Curse of the Blue Tattoo: Being an Account of the Misadventures of Jacky Faber, Midshipman and Fine Lady (14 page)

The air is cool and it makes me feel better. Mistress is gonna whip me up one side and down the other, but that's nothin' compared to a public beating, so I am thankful and will take what comes. I resolve to be good in the future.

I am grateful, too, to see that Mr. Pickering has joined the little parade in my honor up Court Street on our way to Beacon Hill. He comes up and walks alongside me, his slight smile still in place. There are some common and low types who jeer at me as we pass and his presence makes me feel safe and gives me comfort.

"I shall go with you to the school and explain to your headmistress what has happened and maybe it will go easier for you."

I thank him and say that I don't have any money right now but I will have someday and I will pay him for his services then 'cause he did a really good job and got me out of a beating.

He nods and chuckles and asks, "Was that what you sailors would call 'The Full Waif Broadside' that you pulled back there in Court? It was quite a performance."

'"Twarn't no performance," I sniffs. "I was scared half out of my wits."

"Well, whatever it was, it worked. Judge Thwackham doesn't usually let people off with a suspended sentence."

We trudge along in silence for a bit while I thinks things over.

"Mr. Pickering," I finally say, "would it be too much to ask if you would look into how much money my mates have stashed for me at this school? In case I should want to pull up and leave, that is. Then I could pay you what I owe you."

Mr. Pickering considers this for a while and then says, "I will do that, Miss Faber, but I must advise you, as a friend, that Mistress Pimm's school enjoys a very fine reputation and you would be well advised to stay there for your full term. I suspect that you do not know that you are going to school with the future wives of judges, senators, governors, and even, it is not too far-fetched to suppose, presidents. And as your attorney, I must point out that it might be very difficult to pry that money out of Mistress Pimm's fist, you being both a minor and a girl." He pauses to gaze smilingly upon the black-wooled sheep we are passing. "Still, I will inquire into it for you."

"Thank you, Sir," I say, and then my stomach gives a lurch as I see we are approaching the school. As we draw closer, I can make out faces pressed against all the windows.
Oh, Lord.

"Perhaps," says Mr. Pickering to Constable Wiggins, as we begin to mount the stairs, "you could release her here and I could..."

But the constable will have none of it. He fixes Mr. Pickering with a beady eye and says, "I have my orders, Sir, and I will carry them out to the letter." And he drags me up the stairs such that my arms are pulled out before me so that all can see the chains around my wrists.

Wiggins reaches the door and gives it a good pound. I don't want to look up at the faces in the windows, so I look down at the stone doorstep.

Presently, the door opens and Mistress, herself, steps out. "What is this, then?" she asks. My knees turn to jelly.

Constable Wiggins puffs up and says, "This hewe female was awested and conwicted by the High Couwt of the State of Massachusetts, Judge Hiwam Thwackham, pwesiding, of the cwime of Lewd and Lacsiwious Conduct, to wit: singin' and dancin' and distuwbin' the peace of the stweets of Boston and in the bwazen showing of a female limb, beggin' youw pawdon, Ma'am, and I am hereby wemandin' hew into youw custody if youw name be Mistwess Pimm!"

Mistress just stands there lookin' at me.

"Constable, you have done your duty most admirably," I hear Mr. Pickering say, "now if you would just release Miss Faber, I believe your job here is done."

I feel Wiggins mess with the lock and then I feel the chains fall from my wrists. Before he leaves, the constable comes up by my ear and says under his breath, "I will see thee again, giwl, and it will be tied to the stake you will be and the sentence will be cawied out in full because I knows ye for a bad 'un in spite of all this schoolgiwl talk. You can twust me on that, as I am the one what swings the wod!"

He gathers up his chain and heads on down the hill. His words chill me, but not so much as the look on Mistress's face. She drills me with her eyes.

"Disgrace ... to ... my ... school..." is all she says, but it is enough to shake me to my bones.

"Mistress Pimm, I'm afraid there's been a bit of a misunderstanding here," says Mr. Pickering, with a helpful tone in his voice, but I know it ain't gonna wash, and after a moment he realizes it, too, and sort of trails off helplessly. "It is my hope that she is not to be beaten too harshly as she really didn't know..."

Mistress snaps her head around and looks at Mr. Pickering as if he were a particularly vile fish head that had been thrown on the steps and left to molder and stink there. "Thank you, Sir. Good day to you."

Mr. Pickering need not have worried. Mistress does not beat me. No, she does something far, far worse.

I follow Mistress into her office and put my toes on the white line and then flop over on her desk and flip up my skirts and I starts in to wailin', "Mistress, it wasn't like that at all it was like—"

"Be still, please," she says with a coldness in her voice that I don't find reassuring at all, "and stand up."

I hesitate. She's not going to beat me? What...

"Now!" she hisses, and I jerk up straight and stand there quiverin' with my hands to my sides.

Mistress comes around to face me. "Take off the dress," she says, evenly. "Now."

I am confused and scared. "What? I don't underst—"

"By your actions you have brought disgrace upon my school and all the good and worthy people in it. I do not
want the symbol of this school on your back for one more second. You defile it by being in it. Take it off. Now!"

I start to pull my dress up over my head and the tears come. I blubber, "I'm sorry Mistress I'm sorry I'll never do it again I'm sorry I'm sorry—"

"Sorry is not enough, Miss Faber. It does not erase the disgrace."

I hold my dress in my hands and stand clad only in my camisole and drawers and stockings and wait for the next blow.

"You will join the downstairs staff. You shall work for your room and board. The money that was placed with me for your tuition will be put up as a dowry for you until a suitable match can be made. Now follow me."

I feel like I have been slapped hard in the face. I don't move, I can't move, I can only hang my head and let my chin fall to my chest, tears of shame and disgrace falling from my eyes and onto the front of my slip.

Mistress sees this and says, "I am sorry, child, but we both know you don't belong here. It was a mistake. Now, follow me."

We leave her office and every door has faces looking out at me walking down the hall in my undergarments with my school dress clutched to my chest, Mistress leading the way. I think I see Amy's stricken face in one doorway and Clarissa's triumphant face in another. I don't know. I am beyond knowing anything now.

She leads me down the stairs to the kitchen, where Peg is standing at the stove before a steaming cauldron. She turns
as Mistress says, "This is Jacky Faber. She will be joining your staff. Get her fitted out with the appropriate clothing immediately. Acquaint her with her duties."

With that, Mistress turns and leaves.

I stand there in front of Peg and I close my eyes and start sobbing and jerking there in my misery and she says, "Come, girl, it ain't so bad down here, you'll see. We've got a right jolly bunch of girls and it'll be all right, you'll see, you'll see."

She comes to me and puts her arm around my shaking shoulders and I bury my face in her chest and she says, "Hush, now, girl, hush. Hush now, hush."

Later, I'm given clothing and Peg takes me up the stairs and past the classrooms and past the dining hall, where I hear the chatter of the ladies having supper, and then up the stairs and down the hall and past the door to the dormitory and up another flight of stairs to the attic, which is to be my room. Peg tells me that the attic room is kept for when the school has serving girls that come from the outlying farms, but all the serving girls they got now live in town and don't sleep over so it's just me in here now. I have a bed, a chest of drawers, a table, and a chair. A candle in a holder. I see that my sea chest and my seabag have been brought up. Peg leaves me to settle in.

I hang up my new serving clothes and then I kneel on the floor next to my sea chest and fold up my school dress and I place it carefully inside so that the folds lie just right. I was so proud of that dress.

After a while, I can hear the ladies down below at their
prayers, just before lights-out. Two nights ago I was there with them and now I'm not.

I warn't never meant to be a lady, I know that now. I got streaks of wildness in me that trip me up every time, and just like streaks in clothes, there's some dirt that just won't wash out.

James Emerson Fletcher
Number 9 Brattle Lane
London, England
September 28, 1803

Miss Jacky Faber
The Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls
Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts, United States

My Dearest Jacky,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you are benefiting from your studies at your new school. Although I miss you terribly, I must say that I find comfort in knowing that you are now safely in the refined company of other girls and not that of rough seamen. I have no doubt that you are receiving excellent guidance and are growing into the refined young lady I know you will become. I am sure you have made many lasting friends among the other young ladies. I find I like thinking of you being among your new friends and gushing merrily about girlish things.

We arrived in port yesterday and I was able to take a coach to London. We had a great joyous family reunion, with all members being found healthy and well. I regaled them with tales of our adventures and I could not stop talking about you, dearest girl. I have informed my parents of our intent to wed. I have told them all (almost all) about you, and Father is most approving. Mother withholds judgment, which is not surprising considering your recent way of life, but I know you will win her over instantly with your simple charm and grace.

Please excuse the brevity of this letter, as I want to get it off as quickly as I can because—great good luck—the
Reliance
is leaving today bound for Boston. I have heard she is a fast frigate so you should receive this in under a months time. Unheard-of speed!

I know that it is too soon to be hoping to get a letter from you, dear Jacky, but still I hope. I know, too, that you'll excuse my poor, stiff prose
—
I am not good with a pen. Forgive me and know that I send this with all my love. I am

Your most obedient & devoted servant,

Jaimy

Long before the dawn comes in my window, there is a gentle knock on my door and a voice whispering loudly, "Miss. I'm sorry, but it's time for you to get up."

I mumble, "All right," and pile out of bed, the events of the days before pouring in on my mind like a huge bad dream and I..."Wait. Please wait till I get dressed 'cause I don't know what to do and someone's got to show me. Please come in." I push down the urge to cry and I splash water on my face to hide any tears that might want to come and I start to put on my clothes.

The girl Annie opens the door and comes in and sees me fumbling with my new gear. "Here. Put the blouse on first," she says, picking it up and handing it to me. I slip it over my head. "Now the skirt. The weskit straps go over your shoulders and it tucks into here and goes over the bottom part of the blouse and laces up the front. Take a breath while I cinch it up. There." She pauses in her instructions and then says, "I'm sorry, Miss, that you..."

"It's not Miss anymore, Annie, it's Tacky, and don't be sorry. It's nobody's fault but mine." I run my brush through my hair. "Do we have time to braid my pigtail?"

"We have time. Peg knew you'd need some time getting used to things so she sent me up early." She takes my hair, separates it deftly into three parts, and then braids it up with brisk efficiency. I had been wearing my hair tied up loose with ringlets hanging by my face like the other girls, but now that I'm downstairs and no longer a lady-in-training, I figure I'd better put it back in working trim. This new outfit feels trim, too. The weskit clutching my lower ribs puts me in mind of Charlie's old blue vest I used to wear on the ship to hide the fact that I was a girl. 'Cept this vest only covers up my lower ribs, leavin' my chest free to roam under the soft white shirt. Not that there's that much of me to bounce about under there, but still it's more comfortable this way, rather than being mashed down like I had to keep it when I was a boy on the ship. This skirt only comes down to mid-calf, so it'll be easier to get around in.

"This ain't a bad rig," I says, pullin' the bottom of the weskit down over the waist of the skirt.

"It isn't exactly the highest style," says Annie with a bright smile, "but if Mistress wants to dress us up as milkmaids, well, it's her school."

"What do we do first?" I ask, as I sit back on the bed to pull on my stockings.

"First we bring up the water and fill the pitchers in the ladies' privy and set the table for their breakfast, and then we ring the bell to get them up and while they're getting dressed and ready we eat our breakfast, and then one of us plays the chimes to call them to their breakfast. Some of us help Peg cook the breakfast and some serve it, and some of us come up and clean the privy and make the beds. And that's just for starters." She pauses and comes around the
bed. "And speaking of beds, we should make yours. If Mistress comes up and sees it unmade you'll catch it."

"Thanks for looking out for me, Annie. You've done that since the first day I got here and I won't forget it."

Annie and I creep down the stairs and we meet the others coming up the stairs with buckets of steaming water, and I see that Betsey has one in each hand so I reach over and take one of them and we all walk silently through the hall of sleeping girls to the privy. We dump the water out of the pitchers and fill them with warm water and gather up all the used towels and washrags and clean up the basins a bit and then heads back out. When we're all out of the dormitory, Rachel, the oldest of the serving girls, rings the bell hanging outside the door and I hear groans from the ladies within.