Home > The Wake of the Lorelei Lee(11)

The Wake of the Lorelei Lee(11)
Author: L.A. Meyer

I sit, and so does Higgins.

"You've got fifteen minutes," says Toad, and he takes himself to the other end of the table and sits down, his gimlet eye on the both of us.

I clasp my hands on the tabletop and cry, "Oh, Higgins, you can't know how good it is to see you!" Then I start in to blubberin'. "Don't look at me, Higgins, or get close to me. I am filthy and unclean."

"It is not your fault, Miss. I know that. However, we have some things to cover in our allotted time and we should get to it," says Higgins. "But first you must have a bite to eat." He unfolds a waxed parchment upon which lie several strips of beef smothered in a rich brown gravy. The aroma of finely roasted cuts of tenderloin hits my nose like a hammer. Oh, Glory!

I gasp and reach for a piece, but Frogger comes up beside me and stays my hand.

"Nay, this warn't part of the deal." And with that, he reaches in with his filthy fingers and scoops up three of the pieces and shoves 'em in 'is mouth. The Toad, seein' the fun, nips alongside and scoops up the rest, then drops 'em in his gob, leavin' only a few streaks of the gravy on the paper.

I look at it, all forlorn, and am thinking about licking it out.

"No," says Higgins, knowin' my inclination. "Don't give them the satisfaction. It cost us a good bit of our declining fortunes in the way of bribes for me even to get in here, so let it go. You will be gone from here tomorrow and that will be the end of your stay in this ... place."

Gone? Oh, joy!

I lift my eyebrows in question.

Higgins folds his hands on the tabletop and says, "I have already given you the good news, in that you will be delivered tomorrow afternoon from this place, which, by the way, does bear a distinct resemblance to the sixth level of hell. But I also have some other news that you might find hard to swallow. Are you ready?"

I sit up straight and nod, hands and shackles in lap.

"First, you are to be taken from here, along with about two hundred and fifty other women and girls, and put on a ship bound for the penal colony in New South Wales, Australia."

"I knew that, Higgins, as that was my sentence for my supposed crimes against the Crown of England," I say, feeling that my crimes were not all that horrid as to warrant a life sentence to God knows where. "But why are they so interested in transporting us worthless females?"

He takes a breath, then says, "Speaking plain, you are being brought there as breeders, pure and simple. England, having lost the American colonies, needs another place to expand—a place to put their overflow of petty criminals, revolutionaries, and troublemakers of all kinds, and maybe a place where honest folk could thrive, too. There are a lot of men there right now, and if you toss in a lot of women, then you will have a multitude of children and then maybe you might even have a country someday.

"Even as we speak"—Higgins's voice is muffled by the scented handkerchief he brings to his nose to disguise the stench of the place—"England is combing the prisons, brothels, and slums for women to fulfill just such a noble purpose."

"A far-seeing race is us Brits," I say. Me, I can usually see only as far as my own nose and my immediate needs, which, of course, are always considerable.

"Indeed, Miss, we are a race blessed with foresight. Legend has it that when College Hall at the University of Oxford was built, in 1379, acorns from the oak trees that were used to make the high vaulted beams of the ceilings were planted in a special grove, to insure that in four hundred years, when the original beams would need to be replaced, ample wood of the same stock would be available. Now, that is foresight," he says, and then stops talking for a few moments. "But I digress."

I know you do, Higgins. You are avoiding something. I wait for more bad news, which I know is coming.

"Ahem. Yes, Miss..." And here he pauses again. "You know you are to be transported, but you do not know this..."

"Yes?"

"Your ship, Miss..."

"I know, the Crown has taken her. She is no longer mine."

No longer my fine, fine treasure...

"Yes, but not only that—"

"What are they going to do to her? Burn her? Turn her into a garbage scow?"

Higgins takes a breath, and then goes on. "No, Miss. The Lorelei Lee has been sold to the East India Company, and they have been contracted to transport a certain group of female convicts to the penal colony in New South Wales."

It hits me and I gasp. "What? I am to be taken in bondage to Botany Bay on my own goddamned ship?"

"I am afraid so, Miss. I perceive that the Admiralty has a fine sense of irony. That and the fact that you outfitted the ship so perfectly to carry a large number of passengers. There is a good deal of irony in that, also."

I hate irony.

I fume as I ponder this. Then I think more on it and say, "This might be a good thing, Higgins, for it will give me a measure of comfort to be on her, if only in a reduced capacity ... and I will have my ship back, I will..."

"I am happy that you view it so, Miss."

"All right, then," I say, collecting myself from the last blow. "But I know there is something else, isn't there, Higgins? Something you haven't told me..."

He looks down at his hands and nods, but says only, "Several things..."

"Jaimy."

There, I have spoken his name and let it hang in the air. Why did I not ask of him before? Because I was afraid to hear the answer...

"Where has he been? Why has he not come to see me? Why was he not at my trial? Why...?"

Higgins takes yet another deep breath. "Steady, Miss, for I must inform you that he is being held in the naval prison at Portsmouth, awaiting court-martial."

I bury my face in my hands and bawl. Oh, Jaimy, no, not you!

Higgins's strong hands grasp my shaking shoulders and hold them tight till I subside a bit.

"Wh-wh-what is the charge?" I manage to stammer.

"Conspiracy to Defraud the King of His Rightful Property."

What?

"Lieutenant Flashby has made sworn testimony to the effect that Mr. Fletcher colluded with you in the misappropriation of gold from the Santa Magdalena. Lieutenant Bliffil adds to the lies, contending that he heard the two of you laying plans for the theft"

"The lyin' bastards! Jaimy knew nothing of my scheme! Bliffil wasn't even there! And I didn't even have any idea of the project until we were well into the salvage of the Santa Magdalena! When is the court-martial?"

"In two weeks."

"When does the Lorelei Lee leave?"

"In about a week."

"So am I to leave and cross the Southern Ocean never to find out Jaimy's fate? How can I live with that? How could they be so cruel?"

Oh, Jaimy, how much better your life would have been had you never met me!

Higgins considers this and then says, "If convicted, his punishment would not be as harsh as yours, I do not think. Remember, it is Flashby's word against his, and Mr. Fletcher has an excellent service record. He is highly regarded by every captain he has served under, and those who can be made available will testify to that. Captain Hudson, for sure. Furthermore, he is an officer of the line of battle, while Flashby and Bliffil are merely intelligence officers. The admirals and captains who sit in judgment will also be much scarred and battle-tested line officers, and their sympathies would lie with Lieutenant Fletcher, one of their own."

I clench my fists and think hard on this.

"It may be," I say, thanking Higgins silently for, as always, softening the blows that come at me. "But only if Jaimy can hold his temper when that damned Flashby stands up and tells his lies. I can tell you it was hard for me to take, that day in the courtroom, and I was ... well ... sort of guilty. It will be harder for Jaimy, who is totally innocent. He had nothing to do with it—I didn't even let you in on it till afterward, when the expedition was done and we were about to head for Boston."

"Yes, Miss. I know."

If only Jaimy can hold his temper!

"We have but a few more minutes, Higgins," I say, trying to calm myself but beginning to tear up again, for I know he will soon be gone and I will be back in the cell. I must now ask him to do some things, to put some things in order.

"Please, Higgins, if you would, go back to Boston and take over the helm of Faber Shipping. I hereby give you all the remaining shares in the corporation. I will sign a paper to that effect. So many people now depend upon that business, little as it now is. Get Ezra to—"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Miss."

"Oh," I say, confused. "Why not?"

"Because I have taken other employment."

I gasp and lower my head. Oh, Higgins, I cannot bear to lose you! I collect myself and say, "Of course, John, you must do what's best for you now that my silly house of cards has collapsed, probably for good and ever. Give me your hand in farewell, dearest friend, in hopes that we might meet again in gladder times. Oh, I so wish it!" Tears pour from my eyes as I squeeze his hand and press it to my wet cheek.

"You may have my hand, Miss, but do not despair of seeing me." Through the blear of tears I see the glint of his teeth in the gloom.

"What...? Why...?"

"I have signed on as steward to Captain Augustus Laughton of the Lorelei Lee. I have met the captain and I've found him to be an affable man."

Apparently my face betrays incomprehension, so he goes on to clarify things.

"You see, Miss, I am going with you."

My mouth is agape.

"But why, Higgins?" I manage to gasp. "You are a rich man now. You could set yourself up quite comfortably. Why would you do this? You musn't! I have left nothing but confusion and waste and destruction in my wake!"

He smiles his perfect smile. "Yes, but much joy and excitement, as well. I'm afraid I can never go back to being a simple valet to a rich man. It would be just too ... boring. No, Miss, you have led me onto the path of adventure, and from that path I cannot retreat."

Once again I place my face in my hands and sob.

"Besides, if they have arrested you and Mr. Fletcher, it is possible that the judiciary will soon cast a wider net, and it is possible that it will be my turn next. I fear that I, too, would not be able to give a court a plausible explanation for my sudden wealth." He pauses, looks about, and sniffs. "I also know that I could not abide a less-than-clean prison cell. I fear the men's prison is not any better than this, and I believe I would find neither the accommodations nor the company all that ... charming."

"Who shall run Faber Shipping?" I ask, still astounded.

"I have written to Mr. Pickering, informing him of the recent events. We both know he is a very competent man. He will handle things."

I ponder this. "You must get another letter off to Ezra before we go. Tell Davy and Tink to lie low, very low. They are to do the Caribbean run only and must stay close to the shore. No telling what lies Flashby has told about them, too, and Davy is still technically in the British Navy. Give everybody my love and tell Amy not to worry."

"Yes, Miss. Although that last request is a vain one."

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