This is met with some groans.
"Look. It ain't so bad. In fact, there are some advantages—like plenty of water and soap to keep ourselves, our hair, and our linen clean. There will be plenty of work to be done in that regard, especially after the Lizzies, the Judies, and the Tartans have plied their trade in Gibraltar." I hold my nose on that one and get a few laughs.
"And do not mistake me, they will laugh at you for working hard in the laundry whilst they loll about all day..."
"Yeah," chimes in Ann Marsh. "But we'll laugh at them for a-gettin' the pox and passin' it on t' their fine fellows so's that they walks with a limp and their noses fall off!"
More laughter, and that seals the deal.
"And I think we might do well with sewing, too. Half the women on this ship are wearin' rags."
"But how do you think we'll be able to do all that?" asks Esther. "The laundry, cloth for the sewing, and all?"
"I got an in with the Assistant Purser, is how," I answer. "Now, if any of you would rather go join the whorey Crews, do it now 'cause I can't have any slackers on my Crew."
There, I have said it: My Crew ... and let there be no doubt of that.
After the girls seem settled, I go topside to see just how far this Captain's pronouncement of "freedom of the ship" goes.
I poke my head up into the light at the top of the hatchway, and so far, so good. I am not stopped and thrown back below. The sailors go about their duties as always, there are officers on the quarterdeck, and work proceeds just as it does on any ship at sea.
I grab a ratline and head for the foretop, my natural place on any ship. I flip up over the edge and, Oh, Glory! To be here is such a gift! It is a glorious, soaring, sunlit day. The sails are well set and taut, and the Lorelei Lee fairly rips along. She is not my ship now, but still I can revel in this moment. I lean my back against the foremast, as I have so many times before, and let my mind wander back to London.
Ah, Jaimy ... I do so hope that you are well and have been cleared of all the false charges laid against your good name, and I wish that with all my heart. But, alas, probably I'll never learn the outcome of that travesty of justice.
I, myself, am condemned for life to New South Wales, and it sure looks like I'm gonna end up there, short of shipwreck or an act of God. And ... Jaimy ... though I love you, I do not know that I can worry about you forever because the years are sure to dull the edge of my love and my fears.
Y'see, Jaimy, I'm goin' off for the rest of my life, but you have not yet been so condemned. I will always keep you uppermost in my thoughts and prayers, Jaimy, but at the same time, I'm hoping that you will find someone other than me, as I have been nothing but trouble.
Be well, love, and happy...
"Wot's this, then? One o' the below-decks-dollies come to visit with a poor sailor, bless 'er." My foretop reverie has been interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of two sailors on the foretop, both big and both ugly.
"Bless yerself, Mate, and leave me be."
"Hey, ain't she a nice little piece, Monk?" asks the uglier of the two.
"Got a mouth on 'er, too," says the other, the very aptly named Monk—I half expect him to start scratchin' at his armpits and begin jumpin' around chitterin'. "She's a bit dirty, but a dip in the dunkin' stool'd take care o' that. Fix 'er smart mouth, too." They hunker down next to me.
"You been taken up by any man yet?" The other bloke grins down on me. "If not, ye are now, and lucky you, as you will soon find out."
"Sod off, Jack," I say, getting to my feet and sticking my nose in the air. "Captain said we didn't have to if we didn't want to, and I don't want to. You heard what he said about forcin' us."
"Me name ain't Jack, little Miss," he growls, grabbin' me by the arm. "It's Suggs ... Suggs, darlin,' to you."
"Yer name's gonna be mud if you don't let me go, Suggs, darling. I got friends here." I growl with warning in my tone and shake off his hand.
"Friends? Who you got? You ain't got nothing, girl."
"You'll see..."
"Maybe," says this Suggs. "Let's just see you git down." He goes and stands over the lubbers' hole, crossin' his arms and thinkin' to block my exit from the foretop.
I, of course, go to the edge of the platform, leap out, grab on to the fore backstay, and scamper down, hand over hand, dress blowin' about my waist. And any sick-in-the-head bloke what gets some pleasure outta seein' my filthy drawers is welcome to the sight.
Silly sailors, to think you can confine Jacky Faber in the riggin ... Ha!
Swinging down to the deck, I give Suggs and Monk up above a two-fingered salute to my brow as I press on. I had thought of givin' 'em the universal single-finger obscene gesture, but thought better of it. Nay, no sense makin' any more enemies than you already have.
As I pass the quarterdeck, I see that the First Mate, Mr. Ruger, has the con ... and he also notices me as I stride across the deck.
"The first dolly up and about," he says to those on his watch. "It must be a brave, brave girl, indeed!" Chuckles all around.
I thrust my nose in the air and proceed forward.
As I pass the forward hatch, and am hidden from the quarterdeck by the lower belly of the fore-and-aft-rigged staysail, a figure appears by my side.
It is, I am very glad to see, my dear, dear Higgins.
"Well met, Miss," he says. He carries a package under his arm.
"Well met, indeed, Higgins. It is so good to see you."
"We must keep this short. I have here your serving outfit and several changes of linen..."
I almost choke with joy.
"...as well as your pennywhistle. I don't think it wise to bring out anything more, just yet."
"Yes, Higgins, you are absolutely right." I sniffle, then subside. "Now, I have assembled a group of reasonably good girls ... We are called the Newgaters—"
"Yes, I know how factions are forming in this ship ... the other Crews and all. I rather assumed that you would be quite busy in your usual ways."
"Good, Higgins, nobody was ever sharper than thee," I say as I take the package from him. "Now, my Crew would like to have the laundry rights."
"Indeed, Miss. I think that can be arranged."
"And I want exclusive rights. 'Course we'll have to do the sailors' clothes, but I don't want anyone from the other Crews barging into the laundry thinking she's gonna dunk her dirty undies into our hot, soapy water for nothing. Nay, ladies, it'll be thruppence a bag, or live in filth."
In outfitting the Lorelei Lee back in Boston, I paid special attention to the laundry, knowing that there would be a lot of it on a passenger ship, and so had located it in a spacious room next to the galley. That way the water could be heated on the galley stoves in between the cooking and serving of food and, after being used, could then be tossed out the porthole, that deck being above the waterline. I had also purchased two hundred and fifty net bags—I'd not forgotten my time as chambermaid at the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls.
"Very well, Miss, I shall facilitate that."
"You are sure you can?"
"Purser Samsock has indicated to me that he would be delighted if I would handle all the tedious everyday concerns, leaving the high-minded and complex Keeping of the Ledgers to him."
"Is he corrupt?"
"I believe that every officer on this ship is in some way corrupt," replies Higgins, with a sniff. "But not in an odious way. The Purser does enjoy his cup, but he seems a pleasant sort, content with his rum, his pipe, and his columns of figures."
I think on this and then whimper, "Can you do it this afternoon, please, Higgins? I am so filthy."
"Yes, Miss. Right after the noon meal."
"Higgins, you are so good to me," I say, and risk a quick kiss on his cheek. "Till later."
***
I go back down to my Crew to give 'em the good news. "Yes, ladies, this afternoon we shall wash both our clothing and ourselves! Hurrah! And now I shall go scout out our place of business to make sure it is set up proper!"
I creep down to the galley and peek in, knowin' full well what I will find, and—yep, there they are, all three of 'em ... I figured they would be...
Head up, I stride into the kitchen, and seein' a pot of coffee on the stove and a handy cup hanging on a hook, I take it down and pour myself a cup.
"Here, here! Girl, you can't..." The cook's voice trails off upon recognizing me. And then..."Oh, my God, it's—"
"Hello, Cookie," I chirp, takin' a big sip of the strong brew. "And Mick and Keefe, too. My, my, it's old home week, ain't it, lads?"
The three stand there, regarding me with open mouths, which, in the case of Mick and Keefe, ain't exactly a pretty sight.
"Wh-why, it's ... Jacky," says Cookie, the first to re-cover, the ladle in his hand motionless above a cauldron, one of four that sits on the stovetop, bubblin' and smellin' real good.
"Right, Cookie, your old mate from back on the Bloodhound. Ain't life funny sometimes?"
They look at each other fearfully, and well they should. If I informed on 'em, if I told the Captain that these three were involved in the kidnapping of the girls of the very high-toned Lawson Peabody School back in Boston, last year—and one of those girls being the granddaughter of former U.S. President John Adams—they would surely be confined and later hanged for it. That incident has gained wide notoriety, especially since Amy Trevelyne's book on the subject has been circulating freely throughout the English-speaking world.
I let them stew in their guilty juices for a bit, whilst I grab a hot biscuit from a tray and dip it into the burgoo pot, then pop it into my mouth. Ummmm...
After I have finished it off with much vigorous chewing and smacking of lips, I say to them, "Don't worry, mates. I ain't gonna peach on ye. You was pretty good t' me back on the Bloodhound, and I ain't one to forget past favors. Plus, I ain't the peachin' kind, just don't like it, somehow, bein' a tell-a-tale ... andw hat'st his?"
I feel something furry rub against my ankle.
"And speakin' o' peachin'...if it ain't our Jezebel herself!" I sit down on the stool and lift the cat onto my lap to stroke her back. "My! Ain't we lookin' fit and fine, Miss!" Then I ask her reprovingly, "Remember that night on the slaver, when I was hid under the stove, dressed in my black burglar's gear, and these three blokes was tromping about, and you come sniffin' at me? Yes, and you could have ruined everything, 'cept that the Black Ghost intervened just as Cookie was bendin' down to see what you was sniffin' at, and these three fools went howlin' out into the night." I rub her ears and she purrs.
"But you knew, didn't you? You knew it was me who was the Black Ghost all along, and you weren't afraid of me at all. Not like these other silly coves."
The silly coves continue to eye me, and I go on. "Nay, lads, I shan't peach on thee, but in return, you must keep my identity secret, too. I've gone right famous in certain ways, and I don't think it would be good for me to have it known yet just who I am."
Cookie, who always has been the bravest of the three, turns back to his cauldrons and chuckles. "So, Jacky, what's on now?"