In The Belly Of The Bloodhound (2 page)

The crew of the[_ Enterprise,_] a Yankee trader bound for Newport, Rhode Island, with a cargo of fine British linen and woolen goods, was obviously astounded to find a lone female in a small boat far, far out to sea.

“Ahoy, mates!” I sang out as I pulled the[_ Morning Star_] alongside the towering ship. “Got room to take a poor lost girl to America?” I asked as I put on my brightest smile, grinning up at the amazed faces looking down at me.

It turns out they did have room, and not only for me but also for my[_ Star.
] The skipper of the merchant, a Captain Billings, was none too pleased to see me, sailors’ superstitions about women on board being bad luck and all, but he cheered up considerably when, upon gaining the deck by way of the ladder that was lowered down to me, I curtsied low to him and announced that I could pay for my passage, and “maybe a little extra if you big strong men could stow my dear little boat aboard.” Orders were barked out and the[
Morning Star_] was quickly dismasted and hoisted aboard by crane. She was overturned on the forward hatch and lashed down securely, but not before I retrieved my seabag and was shown down to my stateroom by a[_ very_] presentable young officer, who blushed mightily as I allowed him to lead me to my quarters.[_ Hmmmm…There certainly are a lot of pretty boys in this world._]

That young officer, one Andrew Billings, who was both Second Mate[_ and_] the Captain’s son, turned out to be a courteous, fine, and very shy companion. Course I had to tell him I was promised to another, as I once again am, but still we passed many pleasant days on the deck with the wind blowing through our hair. Maybe holding hands a bit and such like—but I was good, mostly.

They were right pleasant to me on the way over, in spite of the stupid superstition about women on board—hey, I figure I’ve brought some ships some actual good luck by being aboard…But then again, some not. Discipline not being as tight on a merchant as on a warship, I soon was able to pull out my whistle and play a few songs and dance a few dances, and in no time I was the darling of the ship, and all was well. There was a fiddle on board, too, so I was able to practice that. The fiddle’s owner was no Gully MacFarland, but he was a decent cove and I learned a few new tunes off of him. And he off of me. I had left Gully’s fine, fine fiddle,

the Lady Lenore, as he had named her, back in London for some minor repairs when I left for what turned out to be my last voyage, and it’s well I did, else the Lady Lenore would now be at the bottom of the sea, being badly played by mermaids. Or, worse, mermen.

Letting one of the crew—that one being the aforementioned beautiful, bashful Andrew—have some sort of claim on me, I did not have to fend off any other advances or attentions. And, as the Captain’s son, Andrew does enjoy a certain privilege. I mean, who’s gonna mess with the Captain’s son’s girl?

Although I am usually quite free with my kisses, I held myself back and did not let it get to that. A little hand-holding is all, though I did take his arm as we promenaded the decks. As I’ve said, I was good, mostly, for, after all, am I not newly re-promised to Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher? This I had to tell the crestfallen Mr. Billings after he asked me to marry him, one week into the voyage. “But, Andrew, if it were not for that, I would surely take you into my affections and give myself in marriage to you. Really, I would, for you are the kindest and sweetest of young men…”[_ Right, Andy—get in line behind Randall Trevelyne, Robin Raeburne, Ishmael Turner, Joseph Jared, and a few others, and not necessarily in that order. And maybe Arthur McBride, that Irish devil, too…_]

It was, by and large, a most pleasant journey, and three weeks, five days later, we pulled alongside a pier in Newport. In no time at all, my[_ Morning Star_] was put over the side, rerigged, and I bounced down the gangway, with my seabag on my shoulder, to get into her. Before leaving the ship, though, I lifted my face to Andrew Billings and gave him a good one on the lips to remember me by. I do believe I gave the shy Mr. Billings something to remember and think about, and possibly in his next encounter with a female, he will have more confidence in himself and I will have done some good in this world. I’d like to think that.

I steered out away from the[_ Enterprise,
] for I wanted these good-byes to be quick and final—no hanging around sad-eyed young men for me, no sir, not when there’s work to be done. I trimmed the sail, threw over the tiller, and pulled away for New York, waving to my friends of the past month till I was well out of sight. Then I reversed course and slipped into the docks on the south side of the town, where I figured I would not run into any members of the[
Enterprise_] crew, they being well occupied in off-loading their cargo.

I had told them that I was headed for New York, in case anyone came around asking them questions, but I wasn’t headed there at all—no, my plan was to outfit the[_ Star_] and cruise up the southern side of Cape Cod and then across Massachusetts Bay to Boston.

When last I saw Jaimy Fletcher, he was standing on the smouldering deck of the warship that had taken on board the survivors and the wounded of the smashed and sunken[_ Wolverine,
] looking out at me as I pulled away in the lifeboat that was to become the[
Morning Star.
] In the midst of the destruction, I stood up and semaphored to him the word[
Boston_] so that he would know where I was intending to go, so’s he could come collect me, should we both survive.

Better do it this time, Jaimy…
p. Ah, but I know he will, and there is to be no more doubting, not on my part. If he is able to come for me, he will.

It turned out to be a very good thing that I left the[_ Enterprise_] in the quick way I did, considering what I found tacked to a wall not an hour later. I had tied up the[_ Star_] and gone off joyously shopping. I was outfitting my dear little[_ Star,
] now the flagship of Faber Shipping, Worldwide, after all, and was quite excited about it—some line and a small anchor, an oil lamp, bedding, spirit stove and fuel, teapot, tea, sugar, water jug, cups, and all to be carefully stowed in my cabin. There’s something in me that loves doing this sort of thing…saying,[
This will go here and that will go here…no…there._]
p. I carried all these things back and happily stowed them in the[_ Star_] and again went into the town to look about. I strolled up Thames Street, looking in all the shops, blissfully thinking nothing amiss,[_ and—Hooray!—I_] found a post office, where I was able to mail my letter to the Home for Little Wanderers, in London, telling everyone that I had made it over all right and to please get word to Jaimy. Leaving there, I rolled on, feeling the strangely solid land beneath my feet once again. I spotted a likely looking fiddle sitting in a pawn shop window, and although my money belt was getting mighty light, I bought the fiddle, figuring it would help me pay my way up the coast. I tried her out in the shop, and while she was no Lady Lenore, she did have a certain spirit and I knew I would learn to love her.

I was carrying the fiddle case back to the[_ Star,_] thinking I was done shopping and would spend the night in the cuddy cabin, merrily rearranging things by lamplight, when I spied a piece of paper tacked to a post.

Uh-oh…
p. Publick Notice

Hear ye, All ye Citizens of the Americas—Desired by the Gov’t of His Majesty, King George
III
of England, the Quick Apprehension of the Notorious Pyrate Jacky Faber a Female, Aged about 16 years, on Charges of Piracy on the High Seas, Theft of Royal Property, and Other High Crimes and Misdemeanors. The Miscreant is Distinguished by having an Anchor Tattoo on her Belly and a Peculiarly White Left Eyebrow due to a Scar Beneath. She is extremely Small and Slender, weighing Approx. 90 Pounds, and has been known to Disguise her Person as a Boy by Donning Male Clothing. The Girl is a British Citizen, so Citizens of the United States should not think it Amiss to Apprehend her on Behalf of His Gracious Majesty. A reward of

--250 Pounds, Sterling-- is offered for the Capture and Delivery of said Criminal Alive to any of His Majesty’s Consulates or Embassies.

She may also be Bound Over and Delivered to any of His Majesty’s Royal Ships that Commonly Lie at Anchor in Major Harbors. A Reward of 100 Pounds is offered if the Female is taken Dead, her Head and the Patch of Skin Containing the Tattoo, Preserved in Alcohol, being Considered Sufficient Proof for the Claiming of the Reward.

WARNING!

This Female is Known to be Extremely Clever and Duplicitous in Bending Unsuspecting Males to her Will. Although Godless and Without the Morals and Sensibilities usually Ascribed to her Sex, She is said to be Charming and Fair of Face and has been Educated and can Ape the Manners of her Betters, but

Beware

She carries both Sword and Pistol, as well as a Knife concealed on her Person, and is to be considered Extremely Dangerous, having Killed, by her own Hand, a Considerable Number of Unfortunate Men.

Looking furtively about, I kept myself from running off in a blind panic. Seeing no one watching, I reached up and ripped off the poster and stuck it under my arm. And then I hurried, but not so fast as to raise suspicion, back toward the safety of my boat.

They sure didn’t miss much, the scurvy sods,
I thought as I climbed down the ladder and dropped into the[_ Star.
] But how did they know about the tattoo, I wonder?[
Hmmm…
] Although I consider myself a girl of some virtue, it is true that I have in the past become separated from my clothes in the presence of more than one young man…but neither Randall nor Robin nor Jaimy would peach on me. And neither would Petey or Higgins…Ah, but of course—that damned book that Amy Trevelyne wrote about me! Wherein she told the entire English-speaking world about the Brotherhood of Ship’s Boys of His Majesty’s ship the[
Dolphin_] tattoo that rests on my right hip.[_ Ah, Amy, if your aim in writing that book was to get me, well, you got me good._]

I quickly stowed my new fiddle, threw off the lines, hoisted the sail, and headed out of Newport Harbor, fuming over this latest bit of trouble. I particularly don’t like the thought of my head floating in a crock of alcohol—don’t they know that I have sworn that spirits will never again pass my lips? And here they want to put my whole head, lips and all, into a crock of pure alcohol.[_ Damn!
] This poor Cockney’s noggin might yet end up in an anatomist’s jar, for all her struggles to avoid that fate. And while we’re at it, my tattoo’s on my[
hip,
] not my[
belly,_] which you Admiralty sods oughta get right. After all, I am a lady…well, most of the time, anyway…and ladies don’t have tattoos on their bellies.

When well under way, I wasted no time at all in getting back into my sailor togs—not only for comfort and ease of movement, but also so that if anyone put a long glass on me and wondered what I was about, they’d figure me for a boy out fishing and think no more of it. Boys get to do what they want in this world, and girls do not.

About an hour later, I pulled into a little cove, which my newly acquired chart told me was Sakonnet Cove in the lee of Price’s Neck and which gave me and the[_ Morning Star_] an excellent, calm anchorage next to a pleasant beach. In the light of my little lamp, I saw that some sort of town was over there to the west, but the lights winked out at dusk and there didn’t seem to be much going on, which was all right, ‘cause since my scare over the
WANTED
poster, I didn’t want to go ashore. Not just yet, anyway. Besides, outside, the weather was working up.

I went on deck to make a final check that my anchor wasn’t dragging and all was well, then went below for the night. I lit my little spirit stove and made tea and fried up some bacon, which I ate with bread and was content. I thought about doing some reading, but with the sea kicking up and the[_ Star_] bucking about, I decided against it—couldn’t have my lamp turning over and setting my boat afire. So I crawled into my bunk and pulled the covers over me and tried to settle down to sleep.

I was worried that the nightmares would come again, and it is not an idle worry, for they do come often. I have always had nightmares. I had them back in the kip under Blackfriars Bridge when I was with the Rooster Charlie Gang, and I had them on the[_ Dolphin.
] I had them especially after the pirate LeFievre put a rope around my neck and swung me out to hang. I had them in the dormitory of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls, awakening the whole place with my howls, and I had them on the[
Enterprise,
] where several times I had returned to consciousness shaking in the arms of Andrew Billings, who had entered the sanctity of my room, thinking my innocence was being attacked. I had them on the[
Wolverine,
] too, rousing my poor fellow midshipmen out of their slumbers, and on my[
Emerald_] as well, coming back to my confused senses, terrified and soaked with sweat, to find Higgins at my bedside, trying to soothe and comfort me out of my night horrors. Not only do I relive in my dreams the terror of being hanged by LeFievre or nearly being burned alive by Reverend Mather, but now the slaughter of Trafalgar presses upon my mind as well, and it presses on my mind not only when I have the night dreads, but even in the daytime, when I let myself dwell upon it—The[_ arms thrusting through the ports of the_] Redoubtable,[_ arms made bloody from my sword held in my hand, which was piercing them, through flesh and touching bone. Bloody arms, so much blood, and so many friends lost—_] and a black cloud comes over my mind and sometimes doesn’t go away for too long a while.

In my bed I shake my head to banish such thoughts.[_ You will think on cheerier things, girl.
] I turn onto my side, wrap my arms around my legs and pull my knees to my chin, and smile to myself, thinking back to the[
Enterprise.
] I imagine the crew of that good ship has by now seen the
WANTED
poster concerning the “Notorious Pyrate Jacky Faber.” While Andrew didn’t get anywhere near seeing my blue tattoo, my unmistakable white eyebrow would be a clincher on any suspicions anyone might have that I was the
WANTED
one. I chuckle into my pillow as I picture Captain Billings fuming in front of the damning flyer, his Yankee trader heart breaking over the loss of the 250 pounds sterling reward that had been seated at his table for the past three weeks or so. I can also see in my mind’s eye the same Captain Billings storming into his cabin and calling Andrew to him and slapping a copy of the poster in front of his young son, together with dire warnings about the “Pernicious Nature of Some Females”—Oh,[
soft and pliant and yielding in their appearances, with soft sighs and melting eyes, but oh so cunning and devious as well. Take warning from this, young man, beware, oh beware, lest you again clasp a serpent to your bosom._]