In The Belly Of The Bloodhound (13 page)

She stops and comes back to face me. “They were teaching me my place, you see. They were also teaching her.”

She sits back down and resumes her sewing. “Things were never the same after that. Things became as you see them now. I was taken out to the slave quarters, and instead of being her friend, I became her slave, something, I then realized, I had always been and had simply forgotten.”

She turns off the lamp, and I lie there in the dark, eyes wide open, and steaming. And thinking. And plotting.

“Higgins, can we afford five dollars for a worthy cause?” It is a Saturday and I’m up for an outing and I’ve got something in mind.[_ Play my own game, indeed._]

“I believe we can, Miss.”

“Good. I want to deliver it personally. You’ll need your gear. We can go quietly out the back.” Higgins’s eyebrows go up at this and I say, “Don’t worry, we shan’t be gone long.” I already have my cloak slung over my arm.

“Very well, Miss.”

We go down to his room and Higgins takes off his butler jacket, puts his two small pistols into the pockets of his waistcoat, and then puts on his out-on-the-town jacket. He had purchased these handguns before he left London, and fine pieces they are, being of the very latest invention—they use percussion caps and no longer depend upon the clumsy and often misfiring flintlock. He bought them expressly as protection for me, and I appreciate it. He offered to buy one for me, to keep in my purse, but I would have none of it, as I have seen what guns and cannons can do to the bodies of men. I told him that from now on, it’s Peaceable Jack, Honest Mariner.[_ I have laid down my sword and shield, down by the riverside,
] as the song goes, and[
I will study war no more._] Higgins did not express an opinion on that.

Higgins takes my cloak from me and holds it open. I step into it and he folds it around my shoulders. I wrap the mantilla around my face and pull the hood over my head. I am well disguised.

“Good. Now, let’s go.” Then it’s out the back and down toward town. Ah, freedom!

As we walk along, I ask Higgins about something that has puzzled me for a while. “Why do they want me so badly that they plastered these
WANTED
posters all over the place? I’m just one girl. That was just one little ship.”

Higgins does not reply but instead tips his hat to a passing man and woman. The man touches his hat and moves on. Then Higgins collects himself and replies, “I’ve done some thinking on this very thing. It has perplexed me, too, and I’ve come to the following conclusion: It is not that they care one whit about all that. It is that you know how to speak French, and with an American accent. You have shown yourself to be of an adventurous spirit. You have extricated yourself from many tenuous situations. Need I recite them? No? I thought not. You are not shy about donning various disguises, no matter how scandalous. In short…”

“In short, what?” I can’t see what he’s getting at. “In short, you would make the perfect spy.”

I gasp at the thought. Higgins continues.

“The new First Lord is very keen on espionage, so I hear. Why, think of it—the Admiralty could put you anywhere—female spies of your knowledge and background would have to be very rare, if they exist at all. So what is the cost of some printed paper in the light of that? Or even the fact that the Navy is putting itself up for some ridicule in this matter by keeping your name in the public eye. The story of a fifteen-year-old girl actually being in command of a Royal Navy ship is being circulated about the fleet, about England itself, making them a laughingstock. To think they are putting up with that to get you back…”

“They ain’t gonna get me back,” I say, pulling my mantilla tighter about my face. A coach full of men rumbles past and I turn my head away.

“That is to be devoutly hoped, Miss. However, if they do get you back alive, and bend you to their will, well, then it will have been well worth those silly pieces of paper. But suppose you are killed instead of captured and they get back your head in a sack? Well, so be it—what’s lost? The cost of printing those posters and the reward they would have to pay to whatever blackguard did you in? At least there would be no more ridicule. But if they get you back alive, ah, then it might well be worth all the cost. They could place you right in Napoléon’s own court with very little trouble. You are able to act as both the humble chambermaid and the highborn lady. You could even be the very one serving Boney his snails. Which are very good, by the way.”

“I will never be a spy and I will never eat a snail!” I say, rearing back in indignation.

“Never say[_ never._] Is that not one of your numerous mottos, Miss? Besides, they could force you to do it. By threatening harm to those you love. The practice of statecraft can be very brutal, especially when they are weighing the fate of one girl and her loved ones against that of millions.”

I walk along and fume and don’t say anything.[_ Spy, indeed!_]

A half hour later we turn into Cornhull Street, and there it is, three houses up. A bronze plaque on the side, next to the door, proclaims it to be the home of the Greater New England Society for the Abolition of Slavery. Higgins opens the door for me and we enter and go up to a desk where a well-dressed and handsome young black man is sitting. I am wearing my maroon riding habit, an outfit that I think gives me an air of aristocratic authority.

“May I help you, Miss?” he says, rising. A[_ very_] handsome young black man.

“Yes,” I say languidly. “I would like to make a donation to your cause. A donation in the amount of five dollars.”

That gets his attention, as it’s probably what he gets in three weeks of pay. He rises and says, “That is very generous of you, Miss. Will you come this way?”

He gestures toward an open door and I sweep in and see an older woman also at a desk. She stands up and says, “Yes?”

I take out a small cloth bag and lay it on her desk. “I wish to donate these five dollars to the antislavery cause,” I say.

She smiles and bows and says, “How good of you. It happens that we are having a fund drive and this donation will be very welcome. We are taking gifts from such as yourself and publishing the names of the donors in newspapers all through the United States, in hopes of encouraging other like-minded, good people to join our crusade. We thank you, and the legions of the cruelly oppressed thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary,” I say, letting my voice grow soft and languid. I already knew about this sort of thing from my friend Amy, she being highly political[_ and_] a staunch abolitionist. “Ah thank[_ you_] for carrying on this holy work.” I open the purse that hangs at my waist. “Heah,” I say, “is anothah five dollahs to ensure that an advertisement is taken out in mah name in the Richmond paper.”

“How kind. We shall see to it. As a matter of fact, there is a dispatch going down to our southern office this very day, and it will appear within the week,” she says with a smile. “And who may we put down as the kind benefactor?”

“Mah name is Clarissa Howe I say. “That is Miss Clarissa Worthington Howe of the Virginia Howes.”

Just wait’ll Guv’nor Howe gets a load of that! Him owning at least five hundred slaves, and his own darlin’ daughter…oh, how I hope it will be hot for her!
p. About a week later, at Chorus, Mistress appears at the doorway with a large, well-dressed, and obviously very angry man at her side.

Clarissa, who is right next to me, exclaims in delight, “Why, Daddy! What a surprise! What—”

But that’s as far as she gets. General Howe speaks not a word as he strides across the room, grabs his daughter by the wrist, and drags her out of the room, out of the school.

We do not see Clarissa for two whole days, and when we do, I make sure I smile sweetly as I give her one of my best curtsies and welcome her back into our company. Just so’s there’s no mistake. She glares at me with pure and open hatred. She knows, yes, she knows…

Oh,[_ was ten dollars ever better spent?_]

“Whoa! Look at the size of that brute!” I exult as the trap breaks the surface. I reach in and pull out the luckless lobster. “He must be three pounds if he’s an ounce!”

“Careful of his claws, Missy,” says Jim.

“Disgusting bug,” says Amy.

“Phylum Arthropoda, class Crustacea, genus and species[_ Homarus americanus,”_] says Dorothea.

“Don’t you let that thing splash me says Elspeth.

“Ah, and for sure he’ll decorate some gentleman’s table tonight,” says I, tossing the beast into the live box and wiping my hands on my skirt.

“Did you know, Sister,” intones the ever-cheerful Amy, “that in the early days in Massachusetts it was against the law to feed lobster to the slaves and indentured servants more than thrice a week? Yes, more often than that was considered cruelty.”

“I had heard that, Sister, as you have told me about it more than once, but I chalk it up to the early settlers not knowing that[_ everything_] tastes better when it is dipped in melted butter. And maybe with a squeeze of lemon, if you can find one. Ah, yes, that is the secret, and that is why[_ this_] American Homer will be loudly acclaimed by all the dinner guests as he, and a few of his fellows, are brought red and steaming into the banquet!”

I sit myself back down and say to Jim, “That’s the last of the traps. Let’s take a bit of a cruise about Spectacle Island over there before we head back in.” He nods and puts the tiller over.

“Isn’t this just the most wonderful day? And tomorrow is the field trip!” exults little Rebecca. “With that nice Mr. Harrison and that funny Jerome!”

I hold my tongue on the wonderfulness of those two. Mr. Harrison is the man who runs the excursion company that will take us out to Peddocks Island tomorrow, and he has been by the school several times to make the final arrangements. Hell, I could take everybody over in two trips with the[_ Star,
] but that proposal falls on deaf ears. On each of his visits, Mr. Harrison has brought with him his Negro slave, Jerome, and many of the girls are much taken with his antics. Jerome has a permanent silly grin on his face and he frolics about in an out-of-date fancy jacket that is at least two sizes too big for him, and he wears a white powdered wig that is always comically askew. He is an accomplished juggler and amazes the girls with several magic tricks, too. But he doesn’t amaze me. “We had many black men on the ships on which I served and they knew their seamanship and were respected for it,” I say to Amy, who shares my opinion in this matter…and[
they didn’t have to act like clowns._] This Jerome has cast some japing, rolling-eyed glances in the direction of Angelique, but I see nothing but disgust in her composed face at his amorous displays.

Well, to hell with them,
I think and stretch out and look up at the sky and my perfectly trimmed white sail. The sun is shining and it is warm and I am content. The five of us had checked out of the school, to stay the night at Elspeth’s house, Higgins having escorted us over there yesterday and then returned to the school…or wherever else he was going for the weekend. As before, Elspeth’s parents treated us like we were royalty and we had a grand time. I know that Dorothea agreed to come only because of a promised cruise in the[_ Star_] whereupon she might peer at many of the birds of the bay, and Amy came only to keep an eye on me, but all had fun at the Goodwins’ in spite of themselves. Little Rebecca, of course, is always up for a good time, wherever she can find it, poor thing. She has grown used to her parents being off on diplomatic duty and does not cry about it anymore.

“Hah! There’s a guillemot! A[_ Cepphus grylle!_] They don’t always come down this far. Wait till I tell Mr. Sackett! He will be ever so envious.” I look out over the water and see a stubby-winged black bird with white patches on its wings barely making it over the crests of the waves, little as those waves are. Beat on, little bird…

Dorothea has become entranced with my long glass this day and trains it on any hapless bird that might cross her line of sight. Though some make fun of her and her studiousness, I have never heard her say a bad word against anyone, so she is all right with me. I had Elspeth invite her, because I knew she would enjoy this. I look over at her, her eye glued to the glass. She is a pleasant-looking girl of medium height with unruly brown hair that she does not make a great deal of effort to keep neat. As a matter of fact,

she has a habit, when deep in study of some tome, of taking a tendril of that hair into her mouth to suck and chew upon. Mistress has told her that she will be switched if she catches her doing it again, but I don’t know if that has stopped her in the practice. She also has a pair of spectacles with round-shaped lenses that she wears sometimes when reading. The lenses are tinted blue and I think she wears them in imitation of Dr. Franklin. These Americans do like their Dr. Franklin. From what I’ve read, he was a bit of a rake—Old Lightning Rod, he was sometimes called—but what the hell.

I’ve decided to stop later today at Gardner’s Chandlery, on our way back to the school, so as to get Dorothea a glass of her own, as I know she will get great joy from it. She will protest that she has no money on her, and none of these rich girls ever do, but I will tell her we will charge it to Faber Shipping, Worldwide, and she can pay me back when next she can wheedle some money out of Daddy. Course I know that once I show her the way up to the widow’s walk, we may never see her again ‘cause she’ll be so busy peering through her long glass at all of the birds, stars, and who knows what all.

“I believe I shall marry that charming Mr. Beauchamp I met at Harvard College that day.” Elspeth sighs, beating her eyelashes. “He was ever so attentive to me.” We have gotten to the other side of Spectacle Island and are on a gentle beam reach in the light breeze. It is a perfect day and the talk is as light as the air.

“As that Mr. Trevelyne was to you, Jacky,” teases Rebecca, entering into the game.

“If by[_ attentive_] you mean his having his hands all over her when Mistress wasn’t looking, then he was that,” grumbles Amy.

“Now, now, Sister,” simpers I, “Brother Randall was merely being friendly, and you know I am not particularly shy in that way.”