Rapture of the Deep: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, Soldier, Sailor, Mermaid, Spy (40 page)

El Feo's men are festooned about the deck, groaning and holding their heads. It is plain that after being made groggy by the opium, they have been easily dispatched by Jemimah and her skillet.

I run to the forward hatch, throw the latch, and shout down, "Come, lads! You're free! Quick now! No time to lose!"

I hear their scrambling feet on the ladder as I jump over to
El Diablo.
Flaco lifts his head and smiles as he sees me, knife in hand, coming to free him.

"Un ángel de cielo,"
he says, "clothed in the finest of garments."

"Never mind that, you," I say as I hack through his bonds. "Go now and set your men free."

"What of the others? The traitors?"

I look toward the beach from which we hear screams, and, I swear, the crunching of bones. I'd like to think that a certain one-eyed monster, the one that tried to eat Joannie and lost an eye in the process, is the one that got Flashby. The beast certainly had a right to bear a grudge against us Brits, and I hope Brother Gator took great satisfaction in the taste of that particular Englishman.

"I do not think they will be back. But still, we must be quick!"

I leap back onto the
Nancy
and see my men pouring out of the fore hatch.

"Secure the ship! Tie up these rascals. Help Flaco with those over there! Jim, take us farther out to sea. Davy, Tink, haul that piece of dirt out of my cabin. Higgins, to me!"

And I dive back into my cabin, chest heaving, as El Feo is being hauled out. Higgins follows me in.

"Miss. I fear you were...?"

"No. But it was a close thing."

"I am very glad you did not suffer that," says Higgins. "What shall you wear?"

I look at the remnants of my usual sailing gear lying on the deck and say, "I guess my uniform will serve. The
Dolphin
will be here soon and I must be presentable."

"Yes, Miss."

As Higgins goes to my chest to get my clothes, I pick up El Gringo, who has been strutting about the deck, seemingly very pleased with himself. I plant a kiss upon his cockscomb and say, "My hero," and put him back in his cage. "Much good food and many plump and comely hens are coming to you, Brother Rooster."

After I am dressed, I go back out on deck to find that I am just in time for an execution. El Feo has been brought back to his senses, enough to know that he is about to be hanged.

He stands on the deck of
El Diablo Rojo
with a noose around his neck, hands tied behind him, glaring about with hatred—and fear—burning in his eyes. There are four strong men at the other end of the line, ready to haul him up.

Flaco is once again in full command of his ship, and I am glad of it. Those sailors who had been drugged and clubbed have once again sworn allegiance to him and have been added back to his crew. They had stood in fear of El Feo before, when he had taken Flaco's ship, but they fear him no longer.

"Captain Faber," says Flaco. "It is your ship that took this brute down. Say the word."

I think of being merciful, but then I consider what he was going to do to Joannie, and what he did to Danny, and what he was going to do to all of us...

...and I nod.

El Feo is pulled ten feet off the deck. He twists and kicks for a long time, for his neck is thick. Then it is over.

His body is left hanging for twenty minutes or so and then is lowered and pitched over the side.

The only words spoken were mine.

"It is a shame to pollute the bottom of this beautiful sea with your carcass. I am sure you are already in Hell, El Feo, and I wish you the joy of the place."

It occurs to me later that yet another skeleton will now rest with the
Santa Magdalena.
How many more will there be?

"So, Flaco. You will head back to Bahia Honda?" We are taking breakfast in my cabin. It is a cool and extremely lovely day, with sunlight streaming in the open windows and a gentle breeze blowing the curtains about. My torn sailor gear is being resewn, so, upon rising this morning, I donned my uniform shirt and trousers again. Actually, I suspect we shall see the
Dolphin
today, so I want to be dressed and ready. And, yes, I slept alone last night, though not for want of trying on Flaco's part. No, he had to be satisfied with a hug and kiss after dinner, which was a veritable feast that saw a lot of serious celebration on the part of both our crews.

"Yes, dear heart, if I must leave you, it will be to Bahia Honda I will go," he says with a sigh. "I must fill out my crew as I am short-handed right now ... due to the cunning of a certain beautiful
bandida."

"With the help of several dozen large and hungry reptiles," I say with a laugh. "Here, try the orange marmalade. It is very good." I spoon a good bit of it onto my toast and pop
it into my mouth.
Mmmmmm ... it is good to be alive and tasting orange marmalade.

"Such a thing of beauty ... and so refined," laughs Flaco, looking at the bit of golden jelly that had worked its way out of the corner of my mouth, but which I had managed to catch with my napkin before it hit my spotless white trousers.

"Umm ... well ... your pardon, Señor."

The door opens and Joannie enters with a fresh pot of hot coffee and refills our cups. I reach over and ruffle her hair. "Thank you, my wild and fierce little Cockney," I say fondly.

She blushes prettily and leaves, I'm sure, to go back to her Daniel. He has recovered completely from the late El Feo's blow, and Joannie has pronounced the lad her hero and informed him that he shall never lack for kisses. Not from her, anyway.

"Why do you not give me half of the gold, then we shall raise our flags together and raid this ocean like we did before?" asks Flaco. "No, we shall raid like
never
before! We can buy more ships! Big ones! I know I can rouse the mighty Chucho with the promise of a ship of his own. We can mount a fleet and take every port in the Caribbean. You can be
la gobernadora
of Santo Domingo and I will rule over Jamaica. We will throw out both the Spanish Dons and the English Bulldogs! Yes, and the French, too! We shall be the King and Queen of the West Indies, you and I."

"Although the notion is intriguing, Flaco, I'm afraid I have no gold to give," I say, putting my hand on his arm. "And I fear that the Golden Age of the bold buccaneer is
over. The British and the French and the Spanish are just too strong, and now the Americans, too. There's just too many of them. Face it,
mi querido,
it might be time to think of a nice rancho somewhere. Take a pretty and loving wife, and raise beautiful children."

"If you were to be that wife, Jacquelina, I might even consider that awful fate."

I laugh. "Dear Flaco, I do love you, in my way, but you know I am promised to another. As a matter of fact, I expect to see him very soon."

He claps his hand to his chest. "Ah, that another man shall pluck this rare and beautiful flower. It is too much for my poor heart!"

"Oh, I think you'll get over that plucking, you rascal. Here, soothe your tortured soul with another fine sausage."

Above, on the quarterdeck, a mouth is put to the speaking tube, and I hear, "Jacky. Ship on the horizon. We think it's the
Dolphin."

I rise and go to the tube. "Be right up, Davy."

"It is the British frigate, this 'Dol-feen'?" asks Flaco. I nod.

"And it has aboard your intended
esposo?"

Again I nod.

"Then I shall go and sink it, and then you will be free to roam the oceans of the world with your Flaco," he says, standing and putting his hand on the hilt of his sword and puffing out his chest.

"Go and sink it you will not," I say, laughing at the thought of the little brig
El Diablo
taking on the mighty forty-four-gun British frigate, fully manned and ready. "Butgo you must, as they will be here very shortly, and they may have some questions as to why the famed Hispanic pirate Captain Flaco Jimenez is hanging about one of their research vessels."

"I will go,
mi corazón,
but I know that we will sail together again someday."

"I know we shall, God willing. Now give me a farewell kiss and be off. I prefer you take it here, rather than out on deck, as my reputation is already in tatters."

My crew, bless 'em, have not said one single word about that little romp I took yesterday, bearing my shiv and clad only in my tattoo, but I know the story will get out.

Flaco chuckles and smiles. "That image of you, in all your natural glory, flying toward me to cut my bonds and restore my honor will forever live in my memory. Know that, Jacquelina."

I give him a poke in the ribs. "Put that out of your mind and give me that kiss, then away with you,
amigo."

We embrace for a good long time, but then my better sense takes over and I push him away. "Come, let us go."

We step out into the light, and I look over to see that it is, indeed, the lovely
Dolphin
that is bearing down upon us. We can hear whistles and bells coming from her, and we know that she is Beating to Quarters and Clearing for Action.

"It is, indeed, time to go," says Flaco, noting that the distance twixt us and the frigate is closing quickly. He turns to me and, putting his strong arm around my waist, bends me over.

"To hell with your reputation, Jacquelina. I will have another kiss before I go."

He takes that kiss, then releases me and shouts, his white teeth gleaming in his rascally smile, "And I hope your man was watching!" Then he bounds over to his ship.
Knowing my luck in that regard, he probably was.

"Hermanos!"
cries Flaco. "Ungrapple the ships! Set sail! Let us go!"

I put my fingertips to my just-freed lips and regain my composure to look out at the
Dolphin.
Strange, I think, that she should go to Quarters for such a puny ship as
El Diablo,
which is showing every sign of running away. Odd, too, that she should be turning and heading up wind.
What is going on?

"Missy! Another ship! A big one! Coming on fast!" comes Danny's call from the crow's-nest. I grab my glass from its cradle on the quarterdeck and leap up the ratlines to stand next to Daniel. Joannie is up there, too, and she asks, "What is it, Jacky?"

I have the glass to my eye, and I do not like what I see.

"It is the
San Cristobal.
She has come out."

I grab the buntline and slide down, shouting, "Battle Stations. Haul anchor! Raise sail! Move!"

Back on deck we hear the first low
booooom
come rolling across the water. Then another.
Booooommm.
Flashes of fire spit out from the starboard side of the Spanish ship.

Nothing yet from the
Dolphin.
I see that she is trying desperately to claw to windward of the
San Cristobal,
to gain the weather gauge, the position where a ship can rain down its greatest firepower, its broadside, on the enemy, while presenting that enemy no opportunity to do the same.

But it ain't working. The
San Cristobal
's eighty-eight guns against the
Dolphin's
forty-four just won't wash. The
Dolphin
will be brave and will fight to the last, and honor will be served. But it will not matter. It's going to be a slaughter.

There is another blast from the
San Cristobal,
and I see the foremast of the
Dolphin
coming down. Soon she will be helpless.

Oh God! Jaimy ... Captain Hudson ... Lieutenant Bennett. .. all my friends ... I must do something.

El Diablo Rojo
is still close alongside and I call out, "Flaco! If you love me, you must help us!"

Flaco, looking out over the sea at what is happening, says, "I love you, Jacky, but what can I do? A British frigate, and the
San Cristobal?
I am but a poor pirate, and a small one at that."

"You must take your ship along the lee side of the
San Cristobal
and pepper her with shot—enough to distract her captain while I close in and try to shoot off her rudder! Do this for me, Flaco!"

He still looks dubious.

Then I say it. "Flaco. There
is
a stash of gold. Help me here, and you shall have half of it! I promise!"

Now I see the gleam of his teeth. "I knew it! And that is much more like it, jewel of my heart! Lead on!"

"Battle Stations!" I shout. "Jim, steer for the
San Cristobal!
Higgins, my jacket! Daniel! Hoist the Jolly Roger! All speed! Let's go!"

And so, our pirate colors flying above us, the
Nancy B. Alsop
and
El Diablo Rojo
charge into the battle.

Lt. James Emerson Fletcher
2nd Mate, HMS Dolphin

An Account of the Engagement Between
HMS
Dolphin
and
San Cristobal
Recorded while still fresh in mind
in anticipation of review
by Navy Board

We met the Spanish eighty-eight-gun man-of-war
San Cristobal
off the south coast of Key West, Florida, and immediately engaged him in battle. Due to Captain Hudson's expert seamanship, we were able to gain the weather gauge, but it did us little good, for the enemy's overwhelming firepower sent a wall of iron into us, shattering several gunports and bringing down our foremast.

I went forward to direct the cutting away of the fallen sail, which had collapsed over our port side and was dragging down our speed, making maneuvering very difficult.

Wielding axes, we finally managed to free the mess, in spite of the fact that we were being pounded relentlessly by the enemy's guns. That accomplished, I was heading back to the quarterdeck when we received a tremendous blast, and I was thrown from my feet. Rising, I surveyed the devastation all about me—men were crying out in pain, while many others lay quite still. The deck was slick with blood. I noticed that I, too, had taken a flying splinter in the calf of my right leg, but I regarded it as minor, considering the real suffering that lay all about me.