"Oi'm a loony? Here's a tub hauler what's a dead man callin' me a loony," I say, crossing my arms on my chest, apparently miffed by this exchange.
"What do y'mean by that?"
"I don't mind you seein' me bum. And me legs and all the rest. After all, you're dead men and dead men don't tell tales, so me rep-u-ta-tion will be spotless."
"And what do you mean by that?"
"Mick, Mick, Mick," I say, sadly shaking my head. "You poor, dumb bloke, you."
I pause, as if genuinely sorry over his impending fate, and then I press on.
"Y'know, Mick, I'm a Cockney, too, and I've always found that us Cheapside types was, by and large, pretty crafty and cunnin'-like. But you, Mick, you're bein' real dumb, you are. Do you really think you're going to be allowed to go back to America where you might snitch on Colonel Bart Simon about the kidnapping of thirty or so girls from the finest families in the United States? You see this little girl here?" Rebecca is by my side and has a big-eyed woebegone look on her face and her hands are raised as if in prayerful supplication. "She's Rebecca Adams, President Adams's granddaughter, for Chris'sake. Pres-i-dent, like, of the U-ni-ted States. Oh, you might have promised not to tell, all solemnlike, but Simon can't trust you not to get drunk sometime and spill the beans and put his neck in a noose, can he now? Nay, after we're all sold and settled and the Captain's got the money, you'll get your pay, you will, and it will be either a bullet in your head or a sword in your belly. And over the side you'll go. Think about what 'appened to Dobbs, now, hey? Aye, the Captain, Mate, Sin-Kay, and Chubbuck will be the only ones livin' through this voyage, that's for sure. And us girls in our harems, of course, eatin' grapes and pomegranates and sweetmeats, and lyin' about in hot, steamin' baths and havin' eunuchs towel us off after our swims."
"That's a load o' malarky," says Mick, sounding a bit worried, nonetheless.
"Malarky? How 'bout this for malarky? You'll notice that only them four coves I just mentioned got weapons? Swords and pistols and such? What've you got? Your little riggin' knives? Ha! It's pathetic, it is. You'll be gathered together and killed like sheep, count on it."
"Huh?"
"And think on this, Mick. The Captain's nasty little fancy boy Sammy'll still be mincin' about up here, whilst poor ol' Mick will be lying dead down below with the crabs snippin' off his willie. Keefe, too." "Snippin' off me wot?"
"Yer willie. You know what I'm talking about ... yer privates, like."
"I told you not to talk to them bitches!" roars Bo'sun Chubbuck, coming up from behind and giving Mick one behind the ear with his club and then delivering another blow to Keefe. There are howls of pain and the hatch comes slamming shut.
Gotta pay for your pleasures, mates. And I know you'll be thinkin of what I said.
Back under the Stage, I meet with Dolley and Clarissa to plot and plan. We all fear discovery now that we've come this far, and we cannot wait to get the cover boards cut and in place. At the same time we do the boards, we'll make a hidey-hole out of the niche where my seabag is stowed, so we'll be able to hide the bows and arrows there, too. We'd be in deep trouble if Sin-Kay or the Captain ever decided to do a real thorough inspection. I guess that sometimes it's best to be thought of as just a bunch of helpless, unresourceful girls.
Right now we've got enough laundry hanging down here to keep anybody who glances under the Stage from seeing anything, but if he looked real close...
"Bag down," comes the call from above. Hooray! Let's eat!
This time we have two more girls join us in the feast. After we're done and are licking fingers, Katy picks up her bow and goes hunting again. This time she has several girls with her, with bows of their own.
A while later, we have gathered six more millers, with hopes for more.
This evening, after a rousing "Laudate Dominum," I resume my story. I'm getting near the end. I'm at the part where Jaimy and I almost come together as man and wife, there on the Wolverine after my capture. Without benefit of clergy, like. I know what's coming, but I tell it, anyway.
"I reached out an arm and pulled in Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher by his collar and closed the door and threw the latch. Jaimy looked at me and I threw my arms around him and we both fell toward the bed and then we were in it and then..."
And then, sure enough, Constance Howell's enraged voice comes at me.
"She's going to do it again! No, no, no! I will not have it, and I will not have one such as her as the leader!"
I sigh and say, "I'm not the leader, Connie, you know that. There are three of us. I'm—"
"How can you stand there and say that you did that without shame?" she asks, outraged at my conduct then, and even more at my willingness to talk about it now.
"You've got to remember, Connie, that at the time, I was almost certainly going to be taken back to England and then, just as surely, hanged. So a little worldly bliss before the big drop, choke, and swing ... Well, you may fault me for it, but I don't."
"I certainly do fault you for it and I want no more of your awful story. There are impressionable young girls here and ... you ... you're nothing but a common tart! You're nothing but a..."
The sound starts somewhere to my left, as a low hmmmmm ... first one girl, then another, then some more off to my right. Then more, and louder. The warning sound fills the Hold of the Bloodhound, thirty throats thrumming, throbbing, and full of menace, directed toward Constance Howell.
She is silenced. I believe she shall have no more comments on me and my ways.
When the hmmmmm dies away, and all is quiet, I start up again.
"'Fill your eyes with me, Jaimy, and then kiss me, and kiss me hard and long, for it may be the last time.'
"He does, oh, yes, he does.
"'Now go, Jaimy.'
"And with one last feverish kiss, he does that, too."
I end it here for the evening. I do believe I hear more than one deep, heartfelt sigh out there in the dark.
Chapter 35
Another day. Flaps up, Sin-Kay down.
We line up, yawning and stretching.
Sin-Kay starts taking the roll, Frazier ... Goodwin ... Hawthorne ... Howe...
Am I imagining it, or does he approach Clarissa's name with a certain dread?
"Heah, Mistah Stinkey!" is all she says, but there is a mischievous light in her eyes.
Sin-Kay moves down the line. Howell ... Johnson ... King...
"Eeny, meeny, miney, moe. Catch a Stinkey by the toe! If he hollers, let him go! Eeny, meeny, miney, moe!" Clarissa bursts out loudly in singsong, gaily bouncing on her toes. I think I hear some snickering out on the deck.
Sin-Kay comes back to face her. "You think that was funny?"
"Yassuh, Mistah Stinkey. I think it's very funny. Now, how funny you gonna think it is when my daddy catches you for what you done? Only he goin' to catch you by the neck, not by the toe, and I don't think he's evah, evah gonna let you go. Nope! Not till you're hangin' there dead, and bugs eat out your eyes."
"It is going to be such a pleasure seeing you up on the block," says Sin-Kay, then sighing softly. He goes on. Leavitt ... de Lise ... Lowell...
He gets to the end of the line, snaps his notebook shut, and leaves the Hold.
But Clarissa is not done with him this day, oh no, not yet.
After we all have had our breakfast burgoo and are handing our spoons and bowls back in, I'm noticing that Clarissa keeps looking up at Barbara Samuelson, who's on port-side aft watch.
"Clarissa!" she says. "He's back on deck!"
"Good. Caroline, come on!"
Uh-oh, I'm thinking. What's going on?
Both Caroline Thwackham and Clarissa Howe race up the stairs to the port-side Balcony and position themselves by the bars.
"You know what I was wonderin', Clarabelle?" asks Clarissa, loudly. Loud enough for anyone on deck to hear.
"What was you wonderin', Annabelle dear?" inquires Caroline, just as loud, back at her. It appears that the two have worked out a skit of sorts.
"I was wondering about our dear Mistah Stinkey..."
I go up on the Balcony and look out and see that Sin-Kay is standing by the rail, his back to us, his hands clasped behind him.
"You were?"
"Yes, I was, Clarabelle," says Clarissa. "I was picturin' him gettin' up in the mornin', jus' before he does his little ol' thing with all us adorin' girls."
"Yes?"
"I was thinkin' how he must get up from his feather bed, from out of the softness of his damask sheets, all refreshed from his night's rest—"
"Havin' been sleepin' the sleep of the just, Annabelle, uh-huh."
"Even so, Clarabelle, I was thinkin' just that. Then I was thinkin' how he must rise up and put on his rare silken undergarments..."
"Uh-huh."
"Then he pulls his fine hose over his legs and then puts on those fine, fine britches"
"Uh-huh, I can see him doin' it," says Caroline, who's turning out to be quite the comic actress here. Best be careful, both of you. I'm beginning to worry about this. You've pushed him enough, Clarissa. Pull back! But she won't...
"Then he puts on a crisp, clean, frilly white shirt with all that Italian lace trimmin'..."
"And then?"
"And then he puts on that fine deep purple coat that all us girls admire so much..."
"And then?"
"And then he puts on his fine French cologne ... a lot of it, splashin' it all around."
"And then?"
"Maybe a little powder here and there..."
"And then?"
"And then he looks in the mirror," says Clarissa, and her voice has grown hard.
I'm keeping my eyes on Sin-Kay's back, and I've been seeing his head sink lower and lower between his bunched shoulders. His neck is swelling over his collar. Don't do this, Clarissa!
"And then?"
"Why, Clarabelle," says Clarissa, "he looks in the mirror and his shoulders slump and then he moans, 'For all my finery, still just a nigra...'"
Oh Lord.
Sin-Kay turns and heads for the hatchway. In a moment he is down the stairs and the key is in the lock of the gate. I fly back down to the Stage, just as he bursts into the Hold. I can see that he is enraged beyond all reason. He spies Clarissa on the stairs to the Balcony, lurches toward her, grabs her by the hair, and drags her squealing to the gate.
He pulls back her head and snarls into her face, "That's it! You're going over the side! You will be dead within minutes!"
With that, he drags her up the stairs, yelling to Hughie, "Get out of the way, you idiot!" and Hughie, terrified, stumbles back out of the hatchway.
"Nettles!" shouts Sin-Kay, as he and his screeching burden go out the upper door. "Lock the gate!"
Nettles starts to swing the gate shut, but I'm on a dead run toward him. The gate is two inches from closing and locking when I hit it with my shoulder, rocking Nettles back against the wall.
"Help me!" I shout, and slam him again with the gate. Katy and Rose and Chrissy are at my side. "Get him again!"
We pull back the gate and smash it against him. And then again. He is stunned, but still he manages to struggle out from behind it. I leap in front of him and lift my knee and get him in the crotch. He coughs and doubles over. That's one for Hughie, you miserable little toad! And here's another!