After being spit back into Buzzards Bay, I regained control and put in to shore to wait for the tide to turn, hoping no other sailor saw me sent all a-hoo like that. would hurt my nautical pride, it would.
The tide did turn and I went through the Eye again and, this time, slipped right into the charming little port of woods Hole. It has a perfectly protected inner harbor called, I found out later, Eel Pond, which didn't sound too cozy, but what the hell, I didn't see any slimy eels trying to climb aboard, so I pulled next to a likely looking dock and ... Aha! If that ain't a right jolly tavern right there, then my name ain't Jacky Faber, Singing and Dancing Toast of Two Continents. Three, if you count the time in Algiers last summer, on the tabletop in that hashish den, with my emerald—the jewel, not the ship—stuck in my belly button and ... well, never mind.
After I scouted the little town and satisfied myself that there were none of those wanted posters around, I marched into the tavern and pronounced to the landlord that I was the renowned musician and singer Nancy Alsop and that if he was lucky enough to have me perform in his establishment for one, maybe two nights, I would do these sets in return for lodging, a bath, and whatever tips I might earn from the crowd. He, of course, would gain from the selling of his beers, wines, and whiskies to the increased crowds. when he looked doubtful, I pulled the newly christened Lady Gay from under my arm, put her under my chin, and whipped off a bit of "The Queen of the County Down," sang a verse, and ended with a rattle of my hooves on the floor.
Entertainment of any kind, good or bad, is rare in these small towns, and I am hired, in spite of my youth and gender.
As my bath was being prepared, I wandered through the town, playing on my concertina and announcing that I would be playing at Landlord Prosser's that evening and that all should attend for a night of good fun and entertainment. It did not take long to make a circuit of the village, but I thought that would be enough to get the word out.
It was. We had a good crowd the first night, and a full house the second. Got men, young and old, and women, and yes, kids, too. Entertainment is hard to find and cruel winter's coming on.
Being that Cape Cod was a seafaring place, I kept my act generally turned in that direction, with merry songs of the sea like "The Kangaroo"—"a China Rat and a Bengal Cat and a Bombay Cockatoo, all on board the Kangaroo." And sad songs like "The Lowland Sea"—"and he crossed his hands upon his breast and he sank to the bottom of the lowland, lowland, lowland sea..."
Of course, "Cape Cod Girls" goes over real big here—"Cape Cod girls ain't got no combs, they combs their hair with codfish bones, boys..."
I sprinkled the act with Irish and Scottish tunes, too, 'cause that's where a lot of these people come from originallike, and I go back and forth from fiddle to concertina to pennywhistle, peppering all with dancing. And I end off, as I always do, with "The Parting Glass"—"Good night and Joy to you all"—and I always think of Gully MacFarland, him who taught it to me.
Course there were a couple, well, maybe more than a couple, of the local youngbloods who would like to get to know me better, but I put them off, saying they should pay attention to their local girls as I am sure they are much worthier than I, and not to think that I have any great worth for merely being a stranger. And besides, while you boys are so very pretty, and so very charming, I am promised to another.
Back in my room, with some more jingle in my purse, I prepared for bed. First, I tapped the little wood wedges I carry with me under the door so it could not be swung inward. Then I took off my clothes and crawled into bed and I must admit that the bed did feel awfully good. Although my bunk on my dear Star is much loved, it does sometimes tend to be a bit damp, and this bed is not. I burrow in, knees to chest.
Good night, Jaimy. Your girl is off again in the morning.
Star log, Nov. 28. 07:30. Under way on Course 053. Winds from southeast, 10 knots. Seas 2 to 4 feet. Weather clear. Fine day. 09:35 altered Course to 045.12:12 altered Course, 033. Heading for Poponesset Bay. 13:50 sighted town of Mashpee. 16:45 moored alongside pier in Mashpee.
Star log, Nov. 29. 07:30. Under way on Course 047. Winds fair, but chill. Hope to make Yarmouth.
Mashpee was good. Another ten dollars. But I've got to get going. winter is setting in.
16:30. Made Yarmouth. Moored. Bigger town than the others. No WANTED posters. Play at Bull and Moose tonight. Looks to be a rowdy place. Must be careful here. Self notes that while Landlady Willendorfer seems upright and kind, Landlord Willendorfer has a roving eye, it roving mostly over me. When Mrs. Willendorfer is not watching, Mr. Willendorfer makes his interest plain to me.
The night's show went well, and I made a neat twelve dollars and left the stage to great applause. Dressed, as always in these shows, in my serving-girl gear to set the crowd's mind at ease as to who and what I was, I did my usual set and added to it two new songs that I learned from the fiddler on the Enterprise. One was "Billy Broke Locks," about a jail-break, which I could certainly warm to, having been behind bars more than a few times myself, and "Three Jolly Coachmen," a slightly bawdy little piece that I used to get the crowd roused up and singing along. If you can get the audience to do half the work by singing the chorus, why, all the better, I say, and this song has a lot of repeated lines that make it just right for such a thing. I started out the song on my own...
Three Jolly Coachmen sat in an English Tavern,
Three Jolly Coachmen sat in an English Tavern,
And they decided,
And they decided,
And they decided ...
To have another flagon!
By the second line, the crowd, seated at tables grouped around me on three sides, got the idea and they would come in and repeat the first line once and the third line twice. Next there would be a slight pause, and I would come in at the last line, the hook, as we performers call it. Then on to the next verse, which also serves as the chorus...
Landlord, fill the Flowing Bowl until it doth run over,
Landlord, fill the Flowing Bowl until it doth run over,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be,
For tonight 'tis merry I'll be ...
Tomorrow I'll be sober!
That gets a laugh, as does the next verse...
Here's to the man who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober,
Here's to the man who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober.
He falls as the leaves do fall,
He falls as the leaves do fall,
He falls as the leaves do fall...
He'll die before October!
Back to the chorus again, and with each verse, I draw out the pause longer and longer before the last line for the best comic effect. Now to the maid who steals a kiss...
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and runs to tell her mother,
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and runs to tell her mother,
She's a foolish, foolish lass,
She's a foolish, foolish lass,
She's a foolish, foolish lass...
For she'll not get another!
There are cries of "Hear! Hear!" from the younger men, who look across to meet the eyes of the young women seated with their parents, and then it's on to the last verse...
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and stays to have another,
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and stays to have another,
She's a boon to all mankind,
She's a boon to all mankind,
She's a boon to all mankind...
And here I let the pause go on seemingly forever, till at last I put aside my concertina, puff out my belly and grab it with both hands, and sing out the last line...
...For soon she'll be a mother!
There are roars of laughter and admonishing fingers waved in the faces of young women by the fathers and mothers of same. From the hot glances I see cast around the room twixt the young men and young women, however, I don't think their warnings are gonna do much good in the end.
One more chorus, which fairly shakes the rafters, a restatement of the melody on the fiddle, a bit of a dance, a bow, and off.
As always, when I'm between sets in these taverns, I don the apron and help serve the crowd. They are getting more customers because of me being there, and the landladies are glad of the help and it puts them on my side. Plus, I get some more tips that way. All I have to do is dodge the more rascally hands and all is well.
Because the crowd was jolly and the money good, I had planned to do another night, in spite of my desire to get to Boston as quickly as possible, but events of that evening changed my mind on that.
For when I got back to my room, I noticed that the door opened out into the hall, so I couldn't put my wedges under to secure it. There was a crude lock and I was given a key, so I chided myself for being overly concerned about the door—Hey, this is a respectable house, you big baby—and prepared for bed. Soon I'm in my nightshirt and under the covers, and after knocking off a quick prayer for the safety of those friends of mine who might still be alive and the salvation of those who ain't, I curl up and drift off to sleep, thinking amorous and, by the standards of almost any religion that I know of, highly impure thoughts of Jaimy.
In the past I have noticed that when I am suddenly startled, I feel the muscles above my ears tighten, and I have always felt that that was the animal in me trying to prick up its ears ... and it was happening now and it brought me quickly up out of sleep. Was that the lock rattling? I turned over on my back and my eyes popped open just as a hand came across my mouth and I saw the landlord leaning over me, clad only in nightshirt and cap.
"Shush, shush, now dearie. We're just going to have a little fun," he said. "Shush, now..."
I figured he was aiming to get a little more entertainment out of his entertainer, but I also reckoned he wasn't gonna get it. I jerked my head to the side just enough to get my mouth clear of his hand and then bit down hard on the finger I felt on my cheek. He cried out in pain and jerked his hand from my jaws, and I screeched out, "Help, help, help!" And anyone who has ever heard me bellow out an order on a ship knows that for my size, I can really shout.
I succeeded in rousing the house, or at least I got up old Mother Willendorfer, who came charging into the room in her own nightdress and cap, with fire in her eye and a frying pan in her hand, and the landlord wailed, "Now, Mother, I was just seein' if she was settled in right." But she wasn't having any of that and she swung her frying pan up alongside his head with a mighty boooonnng and he went careening out the door and she got him again and he tumbled down the stairs to the great hilarity of those who still sat about the fire in the great room.
I ran to the top of the stairs with my shiv in my hand, my nightdress billowing about me, my hair all undone and looking a sight, I know.
"Well struck, Madam!" sang out the residents of the inn, who were pouring out of their own rooms in various states of undress, and who plainly did not have a very high opinion of either the landlord's generosity or his character, and adding, "Let's have another for the cheap bastard, him who won't fill a pint up to the proper top! And another for the poor girl! Oh, the poor thing!"
The poor thing herself continued to watch the mayhem in astonishment. The unfortunate Landlord Willendorfer was now on his hands and knees, bum in the air, and his missus gave him a swat there, too, then succeeded in kicking him moaning and groaning back to their quarters, where I am sure he did not pass a very pleasant night. I wondered what had gone on in his mind when he planned his little visit with me. Did he really think I'd just go tee-hee and comply with his wishes? Men, I swear...