"Jacky..."
"Please don't be stern with me, Jaimy. Don't yell at me, even though I've got it coming. I know what I did was mad, stupid even, but it didn't seem crazy or stupid at the time it was happening. Trust me. But all that don't matter now 'cause we have so little time, and I just want to sit here and hold your hand. Do you know how often I so wanted to hold your hand when I was off in America, when I was ... when I—"
I am crying now. I bend over and put my hand over my face and start bawling, my back bucking, my shoulders shaking, and the tears coming out from between my fingers. Oh, Jaimy, I missed you so much!
"Jacky. Please. All is not lost. I have already sent a letter back to London. The best lawyers will be hired to keep you from ... that awful possibility. My family is not without influence. We can hope for the best, with transportation to Australia as a possibility." I snuffle and look up at him as he goes on. He really is the most beautiful boy. "The fact that you are obviously guilty of the crimes that you are charged with will not aid us in our endeavors, but we shall try. You did actually have a Letter of Marque for a time and that will help, as will the fact that you didn't kill anyone."
I nod. Yes, there is always hope. Perhaps in Australia I will see my Kangaroo, after all.
"We have some time. It will be a few days before we are relieved to take you back to London," he says.
"Then come stay with me during this time, Jaimy, as much as you can. And if I am taken back to be hanged, knowing that you did love me all this time will make it easier for me. It will give me great comfort that I did not die unloved. And that is the truth, Jaimy."
We stand for a while in silence, and then we hear the bell toll for noon.
"I must go up on watch now, Jacky, but I will be back," he says. He reaches for something in his pocket. "Put out your hand, Jacky, please."
I do it, and I see that he has my ring, the one I threw at his feet that day at the track. He must have gone back to get it.
Here come the tears again.
"Do you, Jacky Faber, promise never to doubt me again, no matter what?" he says, intently serious, his dark eyes looking deep into mine. He has the ring poised over my shaking finger.
I can only nod. He slides it on, as tears slide down my face.
"Thank you, Jacky. You have made me very happy, once again, knowing that I'm back in your heart ... I ... I..." He gropes for words.
I turn to the Marine who has been watching us. "Private Rodgers, if you'll give us a moment please." I give him my most hopeful and beseeching look, one embellished with teardrops hanging from my eyelashes.
He looks doubtful, knowing full well what his orders are, but it's the tears that get him, I know. He says, "Mr. Fletcher, do you swear you won't pass her anything or do anything wrong?"
"Yes," says Jaimy.
"All right. The count of twenty-five." And he turns his back on us.
I put my face up against the bars and close my eyes.
"Come kiss me, Jaimy, if you love me."
He does, oh yes, he does.
Chapter 49
I am not dead yet, nor am I going to place my fate entirely in the hands of Jaimy's lawyers, nor will I throw myself completely on the mercy of his family's influence. I snort to myself on thinking of the Fletcher family as regards the fate of one Jacky Faber—his father would probably love to see me swing for stealing all that wine from him, and Jaimy's mother? Oh yes, I've no doubt Mother Fletcher, if anything, is helping to build my gallows right now. I can see her with hammer in hand, nails held in her teeth, pounding in the very boards herself.
I continue to study the key and I try to think of ways to duplicate it, since it's plain that I will never be able to get at the key itself. The trouble is, I need metal and metal is what I do not have. My Marines bring me my trays of food but it is the now very careful and respectful Weasel who picks up the dirty dishes afterward, and he always counts the silverware when he does so. I have asked my Marines to let me play my pennywhistle that's in my seabag, and they do it, but they always make sure it goes back in the bag when their watch changes. I don't think I could twist the tin whistle into the proper shape, anyway.
My plan, of course, is to fabricate a key, then ask the Marine to step outside while I use the pot, open the cell door, strip to my drawers, and bolt out the open door of the hold and over the side and swim for the French coast, just like I did that first day on the Wolverine. If it's too far away and I die in the attempt, well, so be it. I'd rather breathe my last and sink forgotten to the bottom of the sea, than be taken back to London and put up on the scaffold to be hanged for the joy of the mob.
I know that's where we are, right off the coast of France, and this time I think I'd make it, 'cause I don't think my Werewolves would pursue me very hotly—'cause I think they still love me some.
The only problem is the damned key.
Today, when Jaimy comes back down to see me after his watch, I am able to control my emotions a bit more than I did yesterday and I take in the news he has to tell.
"Your men from the Emerald are being transferred to other ships in the Fleet. Captain Trumbull thinks their love for you might cause trouble. He knows that you've been in command of both these crews and it would not take much of a spark to put you back in command of all of them again."
"Ah."
"He has said that you might bid them farewell as they go."
I notice now that Jaimy has a small coil of light line in his hand. "That is very kind of him," I say. "Will he put me on my knees again? If so, I won't do it."
"No. He says only that you cannot wear the uniform you were captured in."
I smile. "He can't bring himself to say my 'lieutenant's uniform,' can he?"
"No, but that is the only condition, other than that your hands must be bound. He has heard the account of you jumping overboard and swimming for shore that time."
I nod and stick out my crossed wrists and wait for the rope that will bind them.
"Sheehan, good sailing to you. You, too, O'Hara, Doyle. Good-bye, John Reilly, good-bye, Farrell, Denny, Sean..."
I stand by the railing of the Wolverine as the crew of the Emerald files by me and, one by one, goes over the side into the waiting boats below.
"God be with you, Ryan, Kinsella ... not so glum there, Brian, cheer up. Good-bye, Kelly, Lynch..." Make things light now, heads up, don't let them see you cry.
Then up steps Arthur McBride.
"Now here's one Arthur McBride, off to serve his King. Now ain't that just a sight?" I say, in my bantering way. "Now who do you think got the best of things, you or your friend Ian McConnaughey?"
That gets the old familiar smile flashing again. "Aye, the sod," says Arthur McBride. "Him all snugged up with Mairead and me about to enter the hairy embrace o' some cruel monster of a Bo'sun's Mate on a British Man-o'-War. Life sometimes just ain't fair, is it, Jacky?"
"It is not, but somehow I think you will fare well. Good-bye, Arthur. You always brought me cheer."
He goes and then Padraic stands before me and I lean forward and kiss him on his cheek. "Fair winds, Padraic Delaney, you were the sweetest of all the lads and you were ever so kind to me. I will always think fondly on thee."
He gulps and nods and goes over. Liam is the last one. He stands in front of me looking very big and very glum.
"Didn't we ramble, then, Liam, didn't we ramble?" I say, stepping up close to him.
This brings a bit of a rueful smile to his face. "Aye, that we did, Jacky, that we did."
I figure I can let the tears come now and it doesn't matter what I figure 'cause they're gonna come anyway, and down they do trickle. "Put your arms around me, Father, please."
He takes me in his big embrace and I put my face up next to his and I whisper in his ear, "Liam, tell the others not to despair of me—I have a plan and I'm not dead yet!"
I hear a harrumph behind me and I know it is Captain Trumbull, so I stand back from Liam and say, "Fare thee well, Liam Delaney."
"Fare thee well, Daughter," says Liam, and he goes over the side.
Captain Trumbull has indeed taken Higgins as his steward and for that I am very glad. I don't think he would have fared very well as a common sailor.
That night Jaimy and I sat and talked long into the night and held hands through the bars. I had the opportunity to explain exactly why I did what I did when I did it and I think he understands and is easier in his mind concerning my impetuous nature. I mean, he's got to see that I had reasons. And when it was time for him to go, the Corporal gave us another count of twenty-five.
I think on that fondly and then snap my mind back to the present. We leave in two days for England and trial for me, so that doesn't give me much time. How can I make a key? Come on, girl, your life depends upon it! Think!
Chapter 50
I see a way to the key opening up on the afternoon of my third day of captivity. We are due to leave tomorrow for England and doom, and I am beginning to despair, when George Piggott, of all people, comes down into the hold and stands stiffly in front of the cell.
"Georgie! How good to see you," I exclaim, reaching through the bars to take his hands in mine. "I so wanted to thank you for being my bold defender that day I was taken!" I haul him to me and plant a between-the-bars kiss on his forehead.
Georgie blushes and says, "With the Captain's compliments, will you join him and his officers for dinner this evening in his cabin?"
Come on, think! This might be your chance! Your last chance. Ah! I think I see a way...
"You may tell the Captain, Midshipman Piggott, that I would be delighted, but I will not come unless I am given the chance to bathe and clothe myself in private and not in plain view as I am here!" I say. "You tell him that, and then come back and tell me what he says."
Georgie nods and goes off on his errand. I make myself ready. I have a scrap of ribbon and I tie my hair up on top of my head. Then I wait.
Presently, Georgie comes back and says, "Captain Trumbull's compliments and it will be all right for you to—"
"You heard the Captain's order, Private!" I cry, cutting Georgie off before he can say that the Captain had said it would be all right for me to hose myself off in some scupper or somesuch. "Now release me and let me get my things out of my bag and take me to ... yes, to one of the officers' berths. There will be a washstand and will be private enough for what I need to do." The Marine stands astounded. "Female things, you know," say I, blushing and fluttering my lashes. He blushes even more deeply and takes the key and opens the cell.
The officers' quarters are in the next hold, and I stride out and lead the way, with Georgie and a sputtering Private Rodgers following.
The doors are open to the berths and I look in one and know it is Jaimy's room for I see up there on the wall, next to the bunk, the miniature that I had painted of myself and had sent to Jaimy by way of Davy. Aw, how sweet...
"This will do fine," I say, as I sweep in and close the door behind me. I slosh some water from the pitcher into the basin and run my hand through it to make enough noise for them to hear. Then I start going through Jaimy's chest of drawers. Shirts. Drawers. Letter-writing stuff. Damn! Nothing yet! Handkerchiefs ... Stockings ... and Hah!