After Higgins is done with dinner and fussing over us, we spend our evenings doing the same singing and talking and fiddle playing and such, but also I read to her and we work on her studies. I have assigned her some work—I cannot help myself—whenever I discover someone in need of schooling, out come the ABC's and let's get down to it. It seems I have a need to do this. It also seems that Mairead has had some schooling and can read enough to get along. I am impressed and I tell her so.
When I ask how she came by this learning, she being out on the farm and all, she says, "Well, they had what was called Hedge Schools and what they'd do is set up benches in a field next to high hedges so we could hide and classes would be held and we'd take what we could from the lessons and go back home and study and show the little ones. On slates, or roofin' tiles, like."
"But why ever did you have to hide?" I ask.
"Why, it's against British law to educate Irish kids, surely you know that?" she says, amazed at my stupidity.
"I cannot believe what you say," I say, firmly convinced that my country would not do such a horrid thing. "England would not do that." I had heard from Amy back in the States that it was forbidden to teach slave children to read, but here?
"Believe what you want to believe, Miss," she says, puffing up, "but I was the one there with me butt on the bench and Padraic was the one standing at the back peerin' over the top of the hedge, him both listenin' to the teacher and keepin' an eye peeled for the magistrates. The teacher was dressed as a hog butcher in case anyone should come upon us. Bloodstained apron and all. And him a university man, too. That was the way of it, Miss Faber."
I am astounded.
***
Later, when I am in my nightgown and Mairead is wearing an extra one of mine, we climb up on my bed, turn off the lamp, rutch around, and settle in.
After a while, she sniffs and says, "I ain't goin' back to that, I ain't."
"Even if it's with Ian?" I ask back quietly in the dark.
She doesn't answer for a long time. I can hear only her breathing. "On a farm? I don't know," she finally says.
I find her shoulder and pat it. "Don't worry. Just go to sleep. I'm working out a plan and maybe you can be a part of it. We'll see. Sleep now. I've got the Four-to-Eight watch, you know. They'll wake me by calling down through that tube there," I say, tapping the shiny brass tube that snakes down over me, "but you can sleep through it. So good night, now."
I am working out a plan. I just need some more money before I can act on it.
Chapter 36
Liam stands with crossed arms on the fo'c'sle, just forward of the bowsprit, staring resolutely aft. He has a mighty scowl on his face 'cause he doesn't approve of this at all, but I had insisted and won out in the end.
The weather was warm and so was the water, and the netting under the bowsprit had been rigged and made secure. Some of the young ones had stripped down and gone into the netting to splash about in the water just as young men—and boys—always have done when on board ships with understanding captains. On the Dolphin, me and the other ship's boys—Davy, Tink, Willy, and ... him—used to do it every chance we could. Course I could only do it till I started to change into a woman, and then I couldn't do it anymore 'cause I'd have been found out as a girl and put off the ship.
So, figuring I'd be damned if the boys were going to have all the fun—listening to Ian and Padraic and Arthur and some others whooping and hollering up there was too much for me—I got Liam to clear the fo'c'sle and stand guard when the boys were done so's Mairead and I could have a turn at it without having our modesty compromised, like. Fair's fair, after all.
"And tell 'em to stay out of the Head, too. We don't want to be lookin' up at any nasty hairy butts hanging overhead," I order, as we go past Liam, wrapped in our cloaks, under which we have on our drawers and light undershirts.
Liam grunts in answer and we go out on the bowsprit walkway. The net below is really there not for fun but to catch any unlucky sailor who might fall off while tending to the fore-and-aft sails that are attached there. But fun is certainly to be had on it, as Mairead soon finds out.
We doff our cloaks and I show her how to climb down into the netting. It's a scary thing the first time you do it, but she's a game one and soon she's next to me down below in the belly of the net. Then the Emerald comes on a mighty rolling wave, lifts her nose high in the air. "Hang on, Mairead!" I shriek, and then down she plunges, right into the heart of the wave and everything is cool and green and bright.
We come up wet and gasping and I point and shout, "Look there's one!" and she looks over and is astounded to see a large dolphin swimming right next to us, eyeing us merrily, it seems. Dolphins always have this smiley look on their faces and they seem to enjoy this sport as much as we do.
"And another over here!" exults Mairead, looking like a veritable Irish mermaid with her red hair plastered about her laughing face.
"Open your eyes when we go down again and you'll see more of them!" I say, and down we plunge again. Sure enough, there seems to be about a dozen of the creatures gamboling about down there in the misty green depths below us.
The sea provides us with a fine set of rolling swells, but then calms down a bit, as it always seems to do, and Mairead and I climb back up a little higher in the netting and turn over on our backs to catch our breath and await the next batch of good waves.
Looking up we are treated to the sight of the bottom of the latrine. If I had my way, each man aboard would use a chamber pot like we ladies do and dump it demurely over the side, but, no, that is not the way of men. And so we see right above us, as we lie laughing in the netting, the round holes of the Seats of Ease as they are called—the latrine holes that are set out from the side of the head of the ship and so are called the Head. Mercifully, the hull of my Emerald has been scrubbed clean by the waves that crash about Mairead and myself, tumbling us about in their grasp, or else we should be disgusted.
"Oh, my God!" cries Mairead suddenly, crossing her arms across her breast. She frees one finger and points ... and there, not six feet away, is the grinning head of Arthur McBride, sticking upside down out of one of the Head holes. This apparition is soon joined by the face of Ian McConnaughey hanging in an adjacent hole.
"The cheek of the rascals!" I shout and cup a handful of water and throw it at Arthur's face. "Away with you now!"
The water hits his foolish face and he sputters and laughs, saying, "Do it again, Jacky, please, as water that comes from your own dear hands is like the very nectar to me face!" I stand up wobbly in the netting and put my finger in Arthur McBride's face.
"You get yourself and your face out of there, Arthur McBride! Ain't you got no sense of decency?"
"Oh, ho, I do, Jacky my love, and I do think you look right decent right now!"
I'm trying to keep a stern look on my face, but I ain't succeeding. The two idiots must be doing handstands on the benches up above and...
Suddenly Arthur McBride's face registers comical shock as he and his head are jerked upward. I suspect John Reilly or some other responsible member of my crew has discovered the prank and is taking care of it. I hear cries and sounds of struggle from above, but before Ian McConnaughey can be hauled back up to his own destruction, Mairead reaches up, grabs him by the ears, and plants a great, wet, salty kiss on his mouth. A moment later, he, too, disappears from sight, jerked up from above. Ah, but jerked up a much happier man than he was when first he stuck his head in that hole.
Mairead and I hug each other and howl with laughter. The Emerald dips down again, and again we are submerged in the green water. When we come back up, gasping, someone is yelling something at me.
"Sail, Jacky! A ship is coming through the Strait!"
I'm up on deck in an instant, my wet feet slapping on the deck as I run back to my cabin, with Mairead right behind me.
"Clear for action!" I call out just before I go through my door. "Higgins! Towels! Get my fighting rig!"
I rip my wet shirt off over my head and take the towel and rub myself with it, then off with the drawers and dry my lower half, then on with the gear. Within three minutes Higgins is strapping on my sword belt. Stuffing my pistols in their holsters, I say, "Mairead, you stay down here!" and head back out on deck.
"Oooohhh, just look at him, so plump and helpless," I marvel. "Is he asking to be taken by such as us?"
"He probably was in convoy with an escort," says Liam, "but I suspect the escort was called away to deal with Nelson's fleet and this one decided to chance it and keep going rather than duck into port."
"Bad luck for him, then." I put down my glass and shout, "Muster the Boarding Party port side! Sully, fire when you get close enough!" The ayes come back quick and sharp—this looks to be a nice prize, maybe our best one yet.
"He came out hugging the African shore, I suppose to stay as far away from the guns of Gibraltar as possible."
"Is he Spanish?"
"I think so, from the shape of him. He changed flags a little while ago—I think that's a Maltese one he's got up now—he did it when he saw by our change of course that we were interested in him, but that ain't gonna help him. We'll find out what he is when we board. If he's a friendly or a neutral, we'll let him go with our compliments, but I don't think so..."
There's a crack! and a puff of smoke, which blows back over us as Sully fires the bow gun. I've come to like the smell of gunpowder—it smells to me of money.
The ball falls short, but not by much. The prize turns to the right, and when we see that, Liam gives the order to the helm and sees to the new set of the sails while I holler out, "Boarding Party to the starboard side! Get ready, boys!"
The prize is trying to run, but he's just too slow, and yes! there's a golden crucifix on his mainmast! He is a Spaniard!
The crew of the prize is running about in total confusion—I don't think they even have a single gun mounted—what did I do to deserve such good fortune? A moment later the prize slacks its sails and heaves to under our lee and waits for us to board, which we waste no time doing. The hooks are thrown, the ships pulled together and I'm up on the rail and over, sword drawn and looking for the Captain.
There he is, looking grim over by his helm, as my lads swarm over his ship, taking possession. He takes one look at me and says Dios! I bow to him and manage to make him understand that he and his men will not be harmed, and then there's a flash of red hair at my side and it is not Padraic's. Mairead is standing there with the hilt of a cutlass held in both hands. She points the thing at the amazed Captain.
"Stand and Deliver!" she says, and then grins at me. "I always wanted to say that."
Chapter 37
I rein in the horse and look out over the port of Harwich, where my beautiful Emerald lies at anchor a few hundred yards off the quay. I can never look upon her without my chest swelling with joy and pride. I know that pride is a sin, and Pride Goeth Before a Fall, but I can't help it.
The prize lies off to the left of us, in the hands of her new owners, who are fitting her out for the transatlantic trade, this time with guns. Smart move, I'm thinking.