I ain't never had a pair of shoes, not since That Dark Day, but I'm sure the finer families of Kingston will expect them in a tutor.
Next morning I sit next to Joshua Spenser at breakfast, as he is from Jamaica, and I ask him about the fine families of Kingston, the laws on singing in the street, and the wearing of shoes, required or no? I figure it being broad daylight and out in the open, he won't be tainted by my notorious company and he don't seem to mind.
"Well, boy," he says in that musical way the Caribbean sailors have, "I not be knowing of the fine families in Kingston, just some of the fine ladies there."
He grins in anticipation of the fine ladies.
"But I do know all the rich people live up on the high street above the town. They be right easy to spot when they come to town, bein' all white people and all finely dressed. As for shoes, one can get by with the sandals, which they sell in the market square. Very cheap."
That's a relief. If I get put off with any money, that's the first thing I'll buy.
"As for the laws about singing in the street, why, are you t'inkin' of desertin', boy?"
"No, Joshua, I'm only thinking of maybe picking up a few pennies in doing it when we're on liberty."
His face fairly glows with the prospect of shore leave in his hometown. "Wait you see, boy. On market day all the women they come to town with baskets full of foods and spread it out on blankets and in stalls, and there's the best rum and music, such music! And if it's Carnival time, which it is now, the party never stops, boy, I tell you true!"
I finish up my lovely gruel and wait patiently for him to get back on the subject at hand.
"Now as to the Law, boy," he says chewing and thinking, "there is Law, and too much of it to my mind, and the name of the Law is Sheriff John Stone, and he is no man to mess with. If he wants to let you sing and play your whistle in his street, he'll let you. If not, it's the Trenchtown jail for you, boy, and mark me, it's a place you'll not soon forget. Best check with the man first, boy."
I resolve to do it.
We've pulled up next to other ships we've come across, to get information on the pirates' whereabouts. They don't always want to stop to talk, but when a King's ship says stop, you stop. A shot over their bows usually convinces them. Britannia does rule the waves.
If the other captain has been less than friendly, the captains shout at each other through speaking trumpets across the water. If the other captain is civil, Captain Locke sends a boat over for him and has him to his cabin for a few snorts, which helps the conversation right along. One or another of us boys is always listening at the window, and it seems that LeFievre grows even more arrogant and has added more ships to his fleet. He burns all before him, be it village, town, or ship.
These nights I sleep in the old kip between the guns, with the boys in their hammocks swinging overhead. I don't want to be off alone again, as Sloat's old mates might not be of a forgiving nature. I beg off sleeping with Jaimy in our old hammock by saying that I don't like hammocks 'cause you got to sleep on your back in one and I like to curl up on my side.
Jaimy don't protest.
Chapter 29
The mood of the ship has lightened, what with Sloat gone and Bliffil restrained. Bliffil's recovered enough from his fight with Mr. Jenkins to start in to bullying the youngers again, but he don't mess with Jenkins no more. Mr. Jenkins tries to look out for the squeakers, but Bliffil is a sneaky one and he gets in his shots, though not as much as before 'cause now he knows someone may call him on it. I stay well out of his way, as his nose ain't quite so pretty no more and he knows who to blame.
The prospect of a port visit, too, especially one like Kingston is enough to lighten any sailor's load.
I'm stitching a line of white thread across the bodice of my dress to take the place of the lace, which the ship don't stock. The sun is high and bright in the afternoon watch, four bells I hear from down below, when I'm surprised to see Jaimy's head and shoulders coming up over the edge of the mizzen top. He don't say nothin' right off, just sits down lookin' miserable. I don't say nothin', neither.
"Why don't you come up in the foretop with the rest of us anymore?" he says finally.
I shake my head. "No, Jaimy. I just make all of you uncomfortable."
More silence.
"I'll bet you regret getting the Brotherhood tattoo now, don't you?" he says all sad and downcast.
We saw just how far that Brotherhood went, didn't we, I think, but I say, "No, I don't regret it. When I got it we was all mates and I'll always remember that time fondly."
Jaimy seems to be trying to say something to me but he just can't get it out.
"What do you want to say to me, Jaimy?" I put up my needle and look him in the eye. He won't meet my gaze.
"When I was mean to you ... I thought I ... I was becoming one of those sodomites," he says, the words not coming easy. "Not with anyone else. Just with you."
Well.
"You'll just have to get over that, won't you," says I, all brisk and cruel. "As it ain't natural."
I return to my sewing.
He don't say nothin' at all, not for a long while.
"I know it's not natural and I know I'll have to leave the Service," he finally manages to say, hardly above a whisper. "Good-bye, Jacky. None of it was your fault." He begins to rise.
"Wait," I say, getting to my feet. "Before you go, I want you to hold this up so I can measure it."
"Wh—What is it?" he asks, all confused with the turn in the conversation.
"A dress," I say.
"A dress? For whom?"
"For me. Now stand up."
As he gets up, I pull off my white overshirt and pop open the top four buttons of my vest. I run my hand over my hair, fluffing it up a bit in the light breeze. I take a deep breath. "Ah yes. That certainly feels better. Now, Jaimy, hold it up against me ... Take the dress, Jaimy, come on. Don't be shy, now. Tuck it up against my ribs ... Right, push it up there, while I mark it. Hold it now. There. Thanks."
He stands stunned.
I sit back down and resume sewing, but I don't put my shirt back on and I don't button up my vest. I look up at him. "What's the matter, Jaimy? Ain't-cha never seen a girl?"
It's a good ten minutes he stands there staring. Then he sits down for another ten minutes just lookin' at me. At last, he finds he can speak. He stands up.
"What are we going to do, Jacky?" he asks, all stupid.
I get to my feet. I face him, square on.
"Well, Jaimy," I says, "you can kiss me, if you love me."
PART IV
Shorn of Hope and by Hope Betrayed,
Yet by Hope Uplifted and by Hope Is Saved.
Chapter 30
Oh, and it's a different James Emerson Fletcher who walks the deck of His Majesty's Ship the Dolphin these past days. His step is quick and light and his head is high and his gaze is clear and fixed on far horizons, but he is not of this Earth. His mind is adrift and awash in the wonder of it all.
Me, too.
We have to be very careful because now I don't want to be put off the ship, not now, and though I know that I'm soon to be caught, I just want as much time as I can get right here right now with Jaimy, and that's all I'm thinkin' about. I ain't thinkin' any farther ahead than the next time we can be alone together in the mizzen top or on watch at night. Yes, I know we've got to be wary, just a little clutch and a kiss-me-quick here and there, but oh, Lord...
In my calm moments I realize that I am going to have to be the wise one of the pair of us. Jaimy, who is usually so upright and self-possessed and clearheaded, gets so carried away that he don't know what he's doin'. My own ardor is not to be discounted, but I know I've got to be strong 'cause I know what happens at the end. Mrs. Roundtree told me and I can't let it happen. Not yet, I can't.
I move back into the hammock. We've still got to sleep end to end to keep up appearances, for after all, Davy and Tink are right there, so it's the same as it was before. But now it's different, oh, yes, it's very different.
Tilly is teaching us some anatomy today. He has a large watercolor painting of the guts of a person—a male person. Jaimy is blushing for me, but I put on a look of keen scientific interest and run my toe up Jaimy's pant leg.
Tilly tells us what each of the organs are for and it hits me suddenly that he probably got the chart from one of those anatomists back in London. I try not to think any more about that as this may be someone I know. Or knew.
Still, it's good to know where the important guts are so as to be able to protect them when one is, say, down on the deck and being kicked. Next time it happens to me I'll make sure to squirm over and get my back to the wall to protect my kidneys. If I do that and curl up and cover my head with my hands and tuck my elbows into my belly, well, there's not much out there for them to kick.
"What are those two little things for, Mr. Tilden," I asks, pointing, and Jaimy gives me a kick and a look.
"Never you mind, Jack," says Tilly, looking at me as if I were beyond hope of redemption. "And you can stop with the silly smirking and grinning, you little fool. Remember, Jack, 'Whom the gods would destroy, they first make happy' Class dismissed."
And it's true. I am as happy as I have ever been, and I can only hope the gods cut me some slack. At least for a bit.
Willy is taken up as Ordinary Seaman. He's to be a Waister to start off, which means he'll work in the center part of the ship, on deck, and it's the lowest kind of seaman there is, but still it's seaman and not ship's boy and he gets full pay and a full share of prize money and a full ration of horse and biscuit and rum now, too. We're all happy for him and clap him on the back, and he swears he won't forget us in his new grand state and won't kick us even though it's now his right.
I take the seabag I was making for myself before everything changed and stitch wm. Simpson, seaman on the side, and we give it to him as a farewell present and he starts blubbering, good old Willy.
Jaimy and I force ourselves to sometimes go up on the foretop to be with Davy and Tink, all that's left now with Willy gone off to new duties and new mates. We talk and hang about like in old times, but all Jaimy and I want to do is be alone together, our arms and legs around each other and our lips mashed together and ... well ... We don't do that when the others are around, but that's all we're thinking about, so we ain't very good company.
I do come to my senses sometimes and insist that we act a little bit normal, so I send Jaimy away to hang about with the other sailors for appearances' sake, although it pains me to do so. Then I go up into the foretop with Davy and Tink, and I work on my cap.
My cap has a blue top that is gathered into a white headband on to which I have stitched hms dolphin. The blue top part is loose and floppy and roomy enough to stuff my hair up into. Davy swears that he will put a marlinespike in my belly and twist it if I wear that stupid thing in front of the Captain so that the Captain orders me to make them for all the boys, so that Davy his ownself has to wear the damned thing in front of the entire crew and so die of shame. Tink backs that up with a promise to gut me with a rusty knife if this comes to pass. I invite them to go do something unnatural to themselves and we fling curses back and forth, just like in the old days.
I fear discovery more than I fear either Tink or Davy, so now that I've completed my cap, I wear it constantly.