Under the Jolly Roger: Being an Account of the Further Nautical Adventures of Jacky Faber (38 page)

"Thank you, gentlemen," says Higgins. "Now I believe it would be best if you left us alone." Liam and Reilly nod grimly and leave, closing the door behind them.

Higgins goes around behind me and I feel him pulling off my boots. Then he unloosens my sword belt and slips that off.

"Excuse me, Miss," he says as he reaches in under my belly and undoes the buttons of my pants and then the drawstring of my drawers. Then I feel both pants and drawers tugged down off of me.

"How bad does it look, Higgins? I hardly felt anything."

"We'll see, Miss. Here, let me put this pillow under your middle ... there, that's it. Now, let's look."

Putting the pillow under my hips puts my bum up in the air, but I suppose that's what he wants, so as to get a clear shot at the problem. I wait. Then I feel a hot wet cloth cleaning off the area under scrutiny.

"Hmmm...," he says. "It is a splinter, but the end of it is visible, which is good, as we won't have to go digging for it, if it comes out all in a piece. One moment..."

I hear him rummaging through the medical kit for what I know will be pliers, and then he comes back.

"Steady now," and I feel the cold pliers against my cheek. "It would be better if you don't clench your buttocks when I do this, and now..."

"
Yeeeoowww!
"

I had intended not to cry out as an example to my crew as to my bravery, but I did anyway. Higgins carefully puts the withdrawn splinter on the table next to my nose. It is about two inches long and sits there glistening wetly.

"It seems to be relatively smooth and free of burrs. I think it all came out in a piece."

"Good
Emerald
oak," I manage to say.

"Indeed," he says, drily. "I am sure you will have it mounted on a bronze plaque, given your usual sense of the dramatic." I think about the joke I made about splinters last night down in Reilly's cabin. Strange how things always come back at me.

"The wound is deep, but not wide," he continues. "I think it will heal up quite nicely. The bleeding has already stopped. I don't think there will even be a scar, so when you present yourself to your husband on your bridal bed, I am sure he will not even notice." His tone is joking, but I know he's just trying to put me at my ease—he's worried about infection, as am I. I've heard of people who've died of a mere blister on their heel.

"Dammit, Higgins, I told you there ain't gonna be no bridal bed and no ... oh, the hell with it. Get the spirits of wine ... right there in the brown bottle. Pour it on." I grit my teeth again.

"I suppose that is good, Miss. Then you won't have to explain to him about that tattoo."

"
EEEEEEEeeee...
" I keen as the pure alcohol hits. I don't know for sure that it helps keep off the infection, but I hold that if it hurts, it's got to be good. It's the Puritan in me. Higgins takes a cloth and is cleaning up the mess of blood and water and spirits when there's a knock on the door.

"Jacky," comes Liam's voice from outside. "Are you all right? We've got a situation here."

"Not yet, Captain," pleads Higgins. "Please, we've got to get a bandage on this first."

"No, Higgins, we've got to take care of business first. Just throw something over me and open the door." I can tell from the feel of the ship that we haven't cast off the prize and gotten under way yet, and that puts us in a precarious position. We ain't the only privateers about—there's French and Dutch and even Danish ones, too—and it would be a shame to lose both our prize and ourselves by being surprised in a weak condition like this.

When I feel the cool sheet float over my backside, I call out, "Come in, Liam."

The door swings open and Liam enters, followed by Padraic and Arthur holding the French passenger between them. I get up on my elbows.

Upon seeing me stretched out on the table with my legs spread out and my bum in the air, Liam reddens and says, "Put him in the chair and then get out, both of you."

The boys push the man down into the chair at the head of the table and then leave. As they go Padraic looks at my face with great concern, and Arthur looks at the rest of me with great merriment, as if he can barely keep from making a fine joke concerning my current state.
I'll get you, Arthur,
my glare tells him.

"What's this, then?" I ask.

"This is what it is," says Liam. "We found these on him."

Liam opens a leather bag and pours its contents out onto the tabletop in front of me and I gasp and gape in wonder.
Are those rubies, diamonds? And can that big one be an emerald?
I look up at Higgins who is himself looking down at the pile of glittering stones. "A king's ransom, Miss," he murmurs.

The French gentleman, for gentleman he plainly is, sits straight in his chair, but there is a look of utter defeat on his face.

"No other things on him? Nothing that looks like spy stuff?"

Liam shakes his head.

The man looks up, surprised. "I am not a spy," he says in English, looking offended at the notion. Then he looks back down.
Ah. That will make things easier.

"How came you by these baubles?" I ask, carelessly running my finger through the pile. "I am sure you will tell me they are nothing but glass."

"No, they are not. They are very valuable. For a long time, I felt desirous of leaving my native land and so I cashed in all my assets into this form. I am, or I was, before the Glorious Revolution, the Marquis de Mont Blanc. I had sent my family to England while I remained behind to settle our accounts. And now I have lost everything."

"Why did you wish to leave?" I ask.

"I do not like the present government of my country. My family was aristocratic and we lost many of our members to the guillotine ... to the mob. We haven't forgotten. And with Bonaparte's latest outrages ... we had to go."

"And where were you going? Surely you wouldn't stay in Britain?"

"No. Only to book passage. Then on to America to make a new life."

It strikes me then that I, so lately a girl of the streets, a mere beggar, really, could right now bring down this man and his whole family, they who have been parading around as high-and-mighty lords and ladies for a thousand years or so, and bring them down, right down to the ground. It is a mighty temptation.

But I sigh and say, "You have great good luck, Monsieur de Mont Blanc. We are honest privateers and take only the cargoes and ships of enemy countries. We do not rob passengers or crew of their personal belongings. You may gather up your jewels and return in the lifeboat to France. Good luck to you and your family."

I see Liam stiffen at this.
Steady, Liam, and see how this plays out. I know how you feel about aristocrats and such, but maybe we can have our cake and eat it, too. Maybe we can hold to our honorable vow, and yet prosper...
I don't take my eyes off the Marquis de Mont Blanc.

He looks at his hands. "There is a problem with that. Were I to go back now, I would not be received ... well, with kindness."

Ah, I thinks. It's either me or the guillotine, eh, Monsieur? And what kind of choice is that?

I smile and say, "You would book passage with us, then? Ah, well ... Higgins ... please ... hand me my shiv." Higgins's hand, bearing my knife, appears in my vision. The Marquis stiffens when he sees me take it,
but, don't worry, Sir, the blade is not for you.

I use the knife to separate the jewels into two equal piles. Then I make sure that there are equal amounts of rubies, diamonds, and emeralds on each side. I hum a little tune as I do this. Could it be "La Marseillaise" I'm humming?
Allons enfants de la patrie-eeeeeeee ...
I don't know ... The biggest emerald of the lot I do not include in either pile—that I put separate, close to my chin. I point with my shiv to the pile on the left.

"You shall keep those jewels, Monsieur, and I wish you and your family the joy of them. There is surely enough there to get you a fresh start in America. Your sort always rises back to the top, anyway, eh?"

He doesn't say anything.

"And this pile here," I say, gesturing to the jewels on the right, "will pay for your passage. We will get you safely to Harwich and we will provide you an escort to take you to the bosom of your family. Your escort will be strong and well-armed, I assure you—there are many thieves abroad in this world, Monsieur, as I am sure you know."

He looks at me steadily. "That is surely the most expensive fare ever paid for crossing the Channel," he finally says, but he doesn't look quite so hopeless now.

"That may be so, but I believe it is your best option. Besides, it is not only a fare you are getting, but also our kind protection. And if you decide to go to Boston in America, I can even give you a letter of introduction to le Comte de Lise, a very high-placed Frenchman there. I went to school with his darling daughter. It will give you a leg up in Society."

I wait a bit for him to juggle the odds and then I say, "Agreed?"

He gives a shrug and says, simply, "
Oui.
"

"Good. Then, as my honored passenger, you shall join me for dinner tonight, and you will find that I set a fine table," I say, bestowing on him my best grin. "But, wait ... there is one more thing..."

His eyelids droop and he looks warily at me, waiting for the ax to drop. I continue.

"The ship you hired to spirit you away from France did fire on me and did hurt me sorely. For my pain and suffering I will take this emerald for myself and my poor bottom ... or how would you have it?...
mon derrière faible?
Till this evening then, Monsieur, I bid you
adieu.
"

Three days later and we are back in Harwich with our hard-won prize.

"You went to school with the daughter of a French count?"

"Try not to seem so surprised, Higgins. Am I really all that crude that you cannot believe that I went to any school at all?" He's got my head down in a basin washing my hair and so has me at a disadvantage, as I have to be careful not to snort in any of the suds. We are back once again in Harwich, so as to sell the prize and get Monsieur de Mont Blanc off.

"No, Miss, you are the very soul of elegance and refinement and I am sorry, as I did not mean to offend."

"
Hmmph.
I bet you didn't." I sniff. "Well, yes, actually, I did. It was the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls in Boston. Not much of what they tried to teach me took, but some did. Would you like to hear of my adventures in America?"

"Yes, I would, actually. I had wondered about it but did not intend to pry."

"All right, then. I will tell you of it at dinner, but only if you sit down and eat with me this once, as it's a long story."

***

We had hired out horses and got Monsieur de Mont Blanc delivered to his family all safe and sound, if a bit lighter in the purse. He is not going to Boston but instead to New Orleans, where they've got a bunch of French people, which is just as well, as my letter of introduction to Lissette's folks would have gotten him tossed right out into the street.
What? A letter from the des-pis-ed Jac-Kee Fay-Bear! Non!
Now, Mademoiselle Claudelle de Bourbon
does
live in New Orleans, but I really don't think that she and the Marquis would travel in quite the same circles ... Never can tell, though—not with men, you can't.

The Marquis turned out to be good company after all, and we had a merry time at our dinners. He had a good baritone singing voice and I learned two good French songs from him—"
Plaisir d'Amour
" and "
Jolie Blonde
"—lovely songs, and I'm sure they'll come in handy someday. The man was not cheerful over his loss, but now he didn't have to worry about running the blockade anymore, and I'm sure that put his mind at ease.

We came back into Harwich port with our second prize in tow, and again we sailed under the grim and threatening guns of Shotley Gate. The first time we came into this port, Liam had looked up at the guns and said, "I'd hate to try to get out of this harbor without their permission," and left it at that. This time Liam gave me some sobering instruction in gunnery. He gazes at them looming above us as he says, "They are forty-two-pound carronades—cannons designed to crush at short range, and short range they got. The channel is only about one hundred yards wide here and a ship has no choice but to go right by these brutes at point-blank range. Their gunners would not even have to aim the guns—just wait till the ship pulled into their sights and
wham!
There goes your bow, then the second gun caves in your midsection, and the first one after being reloaded gets your after section—that's if you're still afloat, which would be very doubtful."

I look at the bunker and have to agree. We couldn't even shoot at the gun crews with muskets because the guns are housed in a big stone building with only the muzzles sticking out.

It is something to remember.

Higgins got to work and had the prize, the
St. Moritz,
and her cargo sold right quick—I swear the merchants were standing on the Point when we entered the harbor, just rubbing their hands in anticipation of profit—and after that was done and the money was in hand, we held an accounting with the men. I had decided, and Liam had agreed, that we should go back to Waterford to repair our ship and to let the men see their families and spend their money. At least in Waterford we could tie up at the quay and not have to take boats back and forth from our dear old
Emerald.

We called them to gather about the quarterdeck and they knew what we were about, make no mistake about that, and their high spirits could scarcely be contained. I may have to have that Arthur McBride flogged at some time. It was too much to hope that this crew would line up in ranks like a disciplined King's ship, but Liam and Reilly managed to get them in some sort of order and settled down. Higgins sat at a table set at the foot of the mainmast and fussed with a ledger in front of him as he got ready to read from it. I, being in port and being good as regards my attire, am dressed in my riding habit with skirt, and I stood behind him.