"No one near," says Beatrice Cooper. She's from a farm north of Boston and seems to be a capable girl. "There are men back there on that raised-up part where the wheel is."
"The quarterdeck," I say. They might as well learn the names of things—it will make things easier, later.
"And I think that's the Captain there ... the one with the crossed belts on his chest and the sword by his side."
"That's him all right," I say. "Anything else? Annie?"
"No. Nobody's about."
"It's plain that the crew takes the Captain's orders to heart, else they would be three deep at the bars, gawking at us," I tell the girls around me.
"Nothin' over here, neither," says Katy from port forward. "Just some men over there messin' with them ropes."
"The same," says Sylvie. "I can see the ... the quarterdeck from here, too. The Captain's pointing up at the sails and talking to another man."
Probably the First Mate, I'm thinking. "All right, keep a sharp lookout and sing out if you see anyone getting near." With that, I turn and face the other girls on the Stage.
"Listen to me, all of you. Some things need to be said. Elspeth, you sit up and listen!" I pause, and when I'm sure I have everyone's attention, I go on. "Our greatest enemy right now is not those men out there. Our greatest enemy is hopelessness and despair. We cannot allow ourselves to sink into the slough of despond. What Sin-Kay said about suicide sent a chill up my spine, for I know that all of us will at some point feel it is useless to resist and it would be easiest to just give up and end it all—all the misery and pain and the promise of a life spent in shameful slavery." I pause for breath and for effect.
"But not all is hopeless, for I tell you that we will get out of this, that we will go back home, but to do that we must stick together and be strong and banish all thoughts of gloom and doom from our minds."
"But, Jacky, how can we have any hope, in all ... in all this?" blurts out Helen Bailey, gesturing with her hands at the Hold in all its grimness.
"Because, Helen, plans are being made. We can't tell you what they are, for they are not firm enough yet. I will tell you that Clarissa and I did some exploring last night and discovered some very interesting things, things that give us great hope." Many heads turn to look at Clarissa, wondering at the strange fact of she and I doing anything together except trying to strangle each other.
"And we have resources our captors do not even know about."
"Resources? What resources?" This from Caroline Thwackham, granddaughter of Judge Thwackham of the People's Court of Boston, with whom I had a passing and not very pleasant acquaintance. I still live under the threat of his sentence of an even dozen lashes should I ever appear in his court again.
"Caroline, are we all not 'Pimm's Girls' and therefore the finest and fiercest of our sex? Are we not?" I pause for a moment for that to take hold. "Yes, we are and that is our greatest resource and that is what will bring us through this. And mark me on this: Those evil men will yet live to regret the taking of the girls of the Lawson Peabody. And know this, too: It is a long way from here to the coast of Africa, and anything can happen, anything!"
There are other resources, but I ain't gonna tell them about those just yet.
Then, all is silence. Is that the stiffening of backbones I sense?
"Good. Now let us start conducting ourselves in a manner in which Mistress would approve. There are many ways we can improve our condition. Let us get started." This is, for me, a long speech, but I press on:
"First of all, everything we say or do must be kept secret from our captors. And that's everything—the fact that we have organized into divisions, the fact that we are talking like this, the fact that plans are being made. They must know nothing of us and what we are doing, yet we must know everything about them. That is why we are going to set daylight watches up there where the lookouts are now, and we are starting that watch rotation right now. There are enough of us such that you will each stand a one-hour watch once every day or so. Priscilla, will you set up the schedule?"
Priscilla Cabot, who is a precise, fussy sort, nods. This sort of task is right up her alley.
"We must stay sharp in all the ways we can. Lissette, if you could conduct a class in the French language each day for, say, an hour, I know it would be most appreciated. Hepzibah, a choral group would lift spirits—a song each evening before we go to sleep. I have a suggestion for this evening's—"
"Jacky! Two men coming!" warns Annie. "They're swinging something over here!"
"It's a lifting thing. Like we had to get hay in the barn," says Katy, who also can see out forward.
"All right. Hush, everybody." And we all watch to see what is going to happen. Presently a square of light opens up in the hatch cover that is our ceiling. It is a small hatch that has been thrown open, a small hatch that I hadn't noticed before because of the gloom up there.
"All of yiz. Against the back wall. Quick now, Captain's orders," snaps a man's voice, and two hooks on cables come snaking down into the Hold. "Two of yiz go down there and put the hooks on one o' them tubs."
Hmmm ... Cockney, from the sound of him.
"Rose, come with me," I say, and we head down to the Pit. We cross the Pit deck and stand by the tubs and watch as the hooks come slowly down.
"What will you do with 'em, then, Jock?" I ask up at the unseen man who had spoken.
"Dump 'em, you ninny, what the 'ell did you think we'd do wi' 'em? But we ain't supposed to talk to yiz, so shut yer gob."
A real friendly type, I can tell.
"I know that, Jocko," I says back at him, keeping in the Cockney way of talking to maybe get a little familiar with him. "But when you put them over the side, will you give 'em a bit of a rinse?" The tubs are made of shiny tin, so they would rinse right clean.
"Nay. Just dump. Now put on them hooks," says the man. I can see the outline of his head up there silhouetted against the light.
"Here, Rose. Take your hook and put it through the eye there. That's it. Now hold it there till they take up the slack. Good. All right, Jocko, haul away!"
I hear the sound of a winch being ratcheted up on deck and the strain is taken on the cable and the tub rises up and through the hatch. It is then swung to the side and disappears. While waiting for the empty tub to return, I notice for the first time a metal eye on the edge of the bottom of the other tub. Ah. So that is how the job is done—the tub is swung outboard, another line is attached to that bottom eyelet, a strain is taken on that line, the tub is lowered and so upends itself and empties into the sea. Neat. I like to know how things are done.
The first tub swings back in and comes down fast. It has not been rinsed. Damn. It would be such a simple thing for them to do, too.
"Oow, Jocko, you didn't rinse it, and you seem like such a nice cove, you do."
"Stoof it and hook up the other one or we'll send the Dummy down to do it."
"Now, ducks, is that any way to speak to a lady? No, it ain't. Now be a luv and rinse out this one. There you go, mate, hooks on—haul away."
Again the tub rises and again it disappears through the hatch and again returns, unrinsed. The hooks are withdrawn and the hatch slams shut without another word from the men. We'll see next time, Jocko...
Later, we have our first French lesson from Lissette, it being mostly call-and-response, of course, having no blackboard and no books, but Lissette does a pretty good job of it, even providing a clear explanation of the future subjunctive case, which I've always found rather baffling. After that is done, I take one of my petticoats and make a great show of tearing part of it into small rags. We each wear two petticoats under our dress, Mistress having been very strict in the matter of the uniformity of our costume, but we sure don't need either one of them here.
"I think we should each claim a sleeping spot, so we can have a place to keep our cups and our dresses when we're not wearing them," I say when I see that I have their attention. "You could mark your place by folding up one of your petticoats and putting it there." All of our underclothes have our initials on them in ink. I keep on ripping and talking. "I think we should spread out equally on each side of the Balcony, not sleep all on one side like we did last night"
Saying that, I take my ripped strips of cloth and my cup of water and go up the stairs to the port Balcony, walk a few steps along it, then stop. I want to be close to the stairs so I can get up unobserved in the night. I put down my cup, which still is half full, and I reach up under my dress and pull down my other petticoat, fold all but one of my strips in it, and arrange it so that the J. F. mark shows and put it up next to the hull wall.
Then I go to the edge of the Balcony and sit down. I know they're all still watching me as I dip my rag in my cup enough to moisten it and then I proceed to wash my face—it's not much of a wash, with only a damp rag, but it's something and it feels good. I close my eyes and revel in this small pleasure, and when I open them, I see the girls arranging themselves on the Balcony, and I hear the ripping of fabric.
We'll see who gets dirty, Sin-Kay.
After I've gotten the still-helpless Rebecca and the still-distraught Elspeth arranged in place on either side of my pillow, I use my cloth to clean Rebecca's face, and the coolness of it revives her a bit, so she's able to sit up and lean her back against the wall. That's a good sign.
Leaving them there, I go back to the Stage and announce, "Officers' Call," the traditional signal for the officers to gather for a conference. When Dolley and Clarissa look at me, I motion with my head for them to follow me down into the Pit. Clarissa, who has, of course, taken up residence on the opposite part of the Balcony from me, arranges her bundle to her liking and then follows, as does Dolley.
"We've got to talk," I say to the two of them in a low voice so I can't be overheard by the other girls. "First, let's show Dolley the Rat Hole."
We do it, and when she sees it she says, "But what's the plan? We certainly can't get through that. I certainly can't" she says, looking down at her rather ample chest. Dolley carries a considerable bit of tail, too, but it is all arranged in a pleasing way—she certainly didn't lack for gentlemen callers back at the school. Thinking of the school gives me a sharp pang of homesickness, but I push it down.
"We are going to widen it out."
"But how?"
"Yes, how, Commander Know-it-all?" echoes Clarissa, her voice heavy with scorn.
"With this." And with that, I pull my shiv out of my sleeve. Even in the dim light down here, the blade shines, its edge sharp as a razor and the cock's head I had carved on the handle, so long ago, grinning evilly.
"Where did you get that?" asks Dolley, her eyes wide in wonder. I believe she has forgotten her seasickness.
"I had it stashed in my seabag, which I managed to kick down into the Hold when all eyes were on you two while you were talking with that evil Simon," I say. I had taken the blade out this morning when no one was looking and had decided then to hide it separate from the bag, in case the bag was discovered. There's a lot of stuff in that bag that'll come in handy, but without the knife, we are lost.