L. Meyer - Bloody Jack - Being an Account of the Curious Adventures of Mary Jacky Faber, Ship's Boy

Then we lay to deciding where the tattoo is to be and Davy says, "On the back of the hand, of course," but Jaimy says that he is going to be an officer and officers aren't allowed to have tattoos, not ones that show, anyway, but Davy says that Jaimy can have his wherever he wants it—on his nose for all he cares—but he's going to have his on the back of his hand, by God, by Neptune, and by all the heathen gods, so there.

I can see this is going nowhere and pipes up that all the tattoos got to be in the same place on each of us or it ain't a Brotherhood thing, and it's got to be hidden and secret from everyone 'cept us so's we can swear secret oaths on our tattoos and reveal them only to each other when we're down in dungeons and stuff and hideously disfigured so we couldn't be recognized any other way, and it makes sense to them and we decide on the right hipbone up front just before it meets the belly.

Before they can change their minds I go up to Roderigo and jam the two pence in his fist and pull down the top of my pants a few inches to expose my hipbone and say, "Put it there."

Roderigo pockets the coins and takes out a needle and a bottle of ink and sets to. It hurts like hell, but I've been hurt worse. He makes a few jabs with the needle and then dabs the bloody dots with the ink. Soon the dark blue anchor starts to appear. Even though I'm biting my lip, I have to admire his skill and speed. In fifteen minutes he's done.

"Don't wash it for a while," he says, turning next to Davy, who ain't acting all so brave now that he's seen me get the needle. As all eyes are on Davy, I slip away unnoticed and go back to the brothel we saw on the way up the street, 'cause now I know there's a woman there who speaks English.

She says her name is Mrs. Roundtree and ain't I a little young for this sort of thing, but she leads on into a little room and I follows the cloud of perfume that follows her and says, "No, Ma'am, I just want to talk," and she looks at me funnylike and sits down on the bed.

"Sit down, then, lad. It'll still cost ye a shillin'."

"Yes, Ma'am," I say, and pull out one of my shillings and give it to her. I sit down in a chair with a frilly thing around it and begin. "I've got this friend and she's a girl and she's got somethin' wrong with her and she don't know who to—"

Mrs. Roundtree gets up and comes over to me, pulls me to my feet, and gives me a few pokes here and there and then grins.

"Well, now, Miss, shall we have some tea? We've got a lot of ground to cover."

I come back out into the bright light of the day having got me an education for sure. I find I ain't dying, which is a great relief to me, and I find out about all the other things, like the way of a man with a maid, and babies and how they're made and born. All pretty disgustin' stuff, but maybe with someone you really loved, well, maybe not so disgustin'.

As I step out of the doorway, I loosen my pants and look down at my tattoo, which is startin' to hurt some, and I see that it's swollen a bit, but Roderigo had said that was to be expected and so I pull my pants back up again and am tying the drawstring just as the boys and some of the Dolphin seamen come around the corner so it looks to them like I'm just pullin' up me pants. They hoot and holler and point and make crude jokes and say, "How was it then, Jack?" I blush all red in the face and say that I was just asking for directions and they could each of 'em sod off with their filthy minds. I see Jaimy lookin' at me funny, but what the hell, I think, it helps The Deception.

The boys finally let up on me and get to raggin' on poor Willy who had fainted dead away the first time the needle touched him and spent the whole tattooing time dead to the world. "Which is awright wi' me," says Willy, calm as the ox he seems to be growing into.

We all get in a tight circle, right hipbones in, and compare our fine new tattoos and congratulate each other on our choice of tattoos and our bravery in getting them done. Whether or not my future husband will compliment me on my finely decorated patch of skin is to be seen, but he'll have to deal with it in any case.

"I'm thinkin' of poor Benjy rollin' around down in the horrid deeps without his tattoo," says Davy, out of the blue.

"Ah, he ain't down there no more," says Tink. "The crabs and snarly fishes have taken care of that. Nay, he's up in heaven with Jesus and they's prolly busy comparin' their tattoos."

"Jesus ain't got no tattoos," says Davy. "And, besides, Benjy didn't have no tattoos, neither."

"He does now," says Tink, suddenly our spiritual advisor. "One just like ours. Jesus give it to him when he sees us get our own. He don't want Benjy to feel left out, is all, and He's better at it than Roderigo."

"Jesus does tattoos, Reverend Tinker?" asks I.

"Sure, he does, Jack- ass . He just points His finger and there you have it. Jesus could have 'em all over His Own Holy Self if He wants, 'cause He's the King of Heaven and He can do anythin'. Mary Magdalen, even. On His chest."

Deacon Dunne would be pleased to know that at least some parts of his preachin' to us has stuck. Prolly not the ones he intended, though.

"No, Jesus ain't the King of Heaven," counters Davy. "His dad's the King of Heaven and there'd surely be Hell to pay if Jesus come to dinner all covered wi' tattoos. 'Specially with 'I loves you, Mary Magdalen' all over His Sainted Belly."

"I do think His mother might object," says Jaimy, with a straight face.

"Don't ye twits reckon," says Tink, getting testy, "that Jesus could take 'em off as easy as He puts 'em on. 'E puts 'em on when He's havin' a few pints wi' His mates, and He takes 'em off when He sits down to dinner wi' His mum and dad! Don't ye see?"

"Jesus has a few pints wi' His mates?" asks I

"Of course, 'E does," says Tink. "What's the use o' goin' to heaven if you can't 'ave a few pints wi' yer mates? If it were otherwise, nobody'd go."

"I wouldn't go," says Willy. "And speakin' o' pints..."

Our talk of heavenly tattoos comes to an end when a bunch of the Dolphins burst out of the tavern across the street and spy me and say, "Let's have a tune, Jacky!" and I pull my whistle from my vest and I give 'em "The Rakes of Mallow" and then "The Liverpool Hornpipe," and they dance and stomp around in the dusty street and insult each other on their dancin' like Get out of the way and let me show ye how it's done, ye're wallowin around like me mither's old cowl and Old cow is it? Kin yer mither's old cow punch like this? but the fight's soon over as their hearts ain't in it and everyone piles back into the tavern, saying, "A pint for Jacky for givin' us the tunes."

We stand to the bar and pints of ale are drawn and passed around and the ale tastes a lot better than the rum. I take my last shillin' and slap it down on the bar and call for food and we get stews and fishes and oranges and, even though I loves me old-horse-and-biscuit back on the dear old Dolphin, the change is just the thing.

"Another pint wi' ye, Jackeroe!" says Saunders, clappin' me on the back, but I say, "Thank ye kindly, Joe, but seein' as how I can barely get this one down my gullet, I'll say no. Please, Mate, have one on me." My head is reelin' wi' the excitement and the ale and the food and the music and the noise and the exotic smell of this place. It crosses my spinnin' mind that should I be discovered and put off, this would not be a bad place to be dumped, all warm and rich, but no, I can't leave my mates and I can't leave Jaimy and I'd prolly end up like Mrs. Roundtree, bless her, when all was said and done.

It don't matter what I say, another pint of ale is shoved in my fist and I stick my nose in the foam and drink some of it, but I give the rest to Jaimy, and he passes it off to Willy, who seems to be swallowing up everything in sight, a growin' boy is our Willy.