There is a cheer from the crowd, and the Captain roars, "The newly marrieds shall now repair to their bowers while we return to our revels! I like to run a happy ship, and by God, I cannot think of a happier ship than this one!"
Roars of approval from the crew and the Crews.
Minutes later, Higgins and I are at the door to his cabin.
"Will you carry me across the threshold, husband?" I ask, twinkling at Higgins and placing my hand upon his shoulder.
He laughs, scoops me up, and carries me into the cabin. He places me on my feet, and I squeal with delight in seeing my old seabag again. I kneel down to rummage through the dear old thing—my paints, my papers, my inks, my cosmetics. Yes, a little perfume right now, oh, yes!...And then ... my miniature of Jaimy.
That cools my joy a bit.
"I'm sure he is all right, Miss," says Higgins, seeing what I hold in my hand and the expression on my face.
"Thank you for saying so, Higgins," I reply, returning the painting to the bag and rising to go sit on the bed. "Now, come over here beside me," I murmur. "We've got to make this sound good." I gesture toward the open porthole and then point to my ear. He nods in understanding—yes, they will be listening.
Higgins comes to sit next to me, and we have a raucous good time of bouncing up and down on the bed, making the bedsprings squeak and the bedstead thump against the wall. I add some feminine moans of ecstasy and cries of, "Oh, John, yes, oh, yes!"
Higgins adds a few low male grunts, and we agree that the job is done, and done well.
Afterward, he asks, "Can I get you anything in the way of a wedding present, Miss?"
As I lie back on the pillow, I think on this for a moment and then say, "You know, Higgins, my elegant little tub ... I have not seen it for a good long while."
"Of course, Miss. I could not think of anything finer. I shall order it up."
He rises and goes out the door to see that it's done. I disrobe and duck under the covers, and I pull the sheets to my chin. Soon Mick and Keefe appear, full of smirks but also bearing the tub and buckets of hot water; and then Higgins returns and the bath is prepared.
"Har-har, she takes a bath and she's a virgin again, right, Mr. Higgins?" Mick chortles. Higgins forces himself to smile at that. Funny, but Keefe doesn't laugh, either.
When the two are gone, I slip out of the bed and into the tub, and Higgins's strong fingers are once again in my hair... Oh, Lord, that is so good...
Ahhhh...
Suddenly this lovely idyll is cut short by a ringing of the bell that hangs by Higgins's bed.
"Hmm," says Higgins. "I believe I'd best go see to the Captain. He was a bit into his cups rather early in the day, what with the nuptial celebrations and all. He will probably be needing his nap now."
"Go, Higgins, and thank you. I will be fine," I say. "Till later." I get halfway out of the tub to give him a peck on the cheek. "I could not be married to a finer man."
As he goes out the door, cheers are heard. Men, I swear...
The door is left slightly ajar, and I feel eyes boring into my bare back, eyes which I strongly suspect belong to Mr. Ruger. I continue to soap myself and to pay no attention to whoever is out there. No, I do not care. All I care about is this lovely, lovely bath.
After the boisterous festivities of the day, the evening is quiet. I expect everyone is quite exhausted. I know I am, that's for sure. I take a nightdress from my lovely seabag and crawl into bed.
I slip off to sleep, but I awaken when Higgins comes back into the cabin.
I turn over and slide over next to the wall. Higgins undresses, dons his nightshirt, and asks, "Are you awake, Miss?"
"Yes, Higgins."
"I shall sleep over here on the floor."
"No, you shall not, Higgins. You will sleep in here next to me, to keep me from the damp. I'll lie next to the wall, and you shall sleep on the outside so it'll be easier for you to answer the Captain's call, should it come."
He says nothing, but I feel him slip in next to me.
"Ummm..." I murmur and snuggle up next to him and settle in. After a bit, I whisper in the darkness, "Higgins?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"Is ... is there anything I can ... uh... do for you ... husband?" I place my hand on his lower ribs. "We are legally married, you know ... and there are some ... things ... that I have heard about..."
He chuckles, then lifts my hand, to place it higher on his chest. "No, Miss. I think it best that we keep our relationship on the platonic level. But thank you for the offer. Let us go to sleep now."
I nuzzle in closer and take a deep breath. "I do love you, John Higgins. You are my best and dearest friend."
The Lorelei Lee rocks us both into a deep and contented sleep.
Chapter 38
Mrs. John Higgins
Onboard the Lorelei Lee
Off the West Coast of India
July 1807
Miss Amy Trevelyne
Dovecote Farm
Quincy, Massachusetts, USA
Dear Amy,
Bombay! Can you believe it, Amy? We shall be in Bombay, India, tomorrow! There will be English ships there, and I shall be able to post my letters. Captain Laughton tells me that we English own the place—King Charles II got it as dowry from the Portuguese back when he married Catherine de Braganza. Guess the Indians didn't have much say in the matter, but hey...
I shall be able to look about for my Bombay Rat, whatever it may be, and wherever it might lie.
What news, then? Let's see...
The Captain has found out that I once owned this ship upon which we all now ride, but he seems to have gotten used to the idea; and now he even consults me on some things—like sail set and configuration and suchlike.
Enoch, the Shantyman—he who leads songs and beats out the rhythms to facilitate the work details, like raising and lowering sails, hauling anchor, and such—compliments me particularly on the design of my table, with its slots and depressions for all the dinnerware. Given his condition, he rejoices in always knowing where his food and drink lie. You would think a blind man would be messy in his eating habits, but he is not. A light touch of his forefinger on the contents of his plate tells him where and what things are. And for a rough, craggy-looking man, he is really quite kind and courtly, and congratulates me on my marriage to John Higgins, saying, "He is a fine man and I hope you will be very happy together."
Heavy sigh ... Yes, dear, I know that news must come as a bit of a shock. I suspect this letter has fallen from your hand, and you are passed out on the floor. You see, it had to be done for the sake of Higgins's reputation onboard and for my own protection, too, and ... uh ... ask Ezra to explain, as he knows both Higgins and me.
What else...?
Well, we have taken to playing at cards. There are endless games of whist, and I have become quite expert—and I don't even cheat. I usually partner with Higgins against the Captain and whomever he has invited to play. I take great pleasure in trumping Mr. Ruger's aces, and while I know I must be careful in that regard, it is satisfying to see his dark face redden. He is not at all pleased with my marriage to John, as he had sort of staked a claim on me from the start. Why, I don't know—he is the high-and-mighty First Mate, and I am but a mere convict. There are two-hundred-and-fifty-odd women onboard from whom he could freely choose and yet he settles on me. Men, I swear...
Higgins opines that what one most desires is very often that which one cannot have. I don't know...
We have stopped at Mauritius and at the Seychelles and the Maldives—Oh, Amy, such wonders, such sights, such smells, such colors! If only you could be here with me to take it all in—not that I'd want you to be a convict, of course. I really don't think you're cut out for that sort of thing, but still, I would delight in your sweet company.
At each of those ports, we pursue our various trades—the girls of the brothel Crews plying their ancient trade; me diving for coins thrown from the decks of ships. Actually I am growing quite rich at it—and yes, Amy, I am wearing appropriate garb when I dive. Course I could make more by diving starkers, but no sense pushing my luck. Best leave that sort of thing to Barnsley and her girls. Besides, my swimsuit is skimpy enough to insure good tips.
I bask in Mrs. Barnsley's disfavor—she glares at me each time I waltz into the Captain's cabin for a night of cards and entertainment. I have noticed that when people like me, they tend to like me a lot, but if they don't, watch out for Jacky Faber. I repay kindness with kindness, love with love, but also hurt for hurt. I can be vindictive, yes, and vengeful, too. No, it does not say much for me, but there you are. When I catch Barnsley giving me the cold stare, I put on the Lawson Peabody Look, c*ck a hip in her direction, and stick out my tongue. Old cow...
Last night at dinner, Captain Laughton was musing on the fact that another convict ship with an escort left England shortly after we did, and he is surprised our wakes have not yet crossed, as both ships are taking essentially the same route to New South Wales. True, the ocean is large and our ships are small, but there are crossroads at sea, as well as on land.
Daytimes I fill my hours with drawing, painting, talking with my mates, and shooting rats. Yes, I have constructed a bow and manufactured a quantity of good-quality arrows and have gone hunting for the little grain-thieving varmints. I have access to the bottom deck, and my aim has become quite deadly, which is good, for our meat supply is running low and not always available in these tropical ports, where meat spoils so easily. Those of our sisters who were on the Bloodhound will recall how good Katy Deere and her Dianas were at bagging the creatures, and how good Cookie was at cooking them.
Being married to my dear John Higgins has many advantages, one of which is being allowed more freedom when we hit a port. I am, after all, married to the Assistant Purser, and so am accorded some respect for that. I have given my word not to try to escape, and I am trusted.
Well, time for dinner. The Captain calls and I must obey.
Tomorrow Bombay!
Your Ever Devoted Sister and Friend,
Jacky
Chapter 39
"Come, Mairead, the Captain has given us permission to visit this great city in the company of my dear husband today, as Higgins is off to buy spices and other supplies for the Captain's table, and we"—I poke Mairead in the side and give her a wink—"shall see what we will see."
Mairead grins back as we advance to the head of the gangplank.
"You must be careful of her, Mr. Higgins," admonishes the Captain when we are on the brow. "You may be married to her, but she is going to New South Wales. The redhead, too. I know my duty, however distasteful it might be." He pauses, then adds, "And, furthermore, I have grown quite fond of both of them. Plus, there is to be a procession of some sort this afternoon, and I am invited to the Governor's box. I expect, Mr. Higgins, for you to attend me there."
Higgins bows and assures him his two charges will be good and careful, and that he will be delighted to view the procession in the Captain's company. And with a pair of delighted squeals from the two charges, we are off.
On the dock, Higgins greets a very dignified and proper Indian man dressed in Western style. He is a Mr. Rajeeb and has been hired to guide him about on the day's business. As he leads Higgins off into the teeming city, we follow meekly—well, sort of meekly.