"So you surmise he was dead before he went into the water?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said. It was then that the physician, a bald and fussy little man, entered the room, muttering, "My, my, what a thing, what a thing..."
"How can we know for sure?" she asked.
"We should look to see if there is water in his lungs," I replied. "That will tell us."
"Oh, that won't be necessary," said the doctor, shaking his head. "This man obviously drowned and this is certainly no place for a lady, Madame, no place..."
Mistress Pimm turned to regard the little man and brought the full force of her steely gaze upon him.
"Open him up," she said, calmly and levelly, and the doctor tut-tutted and fussed, but he did go get his bag of tools, and the autopsy was performed.
There was no water in the corpse's lungs. Mistress Pimm was in attendance the entire time and she viewed the results, with, I believe, some satisfaction.
It has now been several days since the girls' disappearance and the following facts stand:
1. No bodies have yet been found.
2. No demand for ransom has been received.
3. A larger ship was seen in the area on that day. An old, long-since retired sea captain, who spends his lonely days in his room looking out through the window with his telescope at the ships entering and leaving the harbor, reported spying a two-masted ship lying off behind Lovell Island for a short time. Although he could not read her name, he was sure, because of his knowledge of ship configuration and rigging, that the craft did not come into Boston Harbor, either before or after the day of the tragedy, a fact he found rather strange. Strange enough, indeed, that he felt compelled to hobble down to the courthouse to report it.
Taking the preceding facts into account, we could only come to the conclusion that the ship was a slaver and that the girls are being taken to the slave markets, most likely in North Africa, to be sold.
After we convinced the local authorities and the bereaved families of our conclusion, several small, fast cutters were dispatched from Boston to search for the mystery ship, and word was sent down to Virginia to General Howe, father of one of the missing girls, so that search ships can be sent out from there, too. He is a man of great means and can bear the cost of doing so. But it is a very large ocean...
So, there is plenty of room for hope, Sir. For even discounting the other evidence, I cannot believe that Miss Jacky Faber would be capable of drowning on a clear, calm day in smooth waters close to land. I have seen her in action—Sir, I was on the Wolverine on that very day when she jumped overboard and swam for the shore, very nearly making it before she was recaptured. The girl who could swim like that did not drown on a warm day in the calm waters of Massachusetts Bay, I assure you. As for being captured, well, she has been in worse predicaments, and she is a very clever and resourceful girl, as I am sure you know quite well.
I hope I have not been tedious, as I wanted only to lay the facts before you in as plain a manner as I could. I will end with the following: I cannot believe that such a spirit as hers has been quenched, or that her light, a light that has shone so brightly, has been so cruelly snuffed.
I will wait for further developments before informing the Reverend Alsop and Jacky's other friends at the Home, as I do not want to cause them needless distress just yet.
Wishing that this letter brought you better news, and trusting that you know we are doing all we can from here, I am your most obedient servant,
John Higgins
Chapter 24
The next morning, we are ready. Everyone is up and in their dresses and crouched at even intervals all around the Balcony, holding their cups and facing the lowered flaps. When the first one is lifted, I clap three times and...
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
"Wot the hell?" The outburst startles some of the men so much that they drop the flaps back down, but they recover and the shutters are raised and we continue our assault on their ears.
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
We are relentless. Over and over we chant it. We hit the bars with our cups on more, better, and flaps and it sets up a nice rhythm and a grand clatter. Looking out across the deck, we see the Captain burst out of his cabin, followed quickly by a yawning Nettles. A few of the men we can see out there act puzzled, but most are amused—they know what's good for them, however, so they look away and hide their faces from their captain's anger.
"Sin-Kay! Get up here!" bellows the Captain, and Sin-Kay comes up through the forward hatch, smoothing his deep purple jacket. Immediately upon gaining the deck, Sin-Kay is buttonholed by the Captain, who is pointing at us there pounding and chanting at the bars. We cannot hear the Captain's earnest words, but we can imagine what they are.
Sin-Kay makes mollifying gestures, like he'll take care of everything. Don't worry, just wait, they are only hysterical females, they will tire, you will see...
The Captain turns from him abruptly and goes up on his quarterdeck, crosses his arms, and glares at the set of the sails. Sin-Kay, with murder in his eyes, heads for us.
He comes down the hatchway, just as Hughie is bringing down the pot of burgoo.
"I do not know what you hope to accomplish with this, but..."
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
"...but you cannot possibly win. And when I find out who's behind this," and here he glares at Clarissa, "it will go very hard for them."
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
"Pah!" He spits. "I have had enough of this! You shall break, depend upon it!" He goes back out, leaving a confused Hughie holding his ladle over his steaming pot, not knowing what to do. Seeing that Nettles is not with him, I jump down from the Balcony and go to the hatchway. I reach in through the bars and run my hand through Hughie's tousled hair.
"No food yet, Hughie, but we'll be all right, you'll see," I say, 'cause he looks worried. It's been thirty-six hours now since food has crossed our lips.
"Gotta eat, Mary," he mumbles. He dips his ladle in the burgoo and fills a bowl and goes to pass it to me.
"Not yet, Hughie," I say, backing away from the steaming bowl of the now delicious-looking gruel. The girls have come to the end of another cycle of chants, and I say, just loud enough for them to hear and no one else, "All of you are doing just fine. Division One, down for water. Divisions Two and Three, back at 'em." Clap, clap, clap.
As the other two divisions swing back into it, Clarissa and her Division One climb down off the Balcony and have their water cups filled. After they have refreshed themselves, the other divisions will be called down in turn, and the first division will go back up. That way we'll always have at least twenty girls up at the bars at all times, chanting, with one division resting—we don't want anyone's voice to give out.
Clarissa comes over to confer, her nose in her cup. As the water hits her belly, it gives off a threatening growl, demanding more than mere water.
"After they've all drunk their water, we'll go to the second phase of the Plan, all right?"
She grunts in reply. "Right. Do you think they'll hold?"
"They're all right so far. We can only wait and see," I say, and then go back up to my division. A peek out shows that the Captain still stands glowering on his quarterdeck. I slam my cup extra hard against the iron bars and join in the chant.
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
When we're done with the last five chant repetitions, I hold up my hand and all fall silent. I count to six, then drop my arm. The girls take a common deep breath and Phase Two begins:
Ninety-nine bottles of wine on the wall,
Ninety-nine bottles of wine!
Take one down
And pass it around,
Ninety-eight bottles of wine on the wall!
Ninety-eight bottles of wine on the wall...
And so on and so on, in the classic drive-your-parents-mad ditty. We keep it going, pausing every ten bottles to do five of the regular chant, and then back to those never-ending bottles of wine. The Captain is now pacing back and forth on the deck, right out in front of us. As we get down to fifty bottles of wine, he rushes the cage and kicks at a hand clutching a bar. Minerva barely gets her fingers back in time. He goes back to the quarterdeck, mumbling curses under his breath. His pacing grows more and more agitated as we work our way down through the numbers.
Finally we get to the end.
One bottle of wine on the wall,
One bottle of wine!
Take one down
And pass it around,
No bottles of wine on the wall!
There is a ringing silence.
I count to six, raise my hand, then bring it down. Another common deep breath is taken and...
Ninety-nine bottles of wine on the wall,
Ninety-nine bottles of wine...
That cuts it. The Captain is off the quarterdeck, bellowing, "Chubbuck! Dunphy! To me!" and he charges to the hatchway and plunges down the stairs, followed quickly by his henchmen. Hughie, scared, shrinks back against the wall.
"Open this goddamn door!" he roars, and Sin-Kay, who has heard the commotion and come down as well into the now quite crowded hatchway, pulls out his key and opens the cage door. The enraged Captain Blodgett strides to the center of the Stage.
"All of you, get down here!" he shouts up at us. Nobody moves.
I think of doing the three claps to get them started again, but don't. Let's see what he has to say first, I'm thinking. I catch Clarissa's attention, across from me, on the other Balcony, and nudge Sylvie, beside me. Sylvie looks at me, I nod, and she leads the way. And so we all follow her down to the Stage. Clarissa elbows Cloris and they all follow her.
When we are all assembled on the Stage, we are addressed by the seething Captain.
"Who put you up to this? Who's your leader?" he spits out. "Who? Tell me now, or it will go hard for you."
Silence.
"Captain, it is probably the blon—," says Sin-Kay from the Captain's side.
"Mister Sin-Kay, when I want your damned advice, I'll ask for it. Now take yourself and your Dummy and get back to your cabin! Now!"
Sin-Kay jerks as if slapped. "I must protest," he says, furious at this turn. "I was under the impression that I was in charge of the cargo and I—"
"And you have been doing a damn poor job of it! I will remind you that I am the Captain of this ship and in charge of everything and everyone in it! Now get the hell out of here and take your Dummy with you!"
Sin-Kay holds the Captain's eyes for a moment and then turns abruptly away and goes up the gangway, cuffing Hughie behind the head to show him he is to follow. Hughie looks back at me in confusion and fear as he follows his master out.
After they are gone, the Captain forces himself to take several deep breaths before going on. His fury abates a bit, and a look of sly cunning comes over his face. "It could go very, very well for the one of you who tells me. Very well, indeed."
He goes over and stands before Constance. "How about you? You will tell me, won't you?" Connie shakes her head and the Captain whips out his knife. He grabs her by the neck and puts the point of the knife against her throat. "Tell me or I'll kill you."