"Umm ... My Errant Mistress is always thinking, even when she is being wildly irresponsible."
"I try to be good, Higgins," I say, for the hundreth time, nuzzling my nose behind his ear. "I do."
"I thought that being respectful of local customs was part of Faber Shipping Worldwide's charter."
I give him a glower in the darkness. "My good conscience was not with me."
"That is because you contrived to get yourself lost. You are lucky the Captain is of a forgiving sort."
"Forgiving? He had me beaten."
"The Captain has his vices, but he is not stupid. I'm sure he saw through our little farce today. He knew I would treat you lightly, but he did have to make a show of punishing you."
I roll over and sigh. "But, oh, Higgins, what a wonderful place! I would so love to visit again!"
"Well, at least you did not return with a ring in your nose."
"That was an option at one of the shops, actually, and I did consider it, Higgins, but I demurred. I heard Mistress Pimm whispering in my ear that it would not be at all ... seemly."
"A wise decision, for a change."
I feel sleep coming and murmur, "Goodnight, husband. You do take such very good care of me."
Chapter 41
James Fletcher, Convict
Onboard Cerberus
Someplace Very Hot
Jacky Faber
Onboard another prison ship Someplace as hot and as vile, I suspect
Dearest Jacky,
I hope you are well and in good spirits, but I am sorry to report that ours are beginning to flag. The treatment grows more savage by the day, the food worse, the water more putrid, the meat more rotten. I do not know how much more we can take. Twelve men have already died from the maltreatment, their bodies taken out of the foul hold and thrown overboard without ceremony.
I am glad, in a way, that these messages to you are of an ethereal nature and not written down on paper, as I do not like coming off as a complaining scrub—additionally, I would not wish to burden you with our trials, knowing full well that you have travails of your own.
I fear we grow dispirited, and I know we must do something, something to give us some hope. I wracked my brains over this and then I recalled those belaying pins I had seen during exercise, lying carelessly in the scuppers.
Considering this, I drew the lads about me last night.
"Boys. We have to take heart, else we must lie down to die dishonored deaths. We must gather weapons, however crude they might be. I am sure you have noticed the sloppy way of things up there..."
There are grunts of assent in the darkness. Many curses are laid upon the heads of our jailers, many imprecations cast as to the morals of their mothers.
I lay out my plan, concluding with, "We shall need a diversion."
"Oh, you want a diversion, Mr. Fletcher? Well, next exercise you'll get one, won't he, Arthur?" says Padraic. I sense him grinning in the dark. "We'll sing the good Sergeant and the fine Corporal a little bit of a song, won't we, Arthur?"
"That we shall, Padraic. Oh, yes, we shall."
I don't ask, for I know they will not tell.
The next day, after the morning swill, we are once again hauled up on deck for exercise and airing, and while we are shuffled around the hatch top, once again Second Mate Travis Hollister falls in beside me to talk.
"So, Fletcher, how are you holding up?"
"I am able to sit up and take nourishment, Sir," I answer, somewhat churlishly. "Thank you for your concern."
"Ah, well, cheer up, James, it shan't be too long now. We enter the Strait of Malacca in the Dutch East Indies tomorrow and should be at New South Wales within two months."
I still recall my old jailhouse partner Mike Fink bellowing at me that I should be able to do a mere two months' confinement standing on my head with my thumb up my rear ... But never mind, Jacky. You should not be subjected to such crude talk.
"Yes. I can see from the angle of the sun that we are well past India. But thank you, Sir, for the more precise fix. It eases my mind a bit to know where we are."
What I am worried about is Hollister's presence at this spot right now. He simply cannot be here when I try for the belaying pin. I glance over at Padraic and catch his eye. Not yet, lad, wait for my signal ... If not today, then tomorrow...
Just then First Mate Block climbs up to the quarterdeck and takes over the watch. Hollister leaves, and goes below.
With some relief, I nod to Padraic.
"Shall we sing a song, then, lads, to brighten our spirits this fine day?" he loudly asks. "And perhaps lighten the hearts of dear Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vance in the process? Of course we shall."
The Sergeant and the Corporal, clubs clutched in hand, listen to this without expression, and wait.
With that, Padraic Delaney begins.
Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride,
As we went a-walkin down by the seaside,
Mark now what followed and what did betide,
For it bein on Christmas mor-ning.
Padraic looks over at Arthur McBride, who picks up the tune.
Now, for recreation, we went on a tramp,
And we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vance
And a little wee drummer intending to camp,
For the day bein' pleasant and char-ming.
"Good morning, good morning," the Sergeant did cry.
"And the same to you, gentlemen," we did reply,
Intending no harm but meant to pass by,
For it bein' on Christmas mor-ning.
It appears the song's lyrics concern a recruitment detail trying to sign up poor hapless Irish youth for the battles in Portugal, France, and Spain. The Sergeant and the Corporal are beginning to look concerned, as Padraic picks it up again.
"But,," says he, "My fine fellows, if you will enlist,
It's ten guineas in gold I'll stick into your fist,
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust,
And drink the King's health in the mor-ning
The Sergeant in the song continues his blandishments. Padraic lays it on thick...
For a soldier, he leads a very fine life,
And he always is blessed with a charmin young wife,
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife,
And he always lives pleasant and char-ming.
I round the turn, my eye on a particular belaying pin lying in the scupper gutter.
And a soldier, he always is decent and clean,
In the finest of clothing he's constantly seen.
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean,
And sup on thin gruel in the mor-ning.
Padraic ducks his head and shuffles along, letting Arthur McBride take over.
"But," says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes,
For you've only the lend of them, as I suppose,
But you dare not change them one night, for you know
If you do, you'll be flogged in the mor-ning."
McBride plainly looks the two guards up and down in their now shabby red uniforms and presses on, his voice thick with contempt.
"We have no desire to take your advance,
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance,
For ye would have no scruples for to send us to France,
Where we would get shot without war-ning."
"Oh no," says the Sergeant, "I'll have no such chat,
And I neither will take it from snappy young brats.
For if you insult me with one other word,
I'll cut off your heads in the mor-ning."
The Sergeant and the Corporal make a threatening move toward Arthur McBride, and Ian McConnaughey takes up the next verse.
And then Arthur and I, we soon drew our hogs,
And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their heads
And bade them take that as fair war-ning.
And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their sides,
We flung them as far as we could in the tide.
"Now take them up, devils!" cried Arthur McBride,
"And temper their edge in the mor-ning
Their clubs are out now.
"All right, that's it, you Irish bastards!" cries Sergeant Napper, lifting his truncheon and taking a savage swing at Ian McConnaughey's undefended back.
But Arthur McBride does not stop. He continues to sing, snarling the last verse right into the guards' faces.
And we havin no money, paid them off in cracks.
We paid no respect to their two bloody backs,
For we beat them there like a pair of wet sacks,
And left them for dead in the mor-ning.
The riot is on.
Corporal Vance roars and hits Padraic hard on the side of his head, and he goes down, dragging Duggan and Connolly with him. Then, on cue, all the others fall as if a line of dominoes. I, too, hit the deck, as if dragged by the others.
"Dammit, no! Get them up!" shouts Mr. Block. "We cannot have this!"
But Vance and Napper are maddened beyond measure—again and again they lift their clubs to bring them down on the heads, shoulders, and backs of my poor lads—and the job gets done.
As I have been allowed to keep my boots, I have my trousers firmly tucked into the tops of them. Seeming to flail about helplessly in the melee, I lay my hand on a belaying pin and slip it down through the waistband of my pants and against my leg, where it rests secure and hidden. Yes, the job is done.
Order is restored when we are once again thrown down into our cell, with a promise of no food tonight and with many a bruise and bump to nurse.
But that is all right.
Later, in the gloom of night, I pull out the club and whisper, "Here. Pass this down to Duggan. If anyone can crack a skull with one swing of that, it is he." A satisfied grunt is heard from the massive Sean Duggan as he slaps the club into his palm. "Just bring 'em on."
"Just keep it well hidden, Mr. Duggan, and you'll get your chance."
A rather catchy tune, I must say. I hum it to myself, much later, as I search for sleep...
Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride,
As we went a-walkin down by the seaside,
Now mark what followed and what did betide,
For it bein on Christmas mor-ning!
Good night, Jacky. Although I find them somewhat rough around the edges, I feel you have chosen well in your friends.
Yrs,
Jaimy
Chapter 42
I have been largely forgiven for getting us kicked out of India, and I am soon back in Captain Laughton's good graces, if not Mrs. Barnsley's—"Little brat gets away with everything, I swear," she grumbles to Mrs. MacDonald and Mrs. Berry, and they tsk! tsk! right along with the old biddy—as each night Mairead and I once again prance into the Captain's cabin for an evening of good food and revels.
As we sail on, Mr. Gibson tells me that we have entered the Strait of Malacca, because the islands of the Dutch East Indies will afford us some protection from high seas. That's good because after we had left India, we did encounter a storm of truly horrific proportions—a true cyclone—and the ladies of the Lorelei Lee finally got a taste of what the wrath of Neptune really could be like.
The storm worked up, and when it was upon us, hatches were battened down, and all, except for the watch on deck, were ordered below. As the poor ship was tossed about and groaned 'neath the fury of the wind and raging sea, I know there was many a wail of despair from those who thought their end had come, that they would surely drown. I am sure there was many a bargain made with God. I know, for I myself have made many such bargains in the past.