"Pull it up!" I shout as my feet hit the gangway, the last one on. "Let's get the Hell out of here!"
But Liam is way ahead of me. My foot scarcely hits the deck, when the plank is up, and the sails are dropped and filling. The lines are cast off and we begin to move away from the dock.
Mairead is placed on the main hatch-top where the poor dear recovers consciousness. She raises the back of her hand to her forehead as if in a swoon and says that she had stumbled and then was stunned by the fall and if it hadn't been for that gallant Ian McConnaughey, well, I don't know what...
Our musket men are lined up at the rail, peppering at those townspeople brave enough to come down to the dock for a parting shot at us.
"Quickly, Liam," I say. "I think we have worn out our welcome in this town."
But he ain't listening to me, oh no, for the light of pure rage still burns in his eyes. The newly freed boys make as if to run for their stations but Liam stops them in their tracks. "You men that were taken and caused us this grief!" he roars, "Over to the rail! You, too, McConnaughey! And Padraic! McBride! Especially you!"
They look confused.
"NOW!" Liam shouts, and they can tell he means business for they can see it in his face. They do it. They scramble over each other to line up at the rail.
We have just about cleared the Point and have all sails up and filled and soon will be in open sea when we approach the Guns at Shotley Gate. Some of the men of the town and some of the women, too, have run out on the Point to shake their fists at us, and pointing up at the Guns of Shotley Gate like they're saying, Yer gonna git it now, you rotten Irish scum.
But, of course, the Guns of Shotley Gate are curiously quiet and do not say a thing against us. We can see the door to the bunker being pulled open and the unfortunate Bill and Bob dragged out, holding their heads and, I suspect, moaning. They are kicked down the slope, and do my eyes deceive me, or is that Biddy Grindle, still in her nightshirt, who's doin' the kickin'? I believe it is.
Liam looks up at the townspeople who have gathered on the Point to witness our destruction. Though we are out of musket range, the two sides are clearly visible to each other. Liam now turns back to the wayward young men of his crew, those so newly freed of their shackles. They stand wondering at the rail, awaiting Liam's wrath.
"Face this way and stand at Attention!" he thunders.
They do it.
"Now drop your pants! That's right, both trousers and drawers! Do it now, or by the living God that made me, I'll have each and every one of you sorry sons a bitches keelhauled!"
The pants come down. Most look shamefaced, but that Arthur McBride is not the least bit shy about showing off his equipment, oh no, he isn't. He grins in my direction. Not all that impressive, boyo...
The now completely recovered Mairead is behind me, rolling around the quarterdeck howling with laughter and delight.
Ah, Padraic. I have often wondered if boys who have flaming red hair up top also have ... yep.
"When I say three," he orders, "bend over and touch your toes!
"One ... two ... THREE!"
And they do it.
Liam comes over and places his hand on the back of his son and on the back of Arthur McBride bent over next to him, and bellows out to them on the Point, loud enough for the Lord God above to hear him, "TAKE THAT, YOU EGG-SUCKING ENGLISH DOGS!"
The good men of the town, and yes, some women, too, are astounded to be presented with the sight of ten bare Irish bums pointed their way as a parting salute. And now, above the row of white bottoms and upon a raised hatch cover, are two girls, one with sandy hair and one with red, each with a hand on the other's shoulder, dancing a demented Irish jig.
Chapter 41
We have come full out into the English Channel now, and Liam and I stand on the fantail and watch the plume of smoke that rises over Harwich fade in the distance.
"Makes you feel rather like a Viking, doesn't it, Liam?" I say.
He laughs. "For sure, lass, and for sure we will not be welcome in that town ever again."
"Aye, we'll have to find another port to sell our wares, but we will."
There's a great hustle and bustle about the deck as the guns are manhandled back into their regular places, cleaned, swabbed, and reloaded. Everyone is in great spirits, not only over the rescue but also over the fact they are going home for the winter.
I turn to Liam.
"Liam, will you join me in a victory glass of claret in my cabin as soon as everything is put right? There's something I want to talk to you about."
He nods, looking interested. "Of course. I'll be down in a minute or two."
Mairead is hanging about making eyes at Ian McConnaughey and he back at her from where he's working.
"Mairead," I say, "up into the maintop with you till I say you may come down. As punishment for joining the battle unbidden." I give her a significant look.
She pouts but climbs up into the top.
Liam puts his glass down on the table and Higgins immediately refills it. I have laid out my plan to him and he is thinking hard on it.
"You know she'll just run away again as soon as we get back. She has said she would. You won't be able to hold her, no matter what," I say.
"Moira will kill me if I return without her."
"Moira's gonna kill you, anyway. Me, too."
"My own girl going off, though ... I don't know."
"She'd be under the protection and guidance of my grandfather. He is a vicar, you know, and even though he's a Protestant, she would be better off with him rather than alone as a runaway. In the short time we have known him, I think he's shown himself to be a fine man."
"Aye. And maybe he'd do better with her. God knows I've failed."
I put my hand on his. "Nonsense. She's a fine, brave, high-spirited girl. You ought to be very proud of her."
"Ah, well. If Mairead agrees, I will give my blessing."
I think it would be best for me to talk to Mairead alone. Liam nods, knocks back his glass, and leaves. Higgins goes to call in Mairead. I wait and drum my fingertips on the table.
Presently Mairead comes in, does a mock curtsy, and says, "You called, Mistress?"
"Knock it off, Mairead, and sit down."
She does so and folds her hands on her lap, putting a blank expression on her face. I know, since she just saw her father leaving, that she thinks she's going to get a lecture on being a good girl when she gets back to Ireland, something she has absolutely no intention of being.
That ain't what she's gonna get.
"Mairead. I have a plan. It is, I think, a good plan, and I want you to be part of it."
Now she looks a bit mystified.
"You already know that as a young girl I was an orphan and lived in the streets of London," I continue. "You also know that I have recently made a lot of money."
She nods.
"I have asked my grandfather if he will help me set up a small orphanage in Cheapside, my old neighborhood in London, to help the homeless ones there."
When I had broached this to my grandfather, he went positively radiant with joy. I had known, even though he did not mention it, that he did not entirely approve of the way I was making my living. But now, with this ... Oh, joy! he exulted, and clasped his hands together in an attitude of thankful prayer. He probably had been praying pretty heavily over my somewhat spotted soul for a while now. Well, nothing like giving a man a mission, I say.
"He agreed, wholeheartedly."
Mairead looks up at me confused.
"I want you to help me in this thing, Mairead, I really do," I say and drop to one knee beside her. "I want you to be Mistress of Girls at the London Home for Little Wanderers."
Now her mouth pops open for real.
"Hear me out," I say, pressing my case. "You won't have to go back to the farm and you won't have to marry that Loomis Malloy. You'll never smell peat smoke again. You will have a respectable post and you'll be paid and you'll be able to buy fine clothes and you being so beautiful—oh, yes, you are—you'll be the toast of London! And oh, Mairead, London is such a city, you cannot even imagine—it's the very center of the world!"
"But what about Ian?" she asks, her eyes wide.
"You know damn well that if you go back to Waterford and then back to the farm that your mother ain't gonna let Ian McConnaughey within fifty yards of you. Besides, it ain't like you'll be worlds apart. It'll be a good test of Ian's love ... his constancy, like."
...and I can tell you all about male constancy, I can...
"But, my dad ... what..."
"Your father says he'll agree to let you go, but only if you swear on your sacred honor that you will place yourself under my grandfather's guidance as regards your personal behavior, and I agree with him on this—I know, I know, I sound like a hypocrite—but there are many pretty boys in London and boys lie, oh, yes, they do. I know 'cause I've met a few of 'em. Even good boys lie. I know, I know, I'm sounding like your mother and you hate that, but it's only 'cause I care for you that I'm saying this, and I'll say it once and I'll say it no more as it's your life and you've got to lead it. There. That's it."
She looks at the floor, stunned with the turn of events and the choice she is given.
"You will have a position and respect, and, no, you'll never have to change a diaper again, unless it's for one of your own."
Her head lifts.
"And, Mairead, if later on, if you find that the seafaring life still calls to you, then we'll go a-roving again, me and you. This war can't last forever, and when it's over I plan to set up as an honest merchant, and then we'll sail to the South Seas and China and the Japans, and we'll see Bombay Rats and Cathay Cats and Kangaroos and..."
"And Hottentots, too?" grins Mairead.
"And lots and lots of wild Hottentots!" I say, and the bargain is made.
Chapter 42
We have a War Council, the staff of the London Home for Little Wanderers and me, in my cabin before their departure. Higgins will go with Grandfather and Mairead to find a suitable place and set things up. He has the papers that I have signed granting him power of attorney over my money, which he will give to my lawyer, Mr. Worden. My grandfather is a sweet man, but the sharpers in Cheapside would smell "country rube" all over him and we'd get fleeced right quick. Nobody, however, fleeces Higgins.
"You will go to Cheapside, right around Blackfriars Bridge, and look for a place there. You should be able to find something cheap but clean. Something that can house about forty children. We can expand later, if things go well. I don't want any more than half my stash of money used for this, 'cause we'll need the rest to keep the school running—and I do prefer to think of it as a school, and not a charity house. See if you can find the girl Joannie. She's probably still living with her gang under Blackfriars Bridge. She will know every orphan in the neighborhood and be able to tell you which kids can still be saved. I don't want any bullies in my school, and I want the girls to be educated just like the boys in music, art, arithmetic, science, reading, and writing."
I take a breath. I get so worked up about this.
"Mairead, you will handle the girls and teach them sewing and their early letters. You will make them be good, but I want them treated fairly and with respect—after all, they have managed to survive where many have not. Grandfather, you will be the Schoolmaster and you will handle the boys and teach the older children philosophy. Look about you when you set up. There will be plenty of penniless scholars that can be hired as teachers. Hire them, but let them know there will be no flogging. If a child is bad, give him a warning. If he continues to be bad, throw him out. There will be plenty of others to take his place. Let them all know that."