"Maybe so, but I must tell you, Sir, that I don't like the sight of all those armed braves strutting around. And here we are, sitting on a box of money. They've all got guns, too. Hell, I thought they was all supposed to be carrying bows and arrows. Or spears. Damn! And where's that damned Allen, who's supposed to be providing for our safety? Off chasing some skirt, no doubt, the randy bastard!"
"Sergeant Bailey did say something about there being a white girl in this camp."
"Oh? And how old?"
"Midteens, Bailey thinks. Small, but full-grown. Quite pretty, too, I hear. Doesn't speak English. Probably captured as a baby after her family was slaughtered."
"Hmmm..."
"Put that out of your mind. We are well acquainted with your own reputation as regards the ladies, Flashby."
Flashby! That's why he looked so familiar! He's that cove what tried to drag my passed-out drunken body off to do me on that black day back at Dovecote! Of course he would end up in some dirty business like this!
"If you want to keep your hair, I suggest that you'd best wait till we get back to the fleshpots of New Orleans."
Now I'm really gonna have to stay out of sight! If he gets a glimpse of me...
There is a growl of assent from Flashby. "Aye, aye, Mr. Moseley, but I hope she gives the arrogant son of a bitch a good dose of the clap."
The older man laughs. "She might at that, we shall see. But right now I'm hungry. See if Private Quimby can whip us up some decent rations. I'll be damned if I'll eat that Indian slop—ain't hungry enough to eat stewed dog. Not yet, anyway."
I've heard enough. I tap Tepeki on the shoulder and we quietly get up and go back to join the other girls. I've got a lot to think about.
It turns out that the girls are now keen on having that swim that was denied us earlier, and so we all charge on down to the women's bathing place. After what I have just heard, I could use a good cleansing bath. Plus, the girls-only nature of the women's bathing spot makes it a good place for me to lay low and stay out of Flashby's sight.
We strip down on the bank and hang our clothes on nearby branches. I am truly fond of the buckskin outfit the girls have given me, and I fold it over carefully, as I intend this to be my costume for the rest of the journey down the river.
After getting some ooohs and ahhs over the nature of my skin, hair, and, of course, tattoo, I plunge into the water and join the frolic, putting the rest of the day out of my mind.
We have a merry time of it, hooting and splashing about, and after a bit, my feet find that there's a quite deep channel next to a high part of the bank. Taking a deep breath, I dive under for a look.
The water is quite clear, and I see no obstructions—roots, branches, or the like—in the deep under the bank. There are some holes in the underwater bank that are probably the entrances of some creature's den, but they ain't bothering me, so I shan't worry about them. I dive down further and see some clamlike things sticking upon the bottom. Hmm... I'll wager I ate some of those things in the last stew I had. I kick around the bottom a bit more, and when I've been down about a minute I shoot back up to the surface.
I'm astounded to see Tepeki's worried face in front of me, her black hair streaming about her face. Hey, I was only down for a minute or so. I look downstream and see that some are combing the shallows for my drowned body. Tepeki's expression changes to one of anger. I sign sorry and then Sister. She looks stern and then forgives me, throwing her slippery arms about my neck in relief. I return the hug and then clamber out of the water and go up onto the high bank.
I decide to give them my backflip first. Feet together, arms held out forward, I bend my knees and spring backward, legs overhead, and then feetfirst into the water. Not too bad, I'm thinking. Could use a little more height, though. When I come back to the surface, I get hoots and a few yiyiyiyiyis by way of applause. I climb back out, intending to treat them to my swan dive. This so reminds me of my time in my beautiful lagoon, back when I was marooned in South America.
Gaining the bank, I put my toes over the edge, heels together, and arch my back and extend my arms gracefully out to the side.
I see shocked looks from those below. What? This isn't that shocking? It's just a dive, and it's a lot easier one than the backflip ... But then I realize that it ain't me they're lookin' at. I smell the unmistakable odor of tobacco wafting from behind me and I look over my shoulder. There stands, smoking his usual cheroot, Captain Richard Allen, a broad smile on his face.
"I think I was hasty before in naming you She-Is-Pretty-Thing. I now think that She-Has-Saucy-Tail would be much more appropriate. Or would Pretty-Bottom be more to your liking?"
I can't let him see my tattoo! is my only thought and concern as I hastily dive into the water, much less elegantly than I had planned. I hit the water and go down to the bottom to think for a second. Did I stupidly speak in English when I was showing off before the girls? Had he been hiding in the bushes the whole time and spot my tattoo? I don't know, I only know I've got to go up for air eventually, and so I kick off the bottom and resurface, showing only the bridge of my nose and my furious eyes, which I fix on the arrogant Captain Allen.
Matching me for fury is Tepeki who, with a fine string of what I assume are Shawnee curses, sends a little kid off to get someone to set this interloper straight, and then charges out of the water herself, picks up a handful of mud, and wings it at the officer, who steps aside to avoid the missile.
"Now, now, Pocahontas, settle down. I'll be gone long before that old squaw you sent the little brown dumpling off for comes down and chases me off ... But you know, you're a right handsome one, too, Pocahontas ... Ah, yes, a man could have a real good time here. 'Tis a pity I can't tarry." He takes the cigar out of his mouth and points the slippery wet end at me. "You, I'll see later," and he turns and walks unhurriedly off.
I rise up and watch him saunter away.
The insufferable cheek of that man!
Chapter 50
We are getting ready to leave. At breakfast, when I deliver their bowls to the men, Lightfoot looks up at me and says, "Stay."
I look at him and raise my eyebrows in question.
"That Katy girl," he begins, and I swear he looks embarrassed, shy, even. "I-I got her these." And he holds up a finely tooled and decorated leather quiver that is full of arrows. "Our best arrow-maker, old Sequi-tan, made these. Ain't none better. Think she'll like 'em?"
I smile at his discomfort—the strong and brave mountain man Lightfoot, who could kill ten men without blinking, all fumble-mouthed when talking to a girl about another girl.
"I think she'll like 'em just fine, Lightfoot," I answer. "But when it comes to girls..." I finger the collar of my fine buckskin shirt and the hem of my fine buckskin skirt.
"Ah," he says, taking my meaning.
"She's about the same size as Tako-hah-yoe," I say as I leave the tepee. He nods. She's a Shawnee girl I know from our swimming sessions whose name means Willow-tree, and she's probably the tallest girl in the camp.
***
Had it not been for the fact that Lightfoot had to go hunt up the outfit he wished to give to Katy, we would have left right after breakfast, but as it was, I had time to go look up Tepeki to say good-bye. I found her looking for me in the center of the village.
"Wah-ho-tay, Wah-chinga," she says by way of greeting, and I return the greeting, and we join hands, and I lead her toward the backs of the outlying tepees yet again. I intend to have one more listen to the agents to see if anything was decided last night in the big powwow. They were all at it far into the night, I know, but since Tecumseh's tepee was square in the center of the town, with people all about, I knew I couldn't just plop down and listen in as I did at Blue Hand's abode.
I lie down for a last listen. If I find that Tecumseh agrees with the agents' fiendish scheme, we'll have to spread the alarm to warn settlers as we take the Belle down the river. Tepeki lies down beside me.
"Dammit to hell, Flashby, why can't these damned savages ever make up their minds?"
"Probably figures he's got to go on a vigil first," says the other man, "have some sort of heathen vision to show him the way."
Good. It seems that Tecumseh hasn't yet agreed to do their murdering for them.
"Aye, and it's all up to him, too. If he goes along with it, the others will follow and—"
"What have we here, now?" says a voice above me. "Captain Allen, come look!"
Uh-oh...
I'm shocked to see a pair of shiny black boots next to my face. I try to get to my feet to make a run for it, but one of the boots is lifted and placed in the middle of my back, pinning me to the ground. I hear Tepeki getting up and running away.
"What's going on out there?" demands Moseley from inside the tent.
"Caught that little white girl sneakin' around back o' yer tent, Sir," says Sergeant Bailey, the owner of the heavy foot that holds me down. I'm having trouble breathing.
"Prolly lookin' to steal something. Like the rest of them thievin' savages," says Bailey.
Yes, yes! That's it! Please believe that and let me go!
More pairs of boots come into my vision.
"Why, I'll be damned, if it isn't Pretty-Tail," says a voice I recognize as Captain Allen's. He squats down next to me and peers into my face. "Were you looking to steal something, sweetheart? Hmmm? Or were you just looking for me?"
I turn my face the other way, but when I see Flashby and Moseley coming around the tepee, I turn back to Allen so they can't see my face.
"So what is this?" asks Moseley.
Captain Allen stands up. "The sergeant thinks he's caught himself a thief. Me, I think she was just curious about the white folk."
"She seemed to be listening under your tent, Sir," says the obstinate Sergeant Bailey.
"I thought she didn't understand English," says Flashby.
"Well, stand her up and let's have a look at her."
Sergeant Bailey takes his foot from my back and I roll to the side, leap up, and go to run, but his hand catches me by the neck and holds me fast. And I'm wishing that my hair were not in tight braids so it could hang about my face. My worst fears are realized.
"Oh, my God." This from Flashby, and I know I am lost.
Flashby comes grinning up to me and places his hand on my shoulder. "In my capacity as a lieutenant in the Royal Navy on detached duty with British Intelligence, I arrest you, Jacky Faber, in the name of His Majesty King George the Third of England."
"Whatever are you going on about, Flashby?" asks Moseley, irritably. While I am sweating buckets, to him this is just an annoyance.
"Well, Sir, this female is the wanted criminal, the notorious Jacky Faber, and I have just made myself a neat two hundred and fifty pounds sterling by her capture," crows Flashby with great satisfaction. "Surely, Sir, you remember the notice the Admiralty has been circulating? The wanted posters stating the reward? They have been most anxious to get their hands on this girl, and now they shall have her. As will I." He puts his finger on my nose. "You and I have some unfinished business to attend to as well, as I'm sure you recall."
"Come now, Flashby, what would a criminal wanted in England be doing deep in the wilds of America?" asks Captain Allen.