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

The Dolphins ain't the only ones in this tavern; there's men from the Endeavor and the Surprise, and some merchantmen, too, and the talk is swirlin' about, and some of the talk is that the Dolphin is headin' for the Caribbean to search for more pirates 'cause we're so good at catchin' 'em and makin' squadron commanders rich. Then I hear Bloody Jack said in the talk and I know they mean me and I don't like it. I wish they'd stop with that. My ears burn 'cause I know I'm bein' looked at behind my back.

My good sense, which has been hangin' back all day, tells me it's time for the Brotherhood to get back to the ship before we get knocked on the head for the few pennies we have left or get so drunk we can't get back to the dear Dolphin and are left here and other lads take our places. Other lads like the ones in this tavern who are jealous of our good fortune and ain't shy in showin' it. I see a couple of boys from the Surprise glarin' at Davy and Tink and Jaimy at the bar with all their prize money to spend. I know they're about to make a comment on the boys' cute outfits and the blood will flow.

"Awright, lads," I say. "Drink up. Time to get back before they discover we're gone. Looks like we're gonna have to help poor Willy."

They groan and say no, but Jaimy finishes his and gets up and the others follow. Tink and Davy put a hand under Willy's arms and we head out into the sun. Before I go I slap my last few coins on the bar. "A drink for every mother's son of a ship's boy in the house," I says loud enough for all to hear. "God bless ship's boys!"

We are not followed as we roll back to the ship, singin' and laughin' and exultin' in a great day. We have tasted oranges and ale. We have seen a foreign country. I have found out that I am not dying, not of that, anyway, and it all makes me so happy that I can barely contain the poundin' heart that beats in my chest.

I'm with me mates, and Stewed, Blued, and Tattooed, we sail for the Caribbean Sea.

PART III

As the Scholar Has Said,

"The Knowledge That One Is to Be Hanged in the Morning,

Concentrates the Attention Most Wonderfully."

Chapter 19

We've been in the Caribbean for three months now, and the sea is such a color of blue that I can't believe my eyes are seeing it. It's so clear that when we come around an island in our search for pirates and get in shallower water, the most astonishing rocks and reefs pop out of the depths and look like strange castles, right there up close instead of fifty feet down like they really are. Tilly has rigged up brightly colored lures with feathers and hooks and trailed them on long lines off the fantail. Fishes bite on them and Tilly cranks them in on a reel that he has mounted on a stiff pole that bends with the fishes' desperate struggles, and when the fish get close to the side all brilliant in their colors but all tired out now, men with gaff hooks lean over and hook them in their gills most cruelly and hoist them aboard where they gasp and flop on the deck for a while. Their color slowly dulls as they die. It's a shame, but they are very tasty.

Tilly goes on about this book The Compleat Angler and has us all make small lures and lines, and we catch fish, too. A useful skill, I decide, and resolve to keep my lure and line for future use. Like when I have my own ship and need something to eat and can't afford the Horse.

***

This part of the voyage has proved uneventful, except for some fearsome hurricanes during the hottest months when I thought we were all lost for sure. I could not believe that such mountains of water could be and that we could survive them. We sailed under bare poles with only a scrap of canvas aloft to keep the Dolphins head into the wind, and all of us were up for days without sleep, but the good ship held, and so did we. Now the weather has turned cooler and the storms have stopped and great slick swells are all that move on the water, except for us.

We prowl on.

We have not caught any major prizes yet. Once again the pirates prove quite wily, slipping in and out of tiny bays and behind little cays and islands. We have seen some burned villages, and the Captain has sent boats full of armed men in to investigate and they came back with stories of the pirate LeFievre and how he ravaged the town and stole everything worth taking, and not just gold and silver. He also takes women and children, for ransom if white, for selling as slaves if black. The rest of the townspeople flee into the hills, and LeFievre burns the town. He has many ships now, and reports from survivors are that he is growing in his pride and struts about in fine silks and talks of setting up his own kingdom on one of the islands. But he could not grow so foolish as to take on a Kings ship, could he?

We have chased down some suspicious boats but have turned up nothing. Once we chased a ship and were running her down when the pirate crew began tossing their captives overboard. We put the boats in the water when the first people were thrown over and kept up the pursuit, but the pirates kept throwing more captives over, one at a time so they got strung out in a line that was too much for the boats, and so we had to stop, so ending the chase, and then the pirates stopped pitching captives. The Captain was fuming, and I know he's trying to think of a way around this caper for the next time it happens. We took the lucky hostages—the ones that didn't drown or weren't still on the pirate ship—back to their town and at least gained the good will of the people. Can't spend that, though.

Whenever a boat is sent out on errands away from the ship, several of us ship's boys are always included in the boat's crew so we can learn to sail and handle small boats. We learn about booms and mainsheets and downhauls and the parts of the sail and how to hold the tiller and tuck the sail in just so, which I think is just fine till one day Tink and I are out in a boat with about ten seamen, which is going into a small deserted cay to look for fresh water. Tink is trimming the sail and I'm on the tiller, keeping the course true for the little dot of an island bobbing up ahead, when I says to the coxswain how grand it is that he's teaching us all this useful knowledge, but he shakes his head and says all ruefully, "Ah, Jacky, I'm afraid that's not what you're here for."

I find this a good deal strange and ask, "What are we here for, then?"

The coxswain, who's in charge of all the small boats on the ship and whose name is Hardy, looks away all shy. "It's a delicate thing, boy," he says, "and not spoke of much." There are grunts of agreement from some of the men. Some of them shake their heads and look off, somber.

"All right," says I, not to be put off, "let's have it. Just why are we here, then, if not to be taught our seamanship?"

After some silence, Hardy sees that I'm startin' to get really steamed at all this, and he says, "Well, Jack, it's this way, and it's nothin' personal, but when a boat goes off out of sight of the mother ship it always carries a couple of boys 'cause..." He hesitates.

"Oh, for Chris'sakes," booms out a seaman named Javerts, "I'll tell the boy. It's 'cause the ship's boys is the first ones eaten if the boat gets lost and can't find its way back."

I look for signs that they're jokin' with Tink and me, but their faces don't betray it.

"You've got to see the wisdom of it, lads," says Hardy. "We wouldn't want to be eatin' a sailor what could pull a decent oar, now, would we?"

Javerts, who's a really disagreeable-lookin' cove with a red gash of a scar that goes clear across one cheek, over his grisly lump of a nose, and onto the other cheek, reaches over and grabs me leg and squeezes it, as if checkin' it for tenderness. His fingers go completely around my thigh. "I wants little Jacky in any boat I'm ever sent out in, for sure. I'll take one of the hams."