"So, Sir, if you would be so good as to be the one to take my body down from the gallows after I am hanged, and if you would treat it with some measure of ... respect when you do what you must do, I would..."
Here I collapsed into helpless tears, my shoulders shaking with chest-wracking sobs. "...oh, God, I would take it most kindly, Sir!" I wail and fall over onto him.
"There, there," he says, not quite knowing what to do with his formerly very competent girl assistant who has suddenly dissolved into a puddle of female distress on his very lap. "I would do that, but I'm sure it won't come to that, surely. Stritch, come here! Take care of this!"
But it was not Stritch. It was the Marine guard Patrick Keene who came in to calm me and I threw myself upon him.
"Oh, Patrick, I am so afraid, so very afraid!"
"Now, Miss, please be still. Please..."
And so it went. Eventually I subsided, wiped off my tears, and we got back to work.
It was not many days after that when I received the call to go to the Captain's cabin to paint his portrait, the Doctor having shown him his own portrait ... and the portfolio and the frontispiece...
DE RERUM
Natura Americana
An Account of the Various Flora and Fauna
encountered and collected on a Journey
Through the Caribbean Sea on Board HMS Dauntless,
in the year 1806, together with appropriate
Illustrations and Comments of a biological nature.
by Dr. Stephen Sebastian, M.D., Cambridge University
Member, The Royal Society
Illustrated by Miss J. M. Faber, Lawson Peabody s.f.y.g.
I lettered those words large on the front page, surrounded by entwined vines and flowers, interspersed with heraldic motifs—shrimps rampant and butterflies guardant with gules—on a field of light blue. I thought it looked right nice, if I may say so. I had Davy take me down to the Sail-maker's berth and there leather was measured, cut, and sewn. The folder, when done, was soft and supple and had inside pockets to hold the illustrations. It was bound with tight twine and it gave me great pleasure to take down all my drawings from the wall, putting them in order, tucking them in the folio, and then later, presenting the whole production to the Doctor.
He said nothing, but only took it and opened it. He drew out the frontispiece, looked at it, and then turned and left the laboratory to go directly to the Captain's cabin. How do I know this? Davy's spies who lurked outside the Captain's open window reported the following exchange:
"Look at this, Hannibal," said the Doctor, displaying the articles on the Captain's table. "They are going to hang someone capable of this? That would be an abomination!"
"Well, Stephen," said the Captain, who was plainly very good friends with his surgeon, "she is facing many serious charges."
"Hell, I'll adopt her or something! Bribe someone, for God's sake!"
"We shall see what we can do, Stephen, when we get to London. Meanwhile..."
It was soon after that that I found myself painting the Captain's portrait.
***
"Your wife will appreciate this very much when you are far away at sea, Sir," I venture, putting a gold touch on the hilt of the sword he holds up next to his chest.
"Ahem. That is true. Er ... But, is it possible that you might do two pictures instead of just one?"
"Of course, Sir. Two it is."
Aye, you dog, I know what you're about—one for your faithful wife and one for your mistress. Men. I swear.
I work and he poses and we are silent for a while when at last he says, "About your ... problem, Miss. I want you to know that I am not without influence in political circles. Although I do not trumpet it about, feeling as I do that a man should be known for his deeds and not his birth, I am a Peer of the Realm and hold a seat in the House of Lords. I shall see what I can do for you."
Time for the waterworks again.
"That is so good of you, Sir," I wail, turning on the tears, something I am very good at.
"Well, ahem, we have grown fond of you in the time we have had you with us, Miss Faber. Now calm yourself, please, and let us continue."
He assumes the pose, clutching his sword and looking nobly off into the distance, and I again wield my brush.
Silence falls between us ... for a while. Then the Captain gives a small, throat-clearing cough and says, "I have heard that you have been enlivening the Officers' Mess on a nightly basis."
Uh-oh ... That last bit of dancing on the tabletop...
"I hope I have not offended you, Sir, or disobeyed your orders."
Simper, simper ... big weepy eyes now...
"No, not at all. And I observed how you managed to whip the seamen up to a state of high hilarity on Sunday afternoon."
On many ships, and I am glad to say that the Dauntless is one of those, the Captain will permit singing and dancing and playing of music by the common sailors on the fo'c'sle after Sunday services. An extra measure of grog is issued and spirits tend to run high. The past two Sabbaths I was given permission to join in with the men, and though I did not drink the rum that was offered me, I did sing and I did dance and I did fiddle away most energetically. I danced the Irish dances with the Irish lads and the Scottish dances with the Scottish laddies and I danced the hornpipe with Davy just like we did back in the old days with Liam Delaney on the fo'c'sle of the Dolphin. I sang and danced and played to the delight of all till the sound of the ship's bell called all to supper and put an end to the festivities. God, how I love a good audience, and how I do love the applause!
"I am an entertainer, Sir," I say. "And perhaps I was too enthusiastic in my performance. If so, I am sorry. I do like to give one hundred percent."
"No, no, my dear, think nothing of it. The men enjoyed it hugely and I like it when their morale is high."
Another silence. Then...
"But I say to myself, Hannibal, why should your officers and your men have all the fun, eh?"
"Sir?"
"I should like you to dine with me on Friday evening..."
Uh-oh.
"...as I am having my officers and midshipmen to dinner."
Ah ... for a moment there I thought I was up for yet another wrestling match with a randy male, and, though the Captain is not an unhandsome man, I am glad to find that he is an honorable one as well.
"It is Mr. Bennett's birthday and we will be only about three days out from England and that is cause for celebration, as well."
For you it is cause to rejoice, Captain, but not for me. While I am very glad to hear you say that you will try to help me when we get to London, I know that you will have to hand me over to the vile Bliffil as soon as we get there, and I feel your efforts, however kind and worthy, will be in vain. Nay, I shall rely upon my own efforts, as it should be. I believe I will be shortly taking yet another swim.
"I should be honored to come to dinner, Sir. And thank you for the kindness you have shown me in so many ways."
That night I bring my knees up to my chest and curl into the ball in which I usually sleep and think fondly of Jaimy.
Dear Jaimy, things are going as well as can be expected. I have found some friends aboard—and can you believe that our brother Davy is one of them? What a wonderful world! And I have made many others, so my future is not quite so bleak as it was a scant few weeks ago. Therefore, do not worry about me.
Good night, Jaimy. I hope you are enjoying many wondrous sights of strange lands and people on your journey across the seas—for, after all, isn't that why we signed on to this seafaring life?
Sleep well, my dear...
Chapter 7
James Emerson Fletcher, Lieutenant
On board HMS Mercury
off the Coast of West Africa
Miss Jacky Faber
Dovecote
Quincy, Massachusetts, USA
Dear Jacky,
I hope this letter finds you well, safe, and happy. I know it is too much to expect
that you are back at the Lawson Peabody School or are safely ensconced at the Trevelyne estate for the fall and winter, as I have learned what idle wishes these might be when I consider your wild and impetuous nature. Still, I can hope.
As for me, I have found the company of my fellow officers on the Mercury most congenial. Captain Blackstone is a good and fair man, and I would look forward to the continuance of this cruise were it not for the fact that it separates me from you.
I continually think back to the last time I saw you, when you suddenly appeared on the deck of the Mercury, and then just as quickly dived off the rail of our ship and disappeared into the turquoise waters of the Caribbean. The soles of your bare feet twinkling under the blue green water was the last glimpse I had of you. Well, maybe not—I did see a slight figure waving from the deck of the little schooner before it sailed out of sight.
We have picked up the convoy of slow, clumsy merchantmen that we are to escort to China. I know it is a duty you would find deadly dull, but still it must be done and I must admit it is good to be back in Royal Navy rig again.
It is rumored that the Mercury might be detached to deliver diplomatic pouches to operatives in Morocco. That will be a pleasant change, I believe.
The boat carrying the mail is about to leave, so I must be brief. Know, Jacky, that you are uppermost in my thoughts, always.
Your Most Obedient & etc.
Jaimy
Chapter 8
During these weeks, I have been given more and more the freedom of the ship, and with both my good Marine guardians and the very covetous Mr. Jared now used to my ways, I often visit with Davy in the foretop. We enjoy talking about the people we both know in London and in Boston—he especially delights in hearing of his new wife Annie's brave actions in helping the girls of the Lawson Peabody gain their freedom from the slaver Bloodhound. The weather is generally pleasant and we spend many happy midday hours there.
"The little schooner that lies just off the horizon," he says one day, "I'm reckonin' those are your friends?" We are sitting cross-legged on the foretop deck and sharing some sausage and other treats that I managed to have my steward nab for me.
"Um," I say, chewing on a particularly tasty bit. "I think so. I hope you haven't said anything to anybody about it."
"No, other than reporting it. Can't not report a sighting, else the lookout'd be whipped."
That's true. Though I have found Captain Hudson to be a decent and fair man, there have been two times in the last weeks when men have been tied to the grating and given a dozen lashes of the cat-o'-nine-tails. Both times for petty theft from the ship's stores. I was glad that I didn't have to witness the punishment as it would have brought back too sharply that time on the Bloodhound when I, myself, was similarly bound, stripped of my shirt, and whipped into senselessness.
"I think the officers believe that it's just a little ship makin' the crossing for its own reasons and stayin' close to us so she could run under the protection of our guns should a pirate threaten her. It's done all the time," says Davy. "So what do you plan?"
"Hand on your tattoo, Davy, and swear you won't breathe a word."
"'Course not," he says. "The Brotherhood forever and the Royal Navy be damned."
I take a breath and say, "What I plan to do is this: I have given my parole to Captain Hudson that I will not try to escape until we sight land. I am hoping everyone's forgotten about that part of my pledge. As soon as we do spot the coast, which I think will be somewhere around Land's End, or Plymouth, or maybe the Isle of Wight, in any case, the moment I hear 'Land, ho!' from the lookout, I will step out of my dress and fly up to the main yard and walk to the end of it. There will be a great hue and cry, but I will say, 'I'd rather die a sailor's death than be hung up like a side of mutton!' And then I will dive off."
"That's all very fine and very dramatic, as suits your show-off nature," says Davy, doubtfully, "but that would be at least a twenty-mile swim, and the water is getting cold."
"Well, I don't plan on swimming all of it. Here, try this bit of beef—it's right off the Captain's table of last night," I say and sit back against the mast. "No, what I will do is dive down and come up at the aft of the ship, under the sheer of the hull where I can't be seen, and climb up on the rudder pintle and sit up there out of sight throughout that day until nightfall, and when we get close enough to the land and I can see the lights in the windows of cottages, then I will swim for it. Those on this ship will not be able to see me and if I can get to the shore, then I will either be picked up by my little schooner, or, failing that, I shall make my way to London, and, if I can get to Cheapside, then no one will be able to catch me there."
"Lot of 'ifs' in that plan, Jack," says Davy, "but I reckon it's as good as any, considerin' your situation." He also leans back against the foremast. "Least we can do is get up an oilskin bag with a blanket and some food in it—maybe some clothes—and tie it on top of the pintle just before you're ready to go. Me and me mates'll take care of that—cover it up with a side-painting work party."
"Thank you, Davy, that would be very good."
"Hey, Annie would never forgive me if I let you get hanged. Not that it'd bother me overmuch, but..."
"You're the best, Davy, and I mean it." I plant a sisterly kiss on his cheek and get up. "But now I must get back to the Doctor, and then I must dress for the Captain's dinner."
I think about what to wear tonight and decide to take a chance. After all, what have I got to lose?
I get out of my serving-girl rig, go to my seabag, and pull out the packet containing my uniform. First to go on is my frilly, white dress shirt, with its lacy cuffs and collar that comes up high under my chin. Around it I wrap the black cravat and tie it at my throat. Next I put on my dark blue skirt—I want to put on the white trousers, but I know I won't get away with that. Best go slow, even though time grows short—then my black boots. Lastly, I take up my splendid lieutenant's jacket, all navy blue with bright gold trim, shove my arms through the sleeves, shrug into it, and button up.
Wig? No, not tonight. I will wear my own short but no longer stubby hair, and one more thing.
I dive into the seabag again and I bring out my silver Trafalgar Medal on its loop of red ribbon and hang it about my neck. That oughta show 'em, by God.
Fluff up the hair, a little color on the cheeks, smooth everything down, and look in the mirror. Smashing, I must say.
There is a tapping on the door and Patrick says, "Miss? They are ready for you."
There is a common gasp as I come into the Captain's cabin in full naval fig—Take that, gentlemen. I am wearing as well my Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls "Look." I may not be a fine lady, but I certainly can act like one when I have to. Thank you, Mistress Pimm.
I hear exclamations of My word! and Extraordinary! and Outrageous!—the last from an outraged Bliffil—but the Captain merely beams at me and gestures to the chair next to him on his left. I do a half bow—a curtsy wouldn't be appropriate, I think—and then take Joseph Jared's proffered arm and am led to my seat. All the men stand at their places. Captain Hudson is at the head, of course, and Mr. Bennett is to his right. Mr. Curtis sits next to me.
The Captain, resplendent in his dark blue uniform with its gold lapels, picks up the glass of wine that is in front of him and says, "Miss Faber, will you give us the King?"
I reach down and pick up my own glass and lift it before me, as do all the others.
"To the health of our good King George—long may he reign—both in victory and someday, it is to be hoped, in peace."
Hear, hear is chorused all along the table and we are seated.
Stewards come in bearing trays of steaming food, and they begin to serve it. It seems that we shall be treated to roast beef and fish.
"You are dressed in quite a remarkable fashion, Miss Faber," says the Captain, as a platter of beef is put before him and then a tray of fish. He takes some from both. "Perhaps you will explain?"
"I was made
Midshipman by Captain Locke on board HMS Dolphin and Acting Lieutenant by Captain Scroggs of the Wolverine," I say. The trays are next presented to me and I take the tongs, but take only the beef—I had quite my fill of fish on the way down the Mississippi, thank you. "And as far as I know, my commission has not been revoked."
"Ha!" barks the Captain. "Well said, well said, indeed! I see also that you wear the Trafalgar Medal. There are many here who envy you that, myself included. I was off in the South Seas at the time, curse the luck. Will you tell us how that came about?"
"I am not the only one here entitled to wear this medal" says I, looking over the rim of my glass at Joseph, who is seated opposite me. "Mr. Jared was there, too, and on the same ship. Perhaps he will tell it."
"Yes, do so, Mr. Jared," says the Captain, tucking into his dinner. "If you would."
Joseph Jared nods and says, "I believe the whole fleet has heard of how the probably demented Captain Scroggs of the Wolverine made Miss Faber an Acting Lieutenant after a skirmish with a French gunboat in which she distinguished herself, and then sent off all of his officers, except her, on a foolish errand for ... his own reasons. He died that very same night of a poor constitution and ... er ... extreme exertions. Miss Faber, being the only commissioned officer aboard, then took command of the ship and commenced to take prizes. Eventually she turned command over to Captain Trumbull, and he left her name on the books as Lieutenant J. M. Faber, and thus she wears the medal. As well as the marks of the battle."
He puts his finger to his right eye and then gestures at me. Without the curls of a wig to tumble over my brow, the spray of light blue powder burns radiating from my right eye is plainly visible—my other tattoo, I like to call it. I notice that several others around the table bear similar marks, proof that they, too, have bent over a cannon to aim and fire and then felt the sharp bite of the backflash.