"What makes you think I could dive down that far when others cannot?" I ask, a part of me ever the realist.
"There are new scientific discoveries ... a new apparatus designed to take men deeper than they have ever gone before."
"Then, why not get men to do it? Professional pearl divers or something?"
"Because professional divers would arouse suspicion and you would not. They would not keep their mouths shut and you will. They are not members of this organization, and you are, however much you might resist that title. Remember, Florida is in Spanish hands, and you might be watched."
"This ... apparatus ... what is it?"
"You will see. A respected man of science in Boston has the latest model, ready for us to put aboard. Boston, of course, is considered the hub of what they choose to call civilization over there. He will accompany the machine, to instruct you in its proper use."
I think on this and then say, "A full pardon? And I'd be let go to make my own way in this world without all of you hounding me?"
"It is possible."
Hmmm...
"What do you think, Higgins?"
"Well, Miss, it has possibilities," he replies. "And I think it is your only option. Plus you will get to see your friends in Boston again."
"Yes, there's that," I say. "And will Mr. Higgins be with me?"
"Yes, Miss, as will your entire crew. Several of them are in jail right now, but they will be restored to your ship. And as a further sign of our goodwill, we have managed to extricate from imprisonment in France your friend David Jones, as per your request earlier this year. Seaman Jones will be assigned to your ship's crew as well."
Davy?
My mind is spinning out of control and Little Mary seizes that opportunity to creep back into my brain and I am powerless to keep her out.
Treasure, Jacky, treasure beyond our wildest dreams...
Chapter 8
I had resolved early on that, in spite of all that had happened to destroy my happiness, I would be cheerful and make the best of things. After all, I am able to get back on my lovely little ship again, and though I was not able to marry Jaimy, at least I will be able to see him sometimes, which is a welcome change from our usual situation of being half a world apart. And again, there is that possibility of treasure. Plus it's in my nature to be cheerful—whenever I can keep the Black Cloud off, that is—and right now I can...
...because now ... there is Davy.
It was the day after my supposed wedding and I was brought back to the Nancy B., with strict orders to behave myself, and there he was, standing on the quarterdeck. And it was so good to see the scrappy rascal again, looking all fine in blue trousers and jacket and red striped shirt, that I clasped him to me, crying, "Ah, Davy, well met, well met indeed!"
"You again," he said with a wide grin. "I thought we were done with you for good and ever, Jacky."
"You see, I do have a way of popping back up."
He put his hands on my shoulders and his gaze softened as he looked in my eyes and said, "Ah, Jacky, when I saw that blade come down and then the executioner lifting up the head by its hair for all to see—hair that looked a lot like yours—well, I thought that ... I thought the old Brotherhood of five was now reduced unto three, I did." Then remembering his old cheeky self, he looked off, coughed, and added, "And good riddance, I thought at the time. Old Boney has done me a favor and gotten rid of that pest for good and ever."
I gave him a poke with my finger. And that's not all you did, Davy. You also led a riot in the prison and got yourself flogged for it. That's why you've got these stripes on your back and that's why you have this new tattoo here on the back of your hand.
I grabbed his wrist and held up his hand, to look at the tattoo. It was of a cat and, from the rendering of the chest and hips, plainly a female cat, wearing boots and brandishing a sword with Puss-in-Boots written above and the single word Vengeance written below. Mr. Peel had told me about that particular tattoo, the one that was being etched onto various arms and hands about the fleet, in memory of the death by guillotine of the girl pirate La Belle Jeune Fille Sans Merci, but that was the first time I had actually seen one of them. And here it was on Davy. Imagine that.
"And now three members of that old Brotherhood will again trod on the same deck, and a fourth not too far off. Ain't life strange sometimes?"
"Aye, it is, Jacky, and stranger yet is the fact that Puss-in-Boots is the boss of that same deck. Don't know how I'll be handlin' that."
You'll get over it, Davy. I ain't that hard a taskmaster.
I ran my hand over his back, feeling the furrowed lash marks there. "I heard you were whipped, Brother, and all on account of me. I am so sorry," I said. "I know I am so very hard on my friends." And I hugged him to me again, putting my head to his chest. "But let us speak no more about that." I lifted my head to look into his eyes. "You know we are going to the Caribbean, but we are stopping in Boston first."
And those eyes did light up. "Oh yes, Jacky, I do know that!" he exulted, and I knew he was imagining his reunion—and I do mean re-union—with Annie, my own dear friend and, most recently, his own dear wife.
I gave him a punch and said, "You'd better be good to her, Davy."
"I am very good to her," said the rascal with a saucy wink. "Just ask the lass—after I've been there a few days—just how good I have been."
I gave him another poke and we both turned to the outfitting of the Nancy B. Alsop for the coming voyage across the raging sea.
During the week following my involuntary reenlistment in the Naval Intelligence Corps, we made mighty preparations for getting under way. In addition to loading on stores—the usual flour, salt pork, dried peas, crates of chickens, oatmeal, dry soup, and rum—we added a carefully packed cargo of fine Wedgwood china. Jacky Faber may now be an agent of British Naval Intelligence, but she is still a merchant. We also used the time to set up a laboratory under the main hatch, for Dr. Sebastian's use. When we were done, he came to visit and pronounced himself very satisfied with the results and most excited about the upcoming expedition—the scientific part of it, anyway. Dr. Sebastian would make the later crossing, on the Dolphin, as he had family business to attend to, and because, I think, he really did not relish sailing across the Atlantic in such a small craft as mine. After all, the Dolphin was two hundred and four feet long at the waterline and the Nancy B. a scant sixty-five.
It was decided that my schooner would leave a week before the frigate, as I would be ready sooner than they, and besides, for reasons of secrecy, it would not be good for us to be seen sailing together. Captain Hudson decided to pay a call on us as we were preparing to get under way, and I was so very glad to see the good Captain again, he who watched out for me as best he could back there on the Dauntless, and later when we all were crammed into that foul French prison. And I was further delighted to find that Lieutenant Bennett was again with him, as he was assigned to be his First Mate on the Dolphin.
However, at a final meeting in the First Lord's office, I was not delighted to learn that, much to my disgust, Lieutenant Harry Flashby would also be assigned to the Dolphin, and as Second Mate, no less!
"You must be joking!" I cried, when I first learned of this. I jumped up and pointed my finger at Flashby, who stood smirking by the door. "The first time we met, he tried to ravish me and I was but fourteen years old and lay unconscious. And the second time he managed to get me in his foul clutches, he tied me to a chair and tortured me! A fine choice for Second Mate of HMS Dolphin, I must say!" That will also make the vile bastard Jaimy's superior officer and you can count on Flashby's doing his best to make Jaimy's life miserable...
"Now, Miss," replied Peel, in what he must have thought was a soothing voice, "those were different circumstances. You understand we must have an agent onboard who has military experience, to watch out for our ... interests, should the mission succeed."
And watch me, too...
I was not mollified.
The day before we leave, I have another visitor.
At dawn she appears on the dock next to us, holding a small bundle of what I assume to be her clothes, other than those she had on her back, along with everything else she owned.
It is Joannie Nichols.
"Joannie? What are you doing here?" I ask, going to the gangway.
She looks up at me. "I want to go with you," she says, and hands me a letter, which I promptly open and read. It is from my grandfather, Reverend Alsop, Headmaster of the London Home for Little Wanderers.
My Dearest Mary,
As you read this, I know that Joan Nichols stands before you, asking to be taken with you on your next journey. How she knows where you can be found, I do not know, and she will not tell me.
Joan is a good child, but she has a stubborn, restless nature—she has already left the Home on three separate occa- sions, but has eventually returned each time. She is polite, has good manners, is good at sewing, and has learned her letters, but she has expressed no inclination for going into teaching, manufacturing, marriage, or service, which as you know are the options open to our girls.
If she does not come back, I will know that she is with you and I wish you both Godspeed.
Wishing you lived a more settled life, I am
Your loving grandfather,
George Henry Alsop
I fold the letter back up and look at her standing, head bowed, on the wharf.
"So. The lure of the street proved too much for you, eh?"
"Sometimes. They were nice at the Home, but..." She lets it trail off, and I know exactly what she means.
"You realize it's dangerous out on the sea?"
"I do."
"How did you know where to find me? It's supposed to be a secret."
"We're here in Cheapside. I've been in and out of the Home. I know what's happenin' on my turf, I do. I have friends both in the Home and on the streets. So I know."
Hmmm ... Scrawny, but with a smart mouth on her. Maybe twelve or thirteen years old. Red rough hands and pointy nose. Awkward. Hands and feet too big for her gangly body...
Just like I was.
I sigh and think, She's wise in the ways of the streets, so at least I won t have to baby-sit her. So, what the hell—if I re- fuse, she'll just work those streets till she is devoured by them, and sailing with me is better than that. Not much, but some.
"All right, Joannie. Come aboard. Your billet will be that of Ship's Girl. You will help Mr. Tinker in the cooking of food, and you will mop and clean and do anything else that is asked of you." I give her a stern look. "Is that understood?"
She nods and runs up the gangway, the joy plain on her face.
"Draw some light canvas from our stores to make yourself a pair of proper sailor's pants, as you certainly cannot perform your duties in that dress. When you are presentable, report to me."
In less than ten minutes I see her up on the crow's-nest, sewing away, and singing.
This morning we cast off, now riding the Thames's river current and the tide down to the sea. It is a beautiful day for a departure, if such a leave-taking must be made, the sky clear, with but a few scudding clouds, the breeze brisk, and the air warm.