"What? Because I threw a bit of a scare into those two rotters? They certainly had it coming, what they planned to do, what they did to me! You spend the night stuffed into a tiny box and see how charitable you feel about those who put you there!"
"I'm sorry, Miss. They should not have hurt you and they should not have been inciting the Indians to riot. However, if you begin adopting the practices of bad people, you run the danger of becoming one yourself. I'll say no more on it."
"Y'know, Higgins, it's sometimes hard traveling with your conscience right by your side, always ready to appeal to your better nature, a nature you might not even have."
"Please don't pout. It doesn't become you. I merely ask you to think about what I said."
"I'm not sorry. When I think of little kids being ... no, I'm not sorry."
"Very well, Miss. There, I believe that's the best we can do with this. You are presentable, at least, and can now go and present yourself to Richard ... er ... Captain Allen," he says, putting up his comb.
Grrrrr. Why can you always see right through me, Higgins?
I stand and get a final brush off.
"Will you come with me, Higgins? As my protector?"
"Of course, Miss. Let us go."
I rap on the cabin top of the prison boat. "Truce! For a parley! Agreed?"
There is a pause, then Captain Allen growls, "Agreed."
I unlock the door and enter the hatchway and Higgins follows.
Allen is seated at the table, again with his booted feet up in a chair. He looks at me in my lieutenant's rig and I'm pleased to see that his eyebrows lift as far as they are able to do so. He gets up and bows, the ghost of a smile on his face.
"That's much better," I say. "May I present my First Mate, Mr. John Higgins? Mr. Higgins, Captain Lord Richard Allen, Royal Dragoons." The two exchange slight bows. "Mr. Higgins distinguished himself at the Battle of Trafalgar and is quite expert with those pistols you see." I had doffed my pistol belts back in the cabin, figuring them to be a bit too much. "Shall we be seated?"
We sit down and I continue. "We are here to discuss your parole. Will you give your solemn promise that you will not try to harm us if we let you out of here?" The other men are grouped in the rear, with some probably stretched out in the cabins. I'm sure they are listening avidly.
"And what will we get in return?"
"The freedom of this boat. You will be allowed to steer and row it and remain in our company. You not having weapons, I would advise you to stay close to us in this wild land so that we might protect you."
"That's not much."
"I think it is all you could hope for. After all, this is my boat now. It is a prize. Do you have a name for it, Captain?"
"No."
"Then I name it Britannia, since it contains eight fine, valiant servants of the King." I hear a snort or two from the rear. "You will not offer us a glass of wine? Our throats are dry from today's sport."
He barks out a laugh. "We drank it all up during our courtship, don't you remember, Princess Pretty-Bottom?" More snickers from the back.
"Ah, well," replies this princess, "we have ample stores of good food and drink, and we shall share. There is that to consider. I assume your stores are both low and mean." Grunts from the rear.
"All right," says Allen to his soldiers, "that's enough out of you!" There is silence aft. "Will you give the money back?"
"Why? So you can use it to buy the scalps of innocent women and children?"
"I am not in the market for any scalps. Except perhaps yours."
"You shan't get it."
"We'll see. I should be most honored and pleased to add your scalp—your figurative, metaphorical scalp, of course—to my belt." He looks at me with a merry impudence. Just who is the conquered one here?
"I think you have had too much education, Lord Allen, and I suspect it was all wasted on you."
"Too true. I am educated, but in any exchanges I have had with you, I must confess I feel myself an educated fool."
"This will further your education, then. I am promised in marriage to Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher, Royal Navy, and I intend to honor that pledge." I stick my nose in the air and assume the Lawson Peabody Look.
"And just where is this fine lieutenant who has brought the formidable Jacky Faber to heel? Is he hereabouts, so that I might run him through quickly and cleanly and so relieve you of the onerous burden of your pledge of maidenly fidelity, which I'm sure was a hasty one?"
My face is beginning to burn, as I feel I am losing in this exchange. "Well, will you give your parole?"
"Will you give us back our weapons, if I do?"
"No."
"Then I will not. We are soldiers and we do not like being defenseless."
"Then good day to you, Sir. Suffer your confinement for your stubbornness. Higgins, let us go."
"Adieu, my little woodland sprite." He does not get up as we exit.
I stomp out of the Britannia in total retreat. Fine, Mr. Captain Richard Lord Allen! Sit down there in the gloom with your sullen men and listen to the revels that will resound from the Belle of the Golden West this night. Oh, yes, I will make sure the music is loud and the laughter is wild and joyous, oh yes, and it will continue far, far into the night. Count on it!
Chapter 55
"Katy, did Lightfoot give you anything when he got back from the Indian village?" I ask. It's morning and we're down in our cabin getting ready for the day. Katy is washing up and I'm combing out Clementine's hair and getting ready to put it in braids. We're all a bit groggy from last night's celebration, which went on far into the night. We had pulled the Britannia up next to us when we anchored for the night and grappled her tight to our side so that the soldiers therein could fully appreciate what they were missing. I made sure the fiddling, harpsichording, singing, and general carousing were as loud as I could possibly make them. I also made a point of singing "As We Marched Down to Fennario" loud and clear, especially to gall Richard Lord Allen. Or so I fondly hoped.
"No. Why would Lightfoot want to give me something?"
Why, that bashful dolt! He'd fight ten men, wrestle a mountain lion, and kill a bear with his bare hands, yet he can't give a present to a girl!
"Oh, nothing, Katy. Just asking, is all. There, Clementine, you are done." I pat her on both shoulders. "I think Jim Tanner could use a nice strong cup of tea." She hops up and darts out of the cabin.
"Could you stay here a moment, Katy? I'll be right back. Thanks."
I leave the cabin barefoot, dressed in my Indian skirt and light cotton shirt, my intended costume for the rest of this voyage, as it is the coolest possible outfit I have that still stays within the admittedly loose bounds of propriety that manage to exist on board the Belle. Hell, in this heat I'd go starkers, but for sure that wouldn't wash, not even here.
I find Lightfoot up forward, crouched with Chee-a-quat, sharpening knives. They have done their own and are now honing Crow Jane's.
"Lightfoot, how come you didn't give Katy Deere those presents you got for her when you got back to the boat?"
Lightfoot rises to his feet and towers over me. Could he be blushing?
"Uh ... didn't seem right. We hadn't gotten you back yet."
"I've been back almost a full day now."
"Well ... uh ... I..."
"Do you want me to give 'em to her?"
"Yup."
"All right, hand 'em over."
Lightfoot ducks into the open hatchway to the main cabin and shortly returns with the quiver and the buckskin dress. He thrusts them at me and then returns to sit with Chee-a-quat.
I go see Katy Deere.
She is done washing and sits looking expectantly at me when I come into the cabin bearing gifts. "These are from Lightfoot," I say, handing her the quiver of arrows and laying the beaded skirt and shirt on her bed, spread out so she can see them. "He asked me to tell you that he's willin'. Those were his words."
She smiles slightly as she draws one of the finely crafted arrows from the quiver and then chuckles, "Well, I'll be durned."
I turn and leave Katy Deere with her new treasures and, undoubtedly, some very new things to ponder.
"She didn't say anything," I report to Lightfoot. "But she took 'em."
When he doesn't say anything, I say, "You've got to give a girl time, Lightfoot, especially a girl like Katy."
"Wah," he replies, and turns back to his knives.
I give Pretty Saro a bit of an ear scratch and then climb up on the cabin top and take a seat at my table. I am thankful for the canopy overhead, shielding me from the fierce sun, and I am ever so grateful to be back here at my usual station, free once again.
Seeing Higgins emerge from the main cabin, I catch his eye and he comes to my side.
"Good morning, Miss. I trust you slept well."
"Like a baby, secure in the company of my dearest friends. Please have a seat, Higgins, as we've got to talk."
He sits, folds his hands on the table, and waits for me to begin.
"We're stretched too thin, having to manage four, sometimes eight, sweeps with our little crew. We've got to do something about it."
Higgins nods, looking over both the Belle and the Britannia.
"You could release the other boat and let them make their own way downriver."
"I could, but I don't want to leave them unarmed and helpless in this wilderness. But on the other hand, I don't want to give them back their guns—Captain Allen might feel honor bound to try to capture me. After all, I am a wanted fugitive. I know he wouldn't do it for the reward, but he might do it out of a sense of duty. No, I must have his parole."
"Do you think he would stand by his word, if he gave it?"
"He could have ravished me when I was a bound captive and he didn't, though I know he very much wanted to."
"Hmm. Well, that's commendable. Is he really a lord? I heard you call him that."
"Aye. He portrays himself as the black sheep of the family."
"Umm."
We both sit and mull over the problem for a while, then Higgins says, "You'll remember, Miss, that during yesterday's discussion with Captain Allen, he asked if you would return the money and you refused."
"Right. It goes against my nature to return plunder."
"I know. But consider this: I have counted the money and it is not much—only eight hundred and ninety American dollars. We have been making steady money on our way down these rivers. What with the Cave-in-Rock loot, the income from the performances, the house percentage from Mr. Cantrell's games, and the tavern sales, we are quite well-fixed. We shall be able to pay off everybody when we get to New Orleans and book quite comfortable ship passage to anywhere you might like to go."
"We'll be even better off if we keep that money."
"Yes, but I will say again that this is Crown money. If you are ever taken by the British government, you could make a strong case against the piracy charge, since you had the Letter of Marque. Your seizing of the Emerald could be justified, too, because as commander of the Wolverine, you felt it was your fair share of the prizes. But if you keep the scalp money, you would not be able to argue against a charge of common theft of the King's treasure. There would never be a hope of acquittal or of pardon. I say it's not worth it."