Rapture of the Deep: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, Soldier, Sailor, Mermaid, Spy (7 page)

As we edge in, taking down more and more canvas till there is none left up, we let the breeze and the tide nestle our stout little schooner into her berth.
Ah, yes, home again, girl...

While we're maneuvering in, I notice a girl with flaxen hair standing on the dock, dressed in the serving-girl gear favored by Mistress Pimm of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls located up there on that hill. When she sees that it is us and that it is Jim Tanner who stands straight and tall at the helm, she falls to her knees and clasps her hands in front of her, her head bowed.
Yes, Clementine,
I say to myself,
once again, your prayers have been answered.
I speculate that she had gotten hold of a telescope and stolen chances each day to climb up onto the widow's walk on the top of the Lawson Peabody to scan the incoming seagoing traffic, and today she was rewarded, and I wish you the joy of it, Sister, I do.

Tink throws over the land lines and a dockhand ties them to the wharf's bollards. We are secure, the
Nancy B.
now a thing of the land and not of the sea. The gangplank is laid across. And no sooner is it done than Clementine hops over the rail and is wrapped around her Jim, and he wrapped around her.

"Clementine! Dear girl!"

"Oh, Jimmy, I'm so glad! So glad!"

"Good to see you, too, Clementine," I say to she who has not spared me so much as a glance. "Ah, well ... Jim Tanner, be off with your girl. We'll get things shipshape around here and we'll come get you when we need you. Keep in touch, now. See you in a few days." Jim throws his seabag over his shoulder, and they are joyously off without a backward glance.

There is a thump of feet upon deck and I turn to see that Davy has come down from the mainmast, where he has been managing the set of the sails for the tricky way in. His sandy hair is neatly braided in a pigtail—hair the color and texture of which is so much like mine that people have sometimes taken us for brother and sister. That and the fact that we bicker like any two members of the same litter of pups.

Well done, Davy,
is what I should say for his expert handling of the sails, but what I do say is, "Not bad, Seaman Jones, though there was a bit of a luff in the jib on the way in. Hope no true and worthy seaman was watching and chanced to see that. I should die of shame were it let out that I would allow something like that to happen on a ship of mine."

He knows I am joking with him, so he grimaces and grunts, "Stoof it, Jack-o."

I realize that he is about to jump out of his skin in his fervent desire to get close, very close, to his new bride, Annie, who he knows is working in the Lawson Peabody build-ing right there up on Beacon Hill.
Right there, by God...

"Now, is that any way to talk to your Captain, Day-vee?" I tease, giving him a poke in the ribs.

Yesterday I had given him some money, 'cause I knew he'd be wanting to take Annie off for a few days' romp in a room at the Pig and Whistle, rather than suffer under her father's stern and sometimes not-very-friendly eye at the Byrneses' family homestead. After all, he is taking the man's daughter to bed, and that doesn't always set easy with a dad.

"Your first pay from Faber Shipping Worldwide. Ain't that grand, now, Davy?" I had said, pressing it into his hand and grinning into his face. "It isn't much, 'cause you're only rated Ordinary here, Davy,
very
Ordinary. But it should serve. Ah, yes, I know that in the Royal Navy you are rated Able, yes, I know ... But here at Faber Shipping, we hold to a much higher standard."

I do love to see his teeth go on edge ...
Ah yes, just like old times.

"All right, the ship is secure and I'm off," says Davy now, preparing to leap over the rail and sprint up Beacon Hill to the school. "Do I have permission to go ashore,
Captain?"
the last word spoken with a bit of a snarl.

"Not just yet, Seaman Jones. You must calm yourself." I simper. "We shall go off and visit the Lawson Peabody together. I have to change, and you will stay right there till I get back," I order, pointing to the deck beneath his feet. "I shan't be long."

I give him a bit of a finger wave and go below into my cabin, where I find Higgins laying out my Lawson Peabody School dress. I am out of my working clothes in a moment and into the uniform black dress.

"What else will you need, Miss?" asks my good Higgins.

"Just my mantilla," I say. "And my red wig."

"What?
" he says, eyebrows up.

"Davy and I are going up to the Lawson Peabody, he to see his wife and me to see my sisters. Will you not join us?"

"No, thank God," says Higgins, reaching into my seabag and pulling out the wig as if it were a large and particularly hideous spider. He shudders as he puts it on my head and fluffs it up. "I must go see Mr. Pickering concerning the disposal of the cargo."

"Ah. Good," I say. "Well, please give Ezra my compliments and tell him that I shall see him later this afternoon. And please inform him and all the crew that we will have dinner at the Pig and Whistle this evening, Faber Shipping's treat."

"I shall convey that message. But how can you wear this thing in public?" he asks, shuddering.

My red wig is undoubtedly one of the more outrageous of the hairpieces I've picked up to hide my shorn locks—short hair on women is a scandal in many parts of the world—and the wig is very high and very long and is decorated with yellow ribbons, and when it is in place, a cascade of ringlets hang by my face.

"It is a joke, Higgins. I mean to have a bit of fun," I say as I wrap the black lace mantilla about my shoulders, ready, should I need it, to veil my face.

"Well, I hope you do, Miss," says Higgins. "Here, you will need your cloak if it grows chilly outside."

"Thank you, Higgins," I say, as he wraps the coat about me and pulls the hood up over my head, completely concealing my fake hair. "And now we must be off."

Regaining the deck, I link my arm in Davy's and say, "Now, my fine young sailor lad, we shall go to see about the Lawson Peabody and all who lie within it."

As we walk through the narrow streets near the docks and then up across the commons, I revel in the old familiar sights and in the delicious cool of the late fall day.

It is not long before we have crossed Beacon Street and are approaching the school. I stop and heave a great sigh while looking at the building, the scene of much grief and, yes, much gladness for me.

Davy, however, is in no mood for such female wistfulness and charges on ahead.

"Wait, Davy," I say, running to catch up with him. "Let's go around back and go in that way."

And so we do,and as I approach the door to the kitchen, I say, "You wait out here, Davy." Then, lifting the latch, I add, "It'll be better that way, you'll see."

I open the door and duck in. Sure enough, there's good old Peggy, working away at the stove. As she turns to look at me, I pull the mantilla from my face and say, "Hello, Peggy," and her eyes grow wide and she drops her ladle and says, "Oh, my good Lord, it's our Jacky!" and comes to enfold me in her warm embrace.

I bury my face in her breast, and the tears come, as I remember all the kindness she has always shown to me, her poor wayward girl, and just then Annie comes down the stairs and into the kitchen, bearing a large empty tray, and I know she has just come down from the dining hall, where dinner is being served to the girls.

Seeing me, she gasps, then says, "Jacky! Can it be you? Is it possible?"

I wipe the tears from my eyes and go over and take the tray from her hands before she drops it, as I know she will when she hears my news. "Yes, it's me, dear Annie, and—"

"Jacky, have you heard anything—"

"I think you had best just go out through that door right now, Sister, and your question will be answered," I say, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of her joy.

Her mouth pops open and her eyes go wide and she says, "You mean..."

I nod and she flies across the room and out the door and then lets out a squeal of pure, absolute joy.

"Davy! Oh, dear God! Davy!"

I go over and pull the door shut. "Sorry, Peg, but I think you're gonna have to do without Annie for a few days, and Clementine, too, I'm afraid, 'cause Faber Shipping's back in town."

Peg laughs. "That's all right, Jacky, we've got lots of girls. Oh, it's just so good to see you, dear! Where have you been and what—"

"I'll fill you in later, Peg, but just now let's fill up this tray and let me carry it up to the little darlings."

While Peg is preparing the platter with some very tasty-looking meat dishes, I shed my cloak and shawl and let the red tresses spill down over my shoulders.

"Well," says Peg, with some disapproval in her appraising eye, "ye don't look like half a tramp, now, do ye?"

I give her a saucy wink, like any true strumpet, pick up the tray, and head up the stairs and out into the hall. I meet two other serving girls coming out of the dining room as I head in, new girls whom I do not know, and who look in wonder at me in all my garish splendor. I give my head a shake so that the ringlets hang more in my face and I gaze about me.

The girls are all seated, as are the teachers at the head table, awaiting the arrival of Mistress Pimm.
And here are all my dear sisters,
I'm thinkin', and startin' to mist up.
Here's Martha and Julia and little Rebecca and Rose and...

...there's Amy...

I blink away the tears and head over to where she is sitting. Unlike the first time I laid eyes on Amy Trevelyne, she now has company at her table—Dorothea and Elspeth and Priscilla, among others—but again she has her nose in a book. Well, we'll soon fix
that.

I see that I am attracting considerable attention. Heads are raised and elbows nudge ribs and pointed glances are cast my way, which is as it should be—I do love being the center of attention.

Dear little Rebecca Adams is seated next to Amy, chattering away, a chattering that stops mid-chat as I approach in all my tacky glory.

She looks up at me, her big eyes round, as I tap her on the shoulder and say, "Well, hain't ye the pretty one, Missy," loud enough for all to hear. "Yes, ye are, but roight now whyn't ye take yer pretty li'l butt outta that there chair so's a real laydie kin sit 'er arse down?"

The room is dead silent as a stunned Rebecca gets out of her seat and I plunk myself down in it.

Amy's nose is now out of the book and staring at what she can see of me 'neath this red mop.

"Allo, Miss," I says, echoing the first conversation we ever had. "Me name is Jacky Faber and I'm new 'ere and perhaps you'll be tellin' me why we gots two spoons 'ere?"

Her mouth drops open in a very un-Amy-like way as I reach up and pull off the wig, revealing my still-short locks and my very foxy grin. "Perhaps you'll be givin' yer old mate a bit of a hug and kiss, then?"

The place explodes with excitement.
It's Jacky! She's back!

I rise and Amy throws her arms around me and I throw mine around her and Rebecca joins in the hug, too, and there are cries of
welcome back!
and
hooray, Jacky!
and...

There is the sound of two sharp raps of a cane on the floor—Mistress Pimm has come into the room. The noise stops. Ramrod straight as always, and no grayer than last I saw her, she casts her eye about till it finally falls on me.

"Take your places, all of you," she says, her voice low, her gaze expressionless, seemingly not surprised by my sudden appearance. The girls shuffle about to again stand behind their chairs. When all is quiet, she continues.

"I see that our wandering child has returned to us, and that is good. I will now ask her to give us the grace. Miss Faber, if you will."

I clasp my hands in front of me and begin. "Thank you, Lord, for this food that we are about to receive and for which we are most grateful," I say, about to sail into my usual glib performance. But this time, as I look out over their faces, I suddenly find I cannot do it.
All my dear sisters
... I try, but I cannot. It's all too much ... too much.

I choke up.

"And th-thank you all for the kind friendship y-you have sh-shown me over the years ... and..."

I bury my face in my hands and sob away. I did not think this would happen, but it did. I thought I was hard, but I am not. I am not...

"Perhaps, Miss Howell," I hear Mistress say, "you will complete the grace, as Miss Faber seems overcome with rather unseemly emotion."

Miss Howell, Connie Howell, the very pious girl who has had very little use for one Jacky Faber in the past, steps up and delivers. "Dear Lord Jesus, thank you for bringing our lost friend back into our midst. It needs must make us think of the parable that You Yourself spoke unto us, that of the Shepherd and his Lost Sheep—how ninety and nine sheep were safe in the fold but how the true shepherd went out looking for the one lost lamb, and when he did find it, he layeth it upon his shoulders, saying to his friends, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost.'" She pauses, and then simply says, "Amen."

I always thought that I could sling scripture around with the best of them, but Connie sure nailed me this time.

"Amen!" chorus the other girls, and all take their seats.

"Thank you, Miss Howell," says Mistress before she herself sits down. "We shall all take our dinner, and after that we shall call upon Miss Faber for a recounting of her recent travels. I fear that scant other, possibly more worthy, instruction shall take place this afternoon, but so be it."

We have our dinner, and when we are done, I stand up and do it, and I lay it on.

"Oh, you my sisters, attend to me,

You who have braved both wild and stormy seas,

and suffered the cruelest of tyrannies.

And you who have suffered durance most vile,

Take a cup and offer it up and listen now

to a happier tale of work, song, and travail,

on a trip down the American Nile..."