Rapture of the Deep: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, Soldier, Sailor, Mermaid, Spy (32 page)

I find I am not the only who can sigh
ahhhhh.

"And what will you wear tonight, Miss?" Higgins asks.

I think for a moment and then say, "I believe I'll wear my uniform—
with
the trousers. Every man on both these ships has seen enough of my scrawny self, so that my wearing pants should no longer be a scandal."

"Very well, Miss."

As Higgins gets my stuff together, I pull up a chair next to the tub and unloosen Joannie's long hair from its braids and proceed to wash it.

A boat was sent over to get us at Two Bells into the Second Dog Watch. Since it's just Higgins, the Doctor, and me, I suspect this will be a strategy meeting, the Professor not being invited.

As I step onboard the dear old
Dolphin,
I am pleased to see that we are received by Captain Hudson, Lieutenant Bennett, and Lieutenant Fletcher. I am not pleased to see Lieutenant Flashby there, too, but let that go.

Then I hear a familiar refrain whispered low from up in the rigging:

Puss ... Puss ... Puss-in-Boots!

Unlike the cat in the old French tale, I do not carry a sword, not now, anyway. But I am wearing my lieutenant's blue jacket with its gold lace threaded through the lapels, and tight white breeches tucked into my shiny black riding boots, so I guess that's close enough.

In response to the cheer, I hit a brace, give a quick bow to fo'c's'le, main deck, and fantail, and then follow the Captain to his cabin.

We are quickly seated and wineglasses are put in our hands. The King's health—and new wealth—are toasted and drunk to, and food is served and eaten. It's good, but not as good as what Jemimah dishes out, I note with some satisfaction.

And then we get down to business.

Captain Hudson stands at his chair and lifts his glass. "To our little mermaid, who has added considerable wealth to our beleaguered nation."

Hear, hear!

I affect modesty and acknowledge the toast by saying, "We are all but simple foot soldiers in our march toward freedom and security for our blessed isle." I swear I hear Flashby choke at that, and, for once, I don't blame him.

The Captain leans back, relaxes, and says, "We have a considerable fortune in gold in our hold, and I am not easy with that. Not easy at all. Though I challenge any enemy to come before us and taste the mettle of our courage, I know that we could be taken by a superior force and the treasure would be lost to our cause."

Captain Hudson pauses to take a draught of his wine, and then he continues. "The fight against Napoleon Bonaparte is on in earnest, and that takes treasure—much treasure to pay soldiers, much treasure to mount an army. Much treasure like we now have lying in our hold."

I agree. "Ah, yes. I heard the First Lord speak of the campaign along with the need for more funds when I was last in his office."

A low hum on that. Most of the officers at this table could not hope to be in the same room with the First Lord.
Come up in the world a bit, have you, Jacky Faber?
I pat my lips with my napkin, then sit back and listen. My hand searches out Jaimy's under the table and finds it.

"Therefore," continues the Captain, "I have decided to take what treasure we now have to our base in Jamaica, place it in safekeeping, and then, after we have come back for the rest of it, we will mount up a well-armored squadron to get it all safely back to England."

I consider this and then say, "That sounds like a good plan to me, Captain. However, I do not want my ship floating out here like a sitting duck without your kind protection. Therefore, I'd like to take her back into Havana to reprovision while you are gone. We could arrange to rendezvous again in what ... a week? In this same spot."

The Captain nods, plainly thinking this over.

"We might pick up more information on the
San Cristobal
when we are in port as well," adds Dr. Sebastian. "It would be good for us to know when that behemoth plans to sail."

"Right," says Captain Hudson, coming to a decision. "We will leave in the morning and will escort you as far as the mouth of Havana Harbor. Mr. Bennett, make all preparations."

"Aye, Sir," says Mr. Bennett.

That business done, the party turns to the wine in earnest. Glasses are filled and emptied and songs are proposed and sung. Eventually I make so bold as to ask, "Perhaps, Captain, you would be so good as to allow Mr. Fletcher to stay again with me for the night, as it would give me great comfort?"

Captain Hudson looks at me through lowered eyelids and says, "It wouldn't give
me
any great comfort." Then he looks at Jaimy. "If I were about twenty years younger, Mr. Fletcher, you would have a problem on your hands ... Oh, never mind. Do the same conditions on your behavior apply?"

Both Jaimy and I nod, neither one of us very enthusiastically.

"Very well, then, but you will be back onboard at five thirty in the morning, or you will be put on report," he says to Jaimy. "And you, Miss, will behave yourself. I do believe you have this officer in the palm of your little hand to do with him as you will."

The wine works on me, too, and I enter into the exchange.

"Mr. Fletcher is the captain of his own fate, Sir. As for behaving myself, I believe I have always done that," I say, speaking the first outright lie I have said this night. "Perhaps Intelligence should have fitted me for a chastity belt before we embarked on this mission."

Laughter all around—except from Jaimy. I give his hand an extra squeeze.

"Ah, if those medieval devices actually worked, I'm sure the Service would have put one on you!" says Dr. Sebastian. "Except that we know you to be an expert lock picker and would have the thing off in an instant."

"I'm sure it would have been deucedly uncomfortable," I retort, moving my bottom around a bit on the chair. "And totally unnecessary ... I think." I give Jaimy a hot look on that one.

Har-har!

These men have been at sea too long.

Much later I am locked in my lover's arms onboard the
Nancy B.,
and that's the way the world's supposed to be as I figure it.

Oh, Jaimy, this is just so fine...

Boooooooommmm...

The sound of the cannon rolls out across the water, the signal from the
Dolphin
that she is turning west for Kingston and leaving us to our own devices. We are on course, 110 degrees south southeast and bound for Havana.

I knew the salute was coming and had decided to return it. My nine-pound guns, called that because of the size of shot that they throw, are puny next to the massive twenty-four-pounders of the
Dolphin,
but they still give out with a satisfying sound and can do much damage when called upon to do so.

"Fire, Mr. Thomas," I say, and John Thomas jerks the lanyard on gun number one, portside forward.

Crrrack!

I give it a moment and then say, "Fire, Mr. McGee."

Crrrack!

The powder smoke drifts away and I order, "Reload, lads. Davy, Tink, check the charges on the other guns, but leave the canvas covers on. I have a feeling we're going to have a visitor."

We have two nine-pound guns on each side of the
Nancy,
as well as a three-pound swivel gun mounted both fore and aft. The sailors tend to the cannons and then shortly give the thumbs-up signal. I nod and wait.

Dr. Sebastian comes up next to me on my quarterdeck. "You are expecting company?"

Professor Tilly had left us and gone aboard the
Dolphin
last night, there being no diving or other scientific research being done now, and relations still being rather cool between the two men of science since the near killing of me. Dr. Sebastian cannot forgive Tilly's failure to warn me about the Rapture of the Deep ... and the bends. The bell has been left in the
Nancy
's forward hold, which is good for three reasons. Number one, I think Tilly has lost interest in it and is ready to pursue his next foolish fancy. Number two, we'll need it to bring up the rest of the gold when we rendezvous in a week. The third is that I intend to keep it when all is said and done.

"Yes, Doctor," I answer, and before I can even scan the horizon, there is a call from Daniel Prescott on lookout above.

"On deck there! Ship to the east!"

Sure enough, the
Dolphin
was hardly out of sight when Flaco Jimenez's ship heaves into sight. I lift my long glass and see his colors flying at the masthead—a red devil's skull with the two crossed cannons below.
El Diablo Rojo.

"Who is it?" asks the Doctor.

Dr. Sebastian could have gone off with Tilly, but he did not. I suspect our good Doctor, in hanging around with me, has gotten a bit of a taste for the high life—or the low life, depending on how you look at it. Plus, I'm sure he wants to get some more drawings out of me. We have done quite a lot already, including depictions of diving in the bell, but if a few more go into his leather portfolio, well, all the better, as he sees it.

"It's only Flaco," I say, snapping my long glass shut. "On the
Red Devil."

"The pirate Jimenez? But—"

"Don't worry, Flaco won't hurt us," I say, trying unsuccessfully not to smile. "We were once members of the same ... fraternity. Plus, I have nothing onboard worth stealing"...
fingers crossed behind my back
..."But still..."

I do trust Flaco—up to a point. He is a pirate after all. But I do not trust that El Feo, not a bit. So I lift my voice.

"Battle stations everyone! Clear for action! Let's show him we have teeth!" My crew springs to their stations—Tink, Davy, McGee, and John Thomas to the port and starboard nine-pounders, Jim Tanner on helm, Joannie and Daniel to the hatch, standing by as powder monkeys. Higgins and I will handle the bow and stern swivel guns should the need arise. "Let's show him we are still in the game. Joannie, put up our black colors. Dr. Sebastian, best get below."

The girl gives an excited whoop, dives down into my cabin, and pops back out with my pirate flag. Then she whips down our American colors and hoists our Jolly Roger. I know what she is thinking—
Look at that! A real pirate ship!

"Highly irregular," murmurs Dr. Sebastian, looking up at the grinning skull and crossed bones waving in the breeze.

"It's necessary, you'll see," I reply. "I will have to draw on some old friendships to keep us safe. Otherwise, we will have to fight."

"Trust her, Doctor," urges Higgins. Since "Battle Stations" has been called, he has brought up my sword and pistols and he straps them on me. The grips of his own two pistols stick out of his waistcoat, primed and ready. "She has a certain way with these brigands."
Being one herself, Higgins is thinking, I'm sure.

The Doctor goes below to his lab, which I hope will not very shortly be turning into a bloody surgery.

The
Red Devil is
a fast little brig—I know because I had raced her many times on my sweet
Emerald
and almost lost a few times—with six twenty-four-pounders on either side. There are two chasers—nine-pound Long Toms mounted forward, 'cause that's what a pirate does, chase its prey, unlike an honest merchantman like the
Nancy B.
'Course everything's a mess, with ropes hanging everywhere, stained sails, unkempt men lazing about the rigging and staring down at us—all things that offend the Royal Navy sailor in me.

Flaco swoops down upon us and pulls his ship alongside. Some good seamanship is shown as he matches his vessel's speed with ours so that he can call over from his quarterdeck.

"Hola, Jacquelina! Qué pasa, muchacha?"

I go over to my rail and Flaco goes to his so that we are face to face.

"Nada, Flaco,"
I call back. "We are nothing but simple sponge divers going in to Havana to sell our catch."

He looks up at the sponges drying on our rigging. Joannie has been diligent in collecting them in the shallows while I was below, collecting gold, but we do not have nearly the number that we had on our last trip into Havana.

"We know you are anything but simple, Jacky, my heart. We have been watching you, going up and down in that thing that looks like a cathedral bell. We are not stupid, nor are we overly greedy. Come, dear one, share with us. It will benefit us both. You give us half the gold, and we'll give you and your ship safe passage to wherever you want to go. What do you say?"

I say, "Get yourself off, Flaco. If you are good, I will let you buy me a drink at Señor Ric's when we get to Havana."

The rascal grins back at me. "Surely not a proper welcome for your once and future lover, Captain Flaco Jimenez."

"You flatter yourself, Flaco. I was never your lover, and you know it."

"Si. But it was a close thing,
querida mía,
and you know it was," he says. "So let us take up where we left off and let me board you now."

"You may board my ship, but as for me, you will board
nada."

He motions to his man on the helm, and the ships come together. Then he hops aboard, flamboyant as usual—cocked hat on head, braided hair ending in ribbons, beads, and tinkly bells, teeth gleaming in his tanned face. He wears loose pantaloons tucked into heavy boots, a frilly white shirt open at the neck, and a brocaded waistcoat over that.

"You treated me badly when last we met, Flaco." I stick out my lower lip and put on a pout.

"I am sorry, my heart, but my
machismo
got the best of me." He grins, making a mock bow and putting one knee to the deck. "It always happens when I get close to my sweet little
Inglesa."

"I don't like being dumped on the floor," I say, with a sniff, "by some second-rate pirate, like you did to me at Ric's."

"I do not mind being called a pirate, my soul, but I am wounded by being called a second-rate one by the very love of my life." He puts on a hurt look. I try to suppress a smile but am not successful. I find it very hard to stay mad at this jolly rogue.

"And now you will demand to search my poor little boat for this supposed gold?" I ask. "That is so rude and unkind of you, but go ahead. We have nothing to hide."