In The Belly Of The Bloodhound (14 page)

“That is certainly the truth. I had to put myself in the way of Constance Howell, who was on her way to tell Mistress on you. If I had not done that, you would have had some serious excuses to make, believe me.”

I did not know this. “Why, thank you for that, Amy,” I say, and mean it. “I didn’t think I was being that bad at the time.”

Amy sniffs. “You never think you are being bad.”

“So you agree I deserved the red petticoat, then, Sister?” I say, miffed.

“No. That was rude. But if anyone gives people like Constance reason to vent their prudish spleen, it is you, Jacky.”

“Them that don’t like me can leave me alone, that’s what I say.”

“If ever I will marry,” says Dorothea, the glass still held to her eye, “it will have to be to a man of great learning, who will love me enough to let me pursue my own interests. Otherwise, I shall stay single.”

“And what about you, young Jim? Who will you marry?” I ask of my stout coxswain.

“Whom
will you marry,” corrects Amy.

Grrr…

“A sturdy lass who knows how to swing a clam hook and what can bring in two bushels between the tides, that’s[_ whom_] I will marry,” says my practical Jim, but I don’t believe him.

“What about sweet little Claire, who worships the ground you walk upon?” I tease.

He reddens and pretends to check the trim of the sail. “She’s a farm girl, and being a seaman, I don’t have no truck with such as that.”

“Ah, yes, well we shall see. Farm girls do have their charms, you know. They know how to make butter and cheese, and how to put up preserves, and all sorts of things that don’t have to do with fishy stuff. Here’s a song for you, lad, that you might take to heart.” I pull my whistle from my sleeve and tootle a bit of the melody, then sing…

Now do you ken my bonnie Jean, She’s every fisher laddie’s dream,

She guts the herring down by the sea And saves her kisses just for me!

“How would you like to kiss a girl who’s been guttin’ herring all day? She’d be smellin’ pretty ripe, I’d think.” Cries of[_ eeeeuuwww!_] all around.

“I ain’t gonna marry nobody, then,” swears Jim, upon consideration of the choices offered him.

As we come around the south end of the island, I see an opportunity for some fun with Amy. There is a pack of seals lying about the ledge rock there. I motion for Jim to bring the[_ Star_] in closer to the seals, and he does.

“That is all well for you, Elspeth, and I hope you and your Beauchamp have many fine fat babies, and, Dorothea, I hope you find your kind scientist, but I am afraid that for poor Amy and me, well, we are doomed to live single all of our lives.” I heave a great, theatrical sigh.

“Oh?” says Elspeth, her mouth making an open O of disbelief. “But what about your Jaimy, and Amy, your Mr. Pickering?”

“Ah, it’s sad, that,” I say, shaking my head and affecting a tone of deep melancholy. “My Jaimy is a world away and may never return, and Amy will not give poor Ezra Pickering the time of day.”

“I am not ready for that sort of thing,” says Amy primly, as I knew she would for she has said it at least a thousand times.

“Nay, for us it will be a lifetime of quiet spinsterhood, taking only Great Silkies for lovers.” I nod in solemn affirmation of what I have just said as if I hold it to be the gospel truth. We are getting really close to the seals now. They have seen us and now regard our approach with their big round eyes. Amy is seated on the other side of the[_ Star_] and so does not see them yet.

“I suppose you will now tell us what a Silkie is.” She sighs, looking wary.

“Oh, Sister, how can you not know of Silkies? Why, they fairly abound in places like this!” I put on my teaching voice. “Well, then, Silkies are strange mystical beings that are seals in the daytime but can change into half men at night, and when they do, they stand on great strong legs and have huge hairy chests and great beards all twined with seaweed, and sometimes one of them takes it into his mind to suddenly appear in the middle of the night at the foot of the bed of a comely maiden, and when he leaves, she ain’t a maiden no more, oh, no, she ain’t. Before he gets down to business, he sings her a song and it goes like this…

I am a man upon the land,

I am a Silkie under the sea

I come from a far, far distant strand And I have come to get a babe by thee.

And then he has his way with her and then leaves and nine months later, out pops the wee one. Always a boy, by the way—there ain’t no girl Silkies, otherwise why would Silkies bother with land girls, it bein’ inconvenient, like.” I pause to catch my breath.

“I swear you are a living, breathing scandal,” says Amy, not at all charmed by my little tale.

But I go on. “Of course, it all ends sadly, for the Silkie always comes back to claim his son after he’s been weaned, as he had sung to her before…

And it shall come to pass on a summer’s day, When the sun shines bright on every stone, I shall come and fetch my little young son, And teach him how to swim the foam.

And so she never sees the little fellow again, ‘cause he’s become a Silkie now, too. Unless, of course, she wants to row out to the ledge rock to look at him lyin’ around sunnin’ himself next to his dad.”

“How sad,” says Rebecca, mock serious.

“Ah, no, lass, it’s just the way of the world. Course now a lot of people say that these stories are just ways of girls explaining away a sudden swellin’ of the belly, but I’m a seaman and I know that Silkies are real ‘cause I’ve seen ‘em. I just barely escaped from one myself, on Malta it was, and it was a close thing I can tell you and…Oh,[_ my God!”_] I shout and jump to my feet. “Look, Amy! I’ll bet that’s one right there!” I point over Amy’s head and she turns around and gasps to see that the crowd of seals on the rocks is now a scant twenty feet away.

“Look at the rogue! The cheek of the rascal! Oh, Amy! He’s looking at you in a real husbandly way, he is! Look at him! Cheek! Damned cheek, it is! You leave our Amy alone now, you hear!”

“You stop that now, you!” cries Amy, looking distressed. The biggest seal of the lot rolls over and slips into the water.

“Uh-oh,” I say with concern, “you’ve done it now, Amy. Here he comes. I am sure that is a true Silkie and you are sure to have a visit tonight!”

“Tonight? In the[_ dormitory?”_] exclaims Elspeth, delighted. “Aye,” says I. “And won’t that be something to watch?”

“I’m sure that Mistress will object,” says Rebecca, equally delighted.

“And I am sure you are all being just horrid. Stop it now,” warns Amy, steaming.

“Mistress might try to object, but her rod against an eight-foot-tall Silkie? Nay, it wouldn’t serve.” I put on a resigned tone. “No, nothing can be done. I shall have to travel down to Dovecote and tell Colonel Trevelyne that the Great Silkie of Boston Bay has come and got a babe to his daughter, Amy. And, oh, the good Colonel will cry and rend his clothes and pull his hair, but in the end he will accept it as fathers have since time began. ‘Ah, Silkies…what are you going to do?’ he’ll say and sigh, at last, and I’ll sigh, then say, ‘There’s nothing that can be done, Sir. It’s just like when them elfin knights come at you with milk-white cheeks and all clad in the red silk. I mean, what’s a poor girl to do?’”

Just then, the seal that had slipped himself into the water chooses this moment to poke his whiskered head up next to the boat and to fix Amy with that big-eyed stare that seals have. She lets out a screech and tumbles to the other side of the boat, and I catch her and throw my arms around her and hold her.

“Oh, you bad thing, you!” she scolds, red-faced. “I do not think you are even a bit of a Christian with all your heathen stories of elves and seal-men and mermaids and spirits!”

I bury my face in the fabric of her dress and let her pound my shoulders with her fists while I roar with laughter.

After we have subsided and Amy has been mollified somewhat, but before we round the point to head back in, something out toward the open sea catches my eye.[_ Hmmm._] A black-painted ship…about the size of a bark…has pulled up behind Lovell Island.

“Dorothea dear, may I borrow the glass for a moment?” I ask. She hands it over and I put it to my eye, then train it on the black ship. I see the sails slacken and the anchor and its chain spill out over its bow to plunge into the water. I look back over my shoulder at the harbor—there’s plenty of room at the docks, and the wind is fair.[_ Why ain’t they going on in? Maybe the cargo will be rowed out to them?_] I’ll bet they’re up to something illegal. Maybe they’re smuggling in contraband. I can certainly relate to that, considering my past history. Well, it ain’t my ship and it ain’t my business, so I return the long glass to the eager hands of Dorothea.

I lie back against the gunwale, let the warm spring sun shine on my face, and think on my station in life. I am back at my school in the company of friends, mostly. My little enterprise with Jim and the[_ Star_] is prospering. The heat seems to be off for a bit on the
WANTED
posters. Jaimy will be over within a month to claim me, and we can begin our life together.

And tomorrow is a field trip, out on the water again. I bask like a seal in the sun and revel in these thoughts. I am content.

The day of the outing dawns glorious—clear and bright, with not a cloud in the sky. The morning is already turning warm, and the spring breezes are light and mild—in short, a perfect day for a picnic.

When I hear the wake-up chimes, I spring up out of bed with a[_ whoop_] and wash and comb and dress, then skip down the stairs, taking two at a time, to breakfast.

Upon entering the dining hall, I wave to Higgins, who’s managing the serving, assisted by Betsey and Ruthie. Annie and Sylvie and Katy are to come with us today to help Higgins and Mistress in setting out a proper picnic and are undoubtedly down below in the kitchen with Peg, making up the provisions needed for the day. I slide into my usual chair, where I am soon joined by Elspeth, Dorothea, Rebecca, and, eventually, Amy. Amy is not in the same high spirits as the rest of us, that’s for sure, and I know it’s because she doesn’t really relish going out on the water again. Leave it to me to come up with a best friend who’s afraid of the sea, while I am happiest there. Plus, I know she’s still smarting a bit over being the butt of my Silkie joke yesterday. I decide I shall make it up to her today.

“Come on, Amy, it’ll be fun,” I say, giving her a big fat kiss on the cheek before I begin shoveling in my eggs and bacon with my usual gusto. “We’ll explore, we’ll collect specimens of the seashore life, we’ll play fox-and-geese and crack-the-whip, and dance and sing songs and…just get out of here for a change.”

“Amen,” says Elspeth, and Amy nods but still looks doubtful. Then we all tuck into our breakfasts. A bit later we all get up and scatter, to get ready to go.

“Amy must have gotten on one of the other coaches,” I say, craning my neck out the window to look at the line of coaches pulling out and heading for the docks. We are the last in line. Higgins is not atop any of the other coaches, so he must be on top of this one. On the first coach there’s that Jerome, acting like a clownish footman, his foolish-looking wig bouncing up and down with the jostling of the carriage. He’s waving and grinning widely at all about him and seems to be enjoying himself hugely.

“Amy isn’t coming,” says Elspeth, sitting across from me. “What?”

“I thought you knew. Mistress has fallen ill and Amy decided to stay with her.”

“No, I didn’t know,” I say, wondering at this. Mistress is letting us go on this excursion without her being there to watch over us, her helpless charges—a duty I know she takes[_ very_] seriously? “Are you sure?” I ask. “It’s not like Mistress to let us go without her.”

“Well,” says Elspeth, looking about gaily, “apparently she took sick but told Dobbs that we should go, anyway. Why not? That nice Mr. Harrison is in charge of everything, and with that funny Jerome to help him…Actually, I’m glad she’s not coming—more time for sport, and less for study.[_ Hooray!”_]

Hmmmm.
I’m thinking this seems a bit strange, but maybe Mistress figures that with Higgins and Mr. Sackett along, everything will be on the up-and-up. I decide to enjoy the ride. I rest my elbows on my seabag, which sits securely in my lap. I’d been laughed at and asked why I was bringing that “big old thing,” and I said that Jacky Faber doesn’t go out on the salt without her seabag and that’s that.[_ Too much can happen out there and all you landlubbers should know that._] Dorothea sits next to Elspeth and she has her new long glass firmly in hand.

The coaches traveled down Common Street and then they turned onto West Street, and now we plunge onto Newbury Street. It seems we are headed toward the lower docks, down at the south end of the city—I guess that’s because we’ll be closer to our island destination. Newbury becomes Orange Street, and then we turn off on a side street, little more than an alley, really, which does not have a name, or at least not one with a sign.

We pull onto a wharf that appears to be completely deserted. Looking out I see only the single mast of a launch lying alongside the south side of the pier, a launch that I suppose is to be our conveyance. I see no other people about.[_ Hmmmm…
] That Jerome has jumped down and is handing girls down to a man in the boat. He is wearing white gloves and is bowing extravagantly to each girl in turn, smiling all the while, and the girls are setting up a merry chatter. It truly is a glorious day, but a growing worry is starting to gnaw at my mind.[
Why so far out of the way? Why a deserted pier?_]

I don’t wait for Jerome to come open our door, but instead pop it open myself and hop outside, seabag under my arm. The rest of the girls in the carriage tumble out and head for the boat, but I hang back and ask, “Higgins, why didn’t you tell me…,” as I lift my head to look up at him.

But Higgins isn’t there. There’s no one on top of the carriage.[_ What? Where’s Higgins? And where’s Mr. Sackett? What is going on here? I don’t like this…_]

I run out on the pier and look sharply about. All the girls are now down in the launch, sitting on a bench that runs entirely around the inside of the gunwales. In the center is a tarpaulin that I suppose covers up the supplies needed for the day. Jerome stands and waves me to come over to the ladder and extends one white-gloved hand.