She gets to me and sinks down between my knees. Katy hands me my knife.
"You are willing to give your life for your friends? Of your own free will?" I ask.
She nods, sobbing.
"Say it."
"I ... I will give my life for my friends."
"Very well. Bare your breast"
She reaches up with trembling hands and pulls her dress and chemise down over her shoulders. I put the point of the knife on her chest where I know it can slip between two of her ribs and into her heart when I push.
She is shaking with fear and anguish, her mouth pulled down in a grimace that exposes her lower teeth, but she does not pull away. Instead, she puts her hands together and her lips move in prayer.
"Say your last prayer, Elspeth Goodwin, and when you are done and say 'amen,' I shall thrust"
Tears pour from her eyes as she says, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take ... Please, Lord, save my friends ... Ah—Amen."
She closes her eyes and waits for the thrust, finally at peace now, I believe.
I thrust.
But I do not thrust into her heart. No, instead I lift the point of the blade and thrust it up into her hair and cut from it the hated blue ribbon. I lean over and kiss her glistening forehead.
"You have redeemed yourself, Elspeth Goodwin, you have atoned. Now rise up and go and live your life." With that I throw the ribbon of shame into the water.
Gasping, Elspeth rises and her sisters' hands reach out to her to comfort her and to take her back into their loving company.
I look down at my shiv in my hand and at that cock's head carved on it, and as I gaze at it, I'm amazed to see the head, with its red coxcomb, suddenly turn and fix me with its beady eyes. The beak opens and the c*ck says, in Rooster Charlie's very own voice, "I knowed you wasn't gonna do that girl that way, Little Mary. You was always too softhearted for work like that, you know you were."
The blade falls from my hand and clatters to the bottom of the boat.
I think it best that I lie back down.
Chapter 53
Days turn into nights and nights to days and the sun, the sun always beats down, drumming on my forehead and beating on my eyes through my thin closed eyelids. I can't shut it out, I can't, I can't ... I turn my head to get away from the sun and look out over the water and the sun becomes a crazily blurry disk in the sky and I blink and then I blink again, not believin' what I'm seein'. 'Cause when I look below the sun, there on the waves is a boy dressed in ragged white britches and a bright blue vest, climbing up and down the waves as if they were small hillocks in a gentle meadow in England and he waves to me and I ask, "Charlie, is it you?" I see that it is Rooster Charlie, of all people, out walking on the water as if for a stroll down Bride Street in Cheapside, laughing and tossing his red mop of hair to the side like he always did and calling out to me, "Mary, Mary, quite contrary, why can't you button your lip?" and he's got his arm around the shoulder of his great and good friend Hugh the Grand. By God, it's Hughie, yes, it's you, big and bold as life again, and there's Ned, good Ned Barrows, my brother midshipman and bold knight-errant who stood guard outside my doorway on the Wolverine to keep me that night from harm, now grinning and waving his hat at me. "Ahoy, Jacky! Ahoy, Puss-in-Boots!" and what? No ... not Mum and Dad, and Penny, too? Oh, Mum, I missed you so! and her reaching out her hand to me, tears of joy runnin' down her face. And I taste my own tears runnin' into my own mouth right now and Benjy, him of the Dread Brotherhood of the Dolphin, lookin' not a day older than the day he died. Died? Yes, you died, Benjy, you did. I saw it with my own eyes. You've all died, all of you, you've...
Is this it, then? Is ... is this the Heavenly Chorus? Come down, Angel band, come and around me stand, bear me away on your silver wings to my eternal home.
Is this the rush of wings that I hear? Is it...
No, it's not. 'Tis not the whirring of angel wings, no, not of wings, but the flapping of a large, slack sail hanging above me. I come to my senses long enough to realize that I am being put on a pallet, strapped in, and hauled aboard a ship. In the blur, I think I can make out the red, white, and blue of the Union Jack floating from the masthead. I know I am being taken aboard a British warship.
Then I know nothing for what seems a long, long time.
Chapter 54
The first thing I see upon opening my eyes is Annie, faithful Annie, sitting by my side and holding my hand. On the other side, I see the bowed head of Constance Howell. It appears she is praying over me.
I seem to be lying in a small room, maybe an officer's berth, on a large ship. I know it is a ship because I can feel it moving under me. It is a very pleasant room, with a porthole that is open. Its curtain blows gently in the breeze. From the outside I think I hear male voices as well as those of my sisters. All seem happy and are laughing.
I am covered by a sheet, and my arms, which are bare, lie by my sides, on top of the cover. Thank you, God, I think as I look down and see that both of my legs are still there. Then, though I am weak, I find I can lift my hand to place it on Connie's head, and say, "Thank you, Sister."
Her head jerks up. "Praise God!" she cries, and she runs from the room, I suspect to tell the others.
"Oh, Jacky, I'm so glad!" cries Annie, tears in her eyes. "I'll get the doctor!"
While there is no one in the room, I cautiously lift the sheet and look under. Peering from left to right, I see my bandaged leg, then my little puff of maidenhair and then my blue tattoo. Nothing else. No clothes, no drawers, nothing.
Damn!
But maybe they didn't get the word on my being wanted by the Crown, maybe they didn't get my description. Maybe they were off on isolated duty. Maybe...
The ship's surgeon comes to me, lifts the sheet, examines the wound, and pronounces that I shall get well because of the indisputable evidence of "Laudable Pus" and other such disgusting things. I thank him for his kind ministrations and I especially thank him for saving my leg—many a naval surgeon would have just hacked it off upon seeing the mess it was in, but he did not, and I will be forever grateful to him for that.
I now have a string of visitors. Annie, of course, and Sylvie are the first to come to my bedside. As soon as we had hit the civilization of the British ship, the serving girls instantly reverted to their servant status. Sort of. Katy announces that she's quitting the serving trade—I don't belong there and I don't belong in Boston. I'm headin' back West ... jes' to see what I can find...
And then, to my great joy, I see Rebecca come running in, fully recovered ... well, more than fully recovered—she has taken my sailor togs from Clarissa and is making a great pest of herself by climbing all over the ship, taunting her sisters by sayin' she can climb the rigging as well as any old Jacky Faber. Well, we'll see about that.
They all file by and take my hand. There's Dolley, and Rose, and Dorothea, who, of course, has tales of wondrous birds she has spotted from the foretop and won't Mr. Sack- ett be amazed. That he will be, Dorothea, if only to see you back. And Lissette and Helen and Abby and all the rest.
Then it's Clarissa who stands by my bedside to look down at me. She's been into my seabag and has put on my blue dress, the one I modeled after the one Mrs. Roundtree was wearing that time back in Palma. She is powdered and her hair is freshly washed and combed and put up and she looks absolutely magnificent, damn her to hell. I have heard that the ladies of the Lawson Peabody have been invited to dine with the officers this evening. More than one will lose his heart to this one, this evening, count on it. Even Rebecca has a fourteen-year-old middie panting after her.
"You know, Jacky dear," says Clarissa, "I really am glad you are not dead. I did not think I would ever say something like that, but it is true."
She pauses for a while, as if to collect her thoughts, and then says, "It has nothing to do with you, or with what we just went through—however, I have decided to give Angelique back her time."
"You mean you're going to free her?"
"That is what the phrase means," she says, flipping back a perfect curl. "I don't know what I can do about her mother and brother, since they are not directly owned by me, but I will try."
"That is very commendable of you, Clarissa"
"No, it isn't. I only do what pleases me and that does please me. And it does please me that you are not going to die, at least not yet, but..."
She leans over me and smiles and says in a low whisper, such that I can feel her breath on my face, "But you have to know this, Jacky dear ... Back there on the boat? There is a part of me that would really have enjoyed eating your liver."
With that she brings down her perfect lips and plants a kiss on my forehead, then swirls from the room.
She has on my dress, and she looks magnificent in it. There is to be a party, where there will be many beautiful young midshipmen and officers. And I can't go.
Damn!
Petite and delicate Julia Winslow comes in, too, to sit with me a bit. I notice that someone has gotten the blood off her dress, the blood of the sailor whose throat she cut. When she leaves, Elspeth comes in, the last to visit.
She has regained her color, and some of her spirit. The other girls have been very kind to her, and the prospect of once again seeing her beloved Boston and her doting parents has restored her to something like her former self.
"Will you be all right, Elspeth?" I ask, squeezing her hand.
She nods and replies, "Yes. Thank you," and then she goes to join the others getting ready for the party.
I watch her leave and reflect on things. I think of her and I think of Julia. I think of the Dianas, too. I know there will be many accounts about our adventure—tales of fortitude, of suffering, of privation, and of bravery—but also I know there will be other stories, tales left untold, that will be better left in the dark, dank, and now forever silent belly of the Bloodhound.
Part IV
Chapter 55
The HMS Juno was bound for New York and that is where we went, but Captain Rutherford decided to take us on up to Boston, us being frail females and all and very much in need of their protection. There was a bit of business they had to do in New York and then we would be off.
I was afraid that bit of business would be me, but nothing seemed amiss in that regard. The girls were all good and careful in calling me Nancy Alsop, as instructed back on the lifeboat, and so I began to breathe easy.
We docked at Fulton Street Wharf and it was good to see the land again. We were astonished at the size of the city as we were warped in, but we were even more astonished to see Henry Hoffman, on his horse, come riding up the pier. Our Henry Hoffman? Can it be?
It is.
I looked at Sylvie and Sylvie looked at nobody but Henry, who, it was plain, did not know we were on this ship. I thought about it and began to suspect that he was sent down to New York to see if any news of our fate came into this port. He did not look particularly hopeful as he approached the gangway of the Juno as it was put down to the dock. His head was down as he walked up.
Ever the dramatist, I had shooed every one of the girls back from the rail so as to preserve the surprise. Annie and Rebecca had to tightly hold Sylvie back in a side passageway.