, Georg
ie comes back and says, "Captain Trumbull's compliments and it will be all right for you to—"

  "You heard the Captain's order, Private!" I cry, cutting Georgie off before he can say that the Captain had said it would be all right for me to hose myself off in some scupper or somesuch. "Now release me and let me get my things out of my bag and take me to ... yes, to one of the officers' berths. There will be a washstand and will be private enough for what I need to do." The Marine stands astounded. "Female things, you know," say I, blushing and fluttering my lashes. He blushes even more deeply and takes the key and opens the cell.

  The officers' quarters are in the next hold, and I stride out and lead the way, with Georgie and a sputtering Private Rodgers following.

  The doors are open to the berths and I look in one and know it is Jaimy's room for I see up there on the wall, next to the bunk, the miniature that I had painted of myself and had sent to Jaimy by way of Davy. Aw, how sweet...

  "This will do fine," I say, as I sweep in and close the door behind me. I slosh some water from the pitcher into the basin and run my hand through it to make enough noise for them to hear. Then I start going through Jaimy's chest of drawers. Shirts. Drawers. Letter-writing stuff. Damn! Nothing yet! Handkerchiefs ... Stockings ... and Hah!

  There, wrapped in a cloth, is his old mess kit from the Dolphin! Jaimy, the nob, had a fork when all the rest of us had just knives and spoons. Just the thing.

  I take the fork and bend it around on itself and stick it up in my hair. I use the ribbon to bring my hair around it to hide it. There. I look in Jaimy's little shaving mirror and it looks fine. It looks just like an ordinary bun.

  That done, I strip down and begin to actually wash myself. I quickly finish and dry off with a handy towel and while I'm doing it, I look over at the bed. Hmmm...

  There is still a very good chance I'm not going to survive this latest trouble I'm in. I think hard for a moment and then I open the door and stick my head out and say, "Mr. Piggott. Go get Mr. Fletcher. I'm having trouble with the wash basin." Then I close the door.

  I pull back the cover on the bed and wait. He's not getting away this time, by God.

  I do not have to wait long. There's a tap on the door and "Jacky?"

  I reach out an arm and pull Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher in by his collar and close the door and throw the latch. Jaimy looks at me and I throw my arms around him and we both fall toward the bed and then we're in it and Jaimy, I'm so glad to be back in your arms again, I'm your lass and always was and always will be and yes, Jaimy, please hold me and touch me and...

  ...there's that old knock again. Wham! Wham! Wham! Just like before.

  Damn!

  "Miss!" comes the call from outside the door. "I know what you're going to do in there and I'm going to be in so much trouble if you do what you're planning to do. I'll be demoted and flogged and..." I think Private Rodgers is out there actually crying and pleading on his knees.

  "All right, Jeffrey," I say with a sigh. I look into Jaimy's gray eyes right in front of mine. "Lift me up, Jaimy."

  He gets up and gives me his hand and I get up.

  "Fill your eyes with me, Jaimy, and then kiss me, and kiss me hard and long, for it may be the last time."

  He does, oh yes, he does.

  "Now go, Jaimy."

  And with one last feverish kiss, he does.

  After I calm myself, I put on my old faithful blue dress, the one I made back on the Dolphin, which I had my Marine pull from my seabag. Then I go back to my cell and wait to be called. When Private Rodgers, relieved to have me safely back in my cell, has his back turned, I slip the fork under the thin mattress on my bench.

  I put my ring back in my ear and squeeze it shut.

  Both Corporal Martin and Private Rodgers come to collect me to take me to the Captain's cabin for dinner. Along the short way on deck I am able to wave to some of my old friends. I see Drake and Harkness and I hold Jared's gaze longer than I do the others. Then I am in the cabin.

  All rise and I am taken and seated to the right of Captain Trumbull, with Jaimy to my left. There's Tom and Ned looking all gallant in their uniforms and looking to have each grown a foot since last I saw them. My bold Knights Errant I call them again, and they flush and look down, but I know they are pleased. And Georgie is there, too, all pink and stuffed into his uniform, which is growing too small for him, as well.

  Lieutenant Beasley, the other officer Captain Trumbull brought to the Wolverine with him, has the watch, so it's all old friends here. Except for the Captain, of course, and he seems to be mellowing a bit, too.

  "A glass of wine with you, Miss," he says. Higgins comes over and fills my glass. I give him a smile and a pat on his arm. He nods, in his solemn way, and goes on to pour for the others.

  "Thank you, Sir," says I with a friendly, open Look upon my face. Sort of a half-Look, appropriate for such an occasion. "It was very kind of you to invite me, considering my ... status as your prisoner."

  "Well, there's never an excuse for bad manners, is there?" he replies, knocking back his wine. I take a sip of mine and it is very good. I look up at Higgins and wink. He has plainly been into the stores of Tonda-lay-o, Former Queen of the Ocean Sea. That's fine, for they are certainly doing me no good now, and if it's helped Higgins in his new post, all the better.

  "I assume all these fine things you had in stores were plunder from the ships you took?"

  "No, Sir, these were all bought properlike. It is now you who have done the plundering." I put a little twist on that.

  "Well, I'll have it either way," says Captain Trumbull, "with my compliments and my thanks." He says this with a slight bow in my direction.

  Well should you be thankful, Captain, I'm thinkin, a fine feast, fine drink, excellent service, and seated next to you, a neat 250 pounds sterling. On the hoof, as it were. Would that the old Cheapside gang could know what I am now worth—more than double my weight in silver. I've come a long way, it seems.

  I look about this familiar space and let myself drift back. How well I remember when, not so long ago, this cabin was mine and I would sit at this very table with my booted feet upon it, leaning back in my chair and gloating with my officers over our latest prize. Now I sit here a captive and I see that my Jolly Roger has been festooned across a trunk over there, as a trophy, I suppose. As I, too, am now a trophy, a prize. Ah, well.

  "I have read the book of your experiences on the Dolphin, Miss Faber. Mr. Piggott there lent it to me," the Captain goes on. "Very interesting. It is too bad your adventuring must come to an end." He sounds genuinely a little bit sorry.

  "Let us put thoughts of the future aside, Sir," I say. "Let us delight in the present, in good food, good wine, and good friends. All about me here are my friends, and, as you have been so gracious as to invite me to your table, permit me to count you also as my friend, as well as my captor."

  I lift my glass to him. Sparkle, Jacky, sparkle.

  "Well said, Miss," says the Captain and hear, hear! is heard all around. "I did not make the Fletcher connection when first I read the book," he says, when all are quiet again. He pointedly looks at Jaimy and me, who both have our hands under the table, those same hands being clasped together in my lap. "But now I do."

  We sheepishly bring our hands back onto the tabletop.

  Higgins brings in the mighty roast beef to great acclaim and we fall to and all are stuffing themselves to the point of stupefaction when there is a knock on the door and Mr. Beasley comes in and bows to the Captain.

  "Your pardon, Sir, but a signal from the Flag. Lord Nelson has brought the combined French and Spanish fleets to bay off the Spanish coast. All British warships are to make speed for Cape Trafalgar to join the fight."

  Chapter 51

  The dinner was over right quick after that. The Captain got up and roared out orders to bring the ship about and head her south and I was sent back into my cage, protesting all the way. Please, Captain, don't put me down there for the fight! I don't wan
na drown like a rat in a trap! Let me help! All to no avail. Back down in the cell I went.

  The ship is in high uproar, clearing decks for action, bending on all possible sail to get to Trafalgar as quickly as possible—Not a moment to lose! is the cry. Men are sanding cannonballs to make them rounder, the Marines are putting extra rifles and powder horns into the maintop and foretop, where they will stand during the battle, shooting down onto the decks of the enemy. Men are making wills and signing them and making their peace with whatever God they worship.

  Me, I'm down in my cage, twisting a fork. My Marines are distracted with the excitement of the coming fight, but they still keep an eye on me and I can't talk any sense into 'em. Please, Jeffrey, if it comes to a fight, say you'll let me out, say you will! This gets me I'm sorry, Miss, but you'll be safer down here. Right, and if the ship goes down, I go down, too. Please, please, I'd rather die out in the open air!

  I find out from Jaimy during the few times I get to talk to him that it's gonna take us a good three or four days to get there, sailing in convoy with the rest of our squadron, Trafalgar being down by the Strait of Gibraltar, but we're making good time, about eight knots average, so maybe we'll be there in time for the fight. Great.

  We're out in the open ocean now, in the Bay of Biscay, so any notion of me jumping overboard and swimming for freedom is out. I decide to shut up, escape notice, and work on making a key.

  I work the same scam. I tell the Marine I've got to use the pot and when he goes out, I try my fork. I had studied the key hanging there and twisted down the tine of the fork in imitation of the tab at the end of the key.