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Rapture of the Deep Page 31
Author: L.A. Meyer

"By and by, Brother Rabbit come hoppin' along the road, whistlin' a tune, and Brother Fox call out to him, 'Hey, Brother Rabbit, look what we got chere!' And he lift Sister Rabbit up by her ears and holds her over the boilin' oil. 'We about to have us a snack! Hee-hee!'

"Sister Rabbit, she got her front paws put t'gether, her eyes on Heaven, mumblin' a prayer and gettin' ready to meet her Lord, and Brother Rabbit see her there and say, 'Brother Fox, now you know that ain't nice. You let her go now, y'hear?'

"But Brother Fox, he shake his head and say, 'I'll be lettin' her go, Brother Rabbit, when you come over chere and take her place.'

"And Sister Rabbit, she wail, 'Oh, don't do it, Brother Rabbit! Run, and save yo'self! I done made my peace with the Lord!'

"But Brother Rabbit, he got a noble streak in him, and so he go over to Brother Fox and lets him grab him by the ears, and the fox say, 'Ha! Got you now, you slipp'ry rascal!' Brother Fox flip Sister Rabbit away and she run off cryin'."

Jemimah pauses to shape the loaf on the breadboard, which gives Daniel a chance to jump in with a question. "Why didn't they just eat Sister Rabbit and forget about Brother Rabbit?" asks Daniel. "I figure a rabbit in the hand is worth—"

"Because Brother Rabbit got a lot more meat on him, is why, Brother Boy. Plus they got a lot of scores to settle with him. And don't interrup' your Aunt Jemimah when she in a story."

Daniel clams up, and she continues.

"So Brother Fox picks up Brother Rabbit and holds him over the bubblin' pot. And Brother Bear ties his napkin round his neck and picks up his knife and fo'k as Fox slowly lowers Rabbit down—"

Just then Davy pops his head in the hatchway and says, "Sorry to break up story hour, Jacky, but we're ready to get under way. Danny, get up on lookout. Joannie, to the land lines."

The story will have to wait for another time as we all go to our stations.

I blink in the bright light on the quarterdeck. When my eyes adjust I see that all is well. We have the tide and the breeze behind us and will not have to tow ourselves out.

"All right," I call. "Raise the Main, Fore, and Spanker. We'll go with those on the port tack till we clear the harbor. Throw off the lines." Joannie removes the land lines, and they are hauled aboard as she scampers onboard after them.

"Jim, steer to the left of the channel. I'd like to stay as far away from the San Cristobal as possible. Maybe she won't notice us leaving."

"Aye, Missy."

But she notices, all right. As we approach the big ship, a boat is lowered and pulls straight for us.

Uh-oh...

When it draws abreast, a young Spanish midshipman standing in the bow calls out, "You there! Americano! You are commanded to take your ship portside of the San Cristobal. There you will slack your sails and stop to wait until you are given permission to proceed. If you fail to do this, you will be destroyed."

Lord, what now?

I find out soon enough. As we pull alongside, I see Lieutenant Cisneros standing at the rail. Then I realize with horror that four gratings have been set up next to him and on them four men are bound, face-first and spread-eagled—Eduardo, Jesus, Manuelo, and Mateo. They have been stripped of all clothing, and next to each stands a sailor with a whip.

When we have stopped, Cisneros raises his hand and then drops it. The seamen wind up and bring their whips down on the bare backs of my poor Spanish sailors.

One ... two ... three ... four ... five...

Eduardo, Jesus, and Manuelo writhe and groan, but the young boy Mateo does not.

No, he screams.

Chapter 29

The Nancy B. is anchored off Key West once again, and I am back to diving. 'Course we ain't divin' on that spot—don't want to give that away should anyone come along. No, we're just diving for sponges and scientific specimens, innocent as can be, and about a half mile from where the Santa Magdalena lies.

We've been here for two days, waiting for the Dolphin, which hasn't showed up yet, and I'm starting to worry a bit.

Jaimy, where are you?

We've finished up with breakfast and I'm about to go to my cabin to change into my swimsuit to begin the day's work, when Daniel, who has been stacking firewood next to the stove, pipes up with, "Auntie, I ain't stackin' no more wood till you tell us how Brother Rabbit got out of that fix he was in."

Jemimah, who is washing the morning's dishes, with Joannie beside her drying them and putting them away, looks at him and says, "How you know he got outta that trouble, boy? How you know they didn't just pop him right inta that hot oil and then cut him up and eat him right on the spot and then lean back and suck on his bones? How you know that? Hmmmm? Happened to a lot o' rabbits, you know ... a whole lot o rabbits. Oh, yes it did."

"Oh, come on, Auntie," pleads Joannie. "Tell us what happened to that rabbit...Please."

Jemimah sighs a theatrical sigh and begins. "Well, you recollect that Brother Fox had got Brother Rabbit by his ears and was holdin him above that pot of boilin lard, ready to fry him up good?"

"Yes, we do," chorus all three of us together, eagerly anticipating the rest of the story.

Jemimah hangs her huge skillet on its nail and goes on.

"'So, says Brother Fox, relishin the moment. 'You got any last words, Rabbit, fore your delicious self takes a real hot dip?

"Brother Rabbit, he cut his eyes over to Brother Bear, who's sharpenin' up his knives on a rock and grinnin a big toothy hungry grin, and Brother Rabbit figures his time on this earth is finally up, so he stretches out his arms in prayer and lifts his face to Heaven.

"'Lord, this poor little ol' no-account rabbit is comin' home to you, and I thanks you for the life you give me so far, says Brother Rabbit, and though he cain't perk up his ears, 'cause they both in Brother Fox's fist, he does hear a sound from not far off, which give him some hope.

"Ooooooooo ... oooooooo ... ahoooooooo .. I

"And he decide to keep talking as long as he can.

"'Lord, don't be too hard on Brother Fox and Brother Bear for murderin' me—don't send 'em to Hell for too long—maybe only an eternity or two. After all, it's just in their natures and they too dumb to know any better'.

" 'Oooo ... ahooooooo ... ahooooooo ... '

" 'Brother Fox, whyn't you just dunk him on down dere and shut up dat rabbit's wise mouth for good and ever? asks Brother Bear, gettin impatient and beginnin to drool a bit, which ain't a pretty sight, no. He uses one of his knives to slice up some taters and tosses em into the pot, where they sizzles up real good.

"Oooooooo ... oooooOOOOO ... AHOOO... HOOOO...'

"'What dat sound? say Brother Fox, cockin his head. He don't have long to wonder, as the sound gets louder and louder and then..."

"...and then...?" breathe Joannie and Daniel, leaning forward together. "...and then...?"

"...and then ... there's a big fuss in the bushes and all of a sudden Sister Rabbit come burstin into the camp, winded but still runnin' for all she worth. Brother Rabbit see what she been up to, and it warms him to his manly core. Right behind her are bout a dozen dogs. She must've gone down to the plantation and showed herself to the master's foxhounds, and they, bayin' and hallooin' all the way, take off after Sister Rabbit, and she leads em straight into Brother Fox's camp."

Jemimah indulges in some more rattling of pots and pans as she's putting them away, and then she finishes up.

"Now, when them dogs see what's goin' on, they forgit all about Sister Rabbit and head right off for Brother Fox, 'cause they's foxhounds, y'see, and don't care nothin' 'bout no silly rabbits when there's foxes around to be chased. Brother Fox flings Brother Rabbit aside, and he take off as fast as he can, with those hounds right on his red bushy tail, and Brother Bear runs bawlin into the woods with a few of those dogs on his brown stumpy tail, as well.

"And that's the story of how Sister Rabbit saved Brother Rabbit's little white tail after he had put his life on the line for her. Not only were them two bunnies safe and sound, but they also happily had lunch't gether on Brother Bear's crispy fried potatoes. End of that Rabbit Tale."

As the last pot is hung on its hook, Jemimah sings:

Little piece o' cornbread, sitting on a shelf,

You want any more, yo' can sing it yo'self.

"Now get off, all of yous," she orders. "Ain cha got no work to do?"

Daniel and Joannie scamper off topside, but I linger a bit before going to change into my swimsuit. I check in with Gringo, who seems to be recovering well, and then turn back to Jemimah.

"Jemimah," I say, "I've noticed something about you."

"And what's that, girl?"

"You got two ways of talking. One slavey, and one ... well, regular, like."

"Huh!" She laughs. "I spent forty years waitin' on white folks tables—of course, I can talk just like them ... When I want to. But I think the darky way fits better with the Rabbit Tales, don't you?"

Can't argue wi' dat.

***

It's just after two in the afternoon, and Joannie—she being healed up enough to dive with me again—and I are on the raft, lying back amid all the sponges we have harvested this day, soaking up the sun and talking.

"Joannie, you see how fast those little fishies down there can move with just a flick of their tails? I wish we could move through the water like that."

"Uh-huh ... me too, Jacky, but we ain't got tails. Not like they got, anyway."

"Hmmm ... But maybe we could work something out," I say, putting my arms behind my head and stretching out all lazy, like a wet seal drying off in the sun. "You know how my very good friend Amy Trevelyne back in Boston goes on and on about the American scientist Benjamin Franklin ... No? Well, she does, believe me, and one of the things she tells me about him is that he was a devoted swimmer, telling all the people about the benefits of that particular exercise for one's health and all that, and in connection with that, he invented some paddles that you strapped on your hands to make you move faster through the water."

I pause to watch some fluffy white clouds scud across the sky. Then I continue.

"But I don't think those hand things is gonna get it—it'd be like trying to claw your way through the water, and I figure you gotta sorta wiggle through it. Like the fishies do." I think further on this and then say, "Maybe if we put those things on our feet and made them all loose and whippy, like the fishies' tail fins..."

"That might work," says Joannie, doubtfully.

"I'll get Ship's Engineer John Tinker on it right away. And speakin' of makin' things, I'd like you to take some light canvas and make a little bitsy vestlike thing with tiny pockets in it for Gringo, if he gets better."

She looks at me curiously. "For sure ... but why?"

"I figure he lost the last fight 'cause he wasn't strong enough, especially in the legs. Oh, he was faster than the other bird, but El Matador was just too big and too well trained. It was my fault. I started him too early. But I plan on fixing that. Once he's back on his feet, we'll start putting lead slugs in the pockets of that vest, just a few and then a lot, till his drumsticks are just like iron. Then we shall see, El Matador—Hey, look there, Joannie, there's a flock of those pink things."

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L.A. Meyer's Novels
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