The Mark of the Golden Dragon (18 page)

Haul on the Bowline, we're all bound for London Town,
Haul on the Bowline, the Bowline HAUL!
Haul on the Bowline, we'll dance a jig in Georgie's hall,
We'll haul on his Bowline, his Royal Bowline, HAUL!

And so we are off, laughing and singing, all on the bounding main.

A Personal Friend of Yours
Onboard the Schooner
N.B.A.
Cape Town, South Africa
May 1808

Miss Amy Trevelyne
Dovecote Farm
Quincy, Massachusetts, USA

My Dearest Amy,

I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I trust, too, that you will excuse the brevity of this letter as I must get it off quickly because the ship carrying it to you is leaving within the hour.

When the
Lorelei Lee
came in to Boston Harbor, you probably learned of my sad demise, but you should know by now, dear Sister, never to believe that Jacky Faber is dead and gone unless you see with your own eyes her lifeless and doubtless soggy form stretched out on some plank—or else hanging from a rope and no longer kicking, which is much more likely the case. You do recall those geese on Daisy Hill, do you not?

Ha-ha.

Joannie Nichols is with me, in case anyone has been wondering about the whereabouts of the little imp. You may inform Mistress of that, as she does like to keep track of her girls, even us errant ones. But please keep my continued existence in this world a secret from all except the employees of Faber Shipping Worldwide, along with those members of the Lawson Peabody whom you feel you can trust to keep it under their bonnets, at least for a while.

All here aboard our little schooner are well and in good spirits and you may inform sundry wives and sweethearts as to that happy fact. Just don't mention me.

Ha-ha.
Again...

Seriously, though, if you would look after my dear friend Mairead McConnaughey, who has been aboard the
Lee
with her husband Ian. She has had some troubles lately and I would like it if she were restored to her former cheerful self. Perhaps Ezra can offer her some gainful employment to take her mind off her recent woes. Break the news of my resurrection to her gently, as the dear girl is of an expressive nature and in her joy is liable to break something.

Uh-oh ... The
George Washington
is pulling in her lines and I must quickly blot this and get it sealed and over to them.

Please give my warmest regards to Mr. Pickering. John Higgins has written separately to him concerning the business dealings of Faber Shipping Worldwide, and I am sure our dear Ezra will be delighted to fill you in on happenings in that regard. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

Do not worry about me, Sister. I have some business to take care of in London—business that concerns my dear Mr. James Emerson Fletcher—and then I am getting back to the States as fast as I can. And I swear I shall never again leave the safety of that part of the world, which has proved so kind to a poor wandering girl.

I so look forward to many more happy days lolling about with you in that hayloft at Dovecote.

Regards to all,
Your friend,

J.

Jacqueline Bouvier
Onboard the
Nancy B. Alsop
Off Gravesend, England

James Emerson Fletcher
9 Brattle Street
London, England

Dearest Jaimy,

Yes, it's me, popping up yet again. Ta da! I know it must be a bit of a shock for you to find that I am still alive and back here in England, but I hope you will rejoice in that knowledge, I really do.

Father Neptune must love me some after all, for he did allow me to survive the awful storm he kicked up back when you and I were last together, there in the Straits of Malacca. You see, Jaimy, when I was swept overboard with the
Lorelei Lee's
fallen foremast and sank down with it, entangled in its rigging, the sail had enough trapped air in its belly to finally pull it back up to the surface with me clinging to it for dear life, my little Ravi clinging to me, as well. As Higgins says, I really must be part cork, as I do have a habit of bobbing back up from various troubles.

Long story short, though cast away and penniless, I resolved to bend all efforts to get back to you, dear boy, and so Ravi and I made our way up to Rangoon and there we fell into some luck. Biggest bit of that luck was meeting up with the
Nancy B.
and her crew—what joy that brought me, I cannot tell you. Will explain more about that later. Suffice it to say, my new plans concern much Oriental treasure and a possible way out of our current difficulties for the both of us. Yes, Jaimy, both you and me. We shall see.

We had a relatively uneventful journey from Rangoon to here, with only a few storms in the Bay of Bengal and some encounters with pirates off the Horn of Africa. The storms pounded us, but we managed to survive them. The pirates tried us, but those brigands came out much the worse for it when they found out, to their dismay, that our teeth were far sharper than theirs, and that we were more than willing to use them.

We made port at the Maldives, then the Seychelles, and still later Cape Town at the southern tip of Africa, and it was there that we found an American merchant ship. The
General Washington
was bound for the States and upon her I posted a quick letter to Amy Trevelyne, and I sure hope she gets it.

As for now, we are lying off Gravesend at the mouth of the Thames, waiting for the turn of the tide to take us up to London. We sailed past Sheerness in the morning, so now we have the land of England all about us. Even though Mother England has scorned me, reviled me, and condemned me, it's still good to see the land of my birth once more. I had vowed, not long ago, to never set foot on her ever again, considering what she has done to me, but England is where you are, Jaimy, so that is where I will go. I am in rather deep disguise, though, so I should be all right.

Evening is falling, so it will be tomorrow before we'll take the
Nancy B.
into the London docks. I hope with all my heart that I will see you then, or at least send this letter on its way to you. But believe me, for all my longing to be in your arms again, I will approach your family's house with great caution. I fear your mother might keep a loaded gun about the house, and if so, I am sure she would not hesitate to drop me in my tracks should she recognize me. I am also sure she greatly rejoiced over the report of my death, thanking the very heavens themselves for my demise, and would not take kindly to see me come back from the dead. But that is not your fault, Jaimy, so don't worry about it.

It has been many months, Jaimy, since I went over the side of my ship to certain doom, and you could have taken up with another girl by now, thinking me dead and gone, and if you have, I will not blame you and will instead wish you and her a long and happy life, but I really hope it will not be so, I really hope that.

Your girl forever, Jaimy...

With all my heart,

J.

"What do you plan, Miss?" asks Higgins, as I sit cross-legged on my bed, mending my black burglar's trousers. The black jersey and watch cap that go with the pants are spread out on the coverlet, as well as other articles of clothing.

We are lying anchored in the Thames and expect to dock in London in the morning.

"I can tell you one thing for sure, Higgins," I answer with firm conviction. "I shall not go blundering blindly into London tomorrow. Each time I have done that, I have paid with the loss of my precious freedom, along with a good deal of my equally precious blood. No, thrice burned, well learned."

Joannie is also on the bed, busily sewing a black pair of pants for herself, as well. She insists on doing it, and hey, maybe she'll come in handy ... for nighttime errands and such. She certainly knows her way around the streets that we will be traveling, that's for sure...

"And as for what I plan? Well, what I will do is this. I will go into the city in deep disguise as soon as we arrive and will therefore be able to get clues to the whereabouts of one Jaimy Fletcher, find the dear boy, and then give him the joyous news of my survival without being snatched up by the authorities yet again. Whereupon we will all get the bloody hell out of Britannia's waters and go back to good old Boston."

I hope the news is received joyfully by the lad and he hasn't already taken up with another girl. The last time I took my eyes off Mr. James Emerson Fletcher for a moment, that Clementine Jukes popped up. And it has been months now since he and I were parted. Hmmm...

"And Mr. Fletcher will agree to this?" asks Higgins.

"He must," I retort. "He is still under sentence of Transportation to the penal colony in Australia, and I am sure he would rather endure a harsh winter or two in Boston than the bleak prospect of seven years of hot and dusty captivity in New South Wales. Especially if I am by his side to keep him very, very warm."

"Ummm," murmurs Higgins, not totally convinced of that.

"Besides, Higgins," I say with a laugh, "he would not be the first sailor I have shanghaied and sent off to sea. If he must be bound and gagged and thrown into the hold of the
Nancy B,
then so be it."

That gets a slight smile out of him. "Ah, yes," he says. "I recall the fate of the unfortunate Mr. Gulliver MacFarland."

"Even so, Friend and Former Husband Higgins."

"Well, I will again counsel you to take care. You would not want to fall back into the Admiralty's hands. You, also, are still under sentence of Transportation to the penal colony, and in your case, it is for life."

"I will be careful, Higgins," I say, and then throw the warning back at him. "And I would urge caution on your part as well."

He raises a questioning eyebrow.

"It's true. You are well known as a friend of mine ... and a member of Naval Intelligence. Ravi, hand me that spool."

"A much changed branch of that service, I am afraid," admits Higgins.

"Too true, too true. All our friends have moved on ... Mr. Peel ... Lord Grenville. And our enemies sit all smug in their place."

We had already learned, by inquiring of small Naval ships on our way in here, that Baron Mulgrave was still First Lord of the Admiralty, which was unfortunate, for he certainly is no friend of ours. And furthermore, he
is
a friend to agents Flashby and Bliffil, a pair who certainly mean me no good, having at various times in the past assaulted me, beaten me, and threatened me with much worse treatment, as well.

"So, Miss," asks Higgins. "How will you go?"

I reach over and take up my HMS
Dolphin
cap, which I had sewn as a ship's boy on that dear ship all those years ago. I cram it down low on my head and look at Higgins from under the brim.

"Why, as young Jack the Sailor, of course," I say, grinning and whipping off a snappy salute.

"Who else will serve as well in this situation?"

We were lucky and got a nice berth for our little ship at Paul's Wharf, portside to and right near Blackfriars Bridge, under which was our kip when we was all members of the Rooster Charlie Gang. As soon as I popped off the
Nancy B.
this morning and headed out into the town, I checked under that same bridge, but again I found only some pathetic gin-soaked drunks.
Ah, well,
I thought.
The Golden Age of the London Gangs of Urchins is over for good, a pity in a way
...But I found out not too much later that I was wrong in that.

When I departed the
Nancy B.,
I had left instructions that Joannie, dressed in her Lawson Peabody School dress, should go to the London Home for Little Wanderers to inform my grandfather and the rest of the staff of my continued existence on this benighted orb. She was also to let them know the whereabouts of Mairead McConnaughey, former Mistress of Girls at the place, and now, it is to be hoped, resident in Boston, USA. John Thomas and Finn McGee, my fine Enforcers of the Faber Will, would accompany Joannie there, not only to protect her but also the three hundred pounds sterling of Chopstick Charlie's money that she was transporting to Reverend Alsop to keep the orphanage going for a bit longer. I, of course, could not visit my dear grandfather, even though I wanted to very much, for fear the place would be watched. I cannot risk being taken again.