Rapture of the Deep: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, Soldier, Sailor, Mermaid, Spy (44 page)

And so it goes. The cask of jewels is spread out, all twinkling in the sun, and I put my shiv down through the middle of the pile, dividing it in half. Any disputes are settled with a roll of the dice—and I didn't even use my loaded ones.

When we are done, there is only one small gold cross that lies between us. Flaco rattles the dice and tosses ... five and three—eight. I pick up the cubes and roll ... five and four—nine. I win.

I take up the cross, stand, and go to the rail.

"I believe we should give something back to her," I say, and drop it over the side.

It glitters as it falls and turns through the water and then is gone. I like to think that it comes to rest on that poor sailor who lies down below.

"That settles things between us, I believe, Captain Jimenez," I say.

"Except for a final embrace, my slightly damp little mermaid," says the grinning buccaneer, his arms spread wide.

I put my arms about his waist and nuzzle my nose into his neck, making the bells on his braids tinkle merrily.

"Come now, Flaco, off with you. Maybe someday we shall sail together again."

"I know we shall,
mi corazón"

"Adiós, Flaco, mi amigo"

"Vaya con Dios, Jacquelina, mi amor"

El Diablo Rojo
has gone over the southern horizon as the
Nancy B. Alsop
weighs anchor and heads east then north toward Boston.

I stand up in the crow's-nest and look out over the sea. Jaimy's over in that direction and is safe, for now, or as safe as one can be in this world, and for that I am glad. The bell is secured below, and my crew is happy with their newgotten gains, even though most of them do not yet realize the extent of their good fortune. All, however, are looking forward to going back to their home port, and to friends, to lovers, and to family.

Me, too.

The wind whips my hair about my face, drying it from my last dive. I take a deep, deep breath and look down upon my world—my sturdy little ship, my good friends, and the calm sea—and I realize one thing, one very great and glorious thing...

I am free...

It's dark in the bilges of the Nancy B., down by the heavy ballast that keeps the ship upright in a blow, where five of us are gathered—Davy, Tink, Higgins, along with a very mystified Ezra Pickering, and me. Tink holds up a lantern and all that can be seen in the gloom are the wolfish grins on the faces of my crew.

"Shine the light down here, Tink," I say, crouching down and pulling out my shiv. "Watch this, Ezra."

I reach down and draw the blade over the top of a gray bar and a gleam of rich yellow appears.

"What?" asks Ezra. "Is it...?"

"Yes, Ezra, it is gold. Pure gold."

"How much?

"About six hundred pounds."

"Six hundred pounds sterling?"

"No, Mr. Pickering," says Higgins. "Six hundred pounds of actual gold."

"Six hundred pounds! Good Lord! I doubt the Commonwealth has that much gold in its treasury! I am staggered!"

Ezra habitually wears a slight smile on his face, but I suspect that that little smile has been wiped off for the moment.

"Who knows of this?" he whispers.

"Just us four ... five now," say I.

"Hmmm ... And the rest of your crew?"

"No. Although we intend to give all their fair share, we felt it best that we talk to you first. We have given out pay—some gold, many jewels—and all are happy. In fact, we have set aside a nice gold watch chain with emerald fob for you—a diamond stickpin as well—and we hope you will like them. Yes, all are quite happy..."

Well,
almost
all are happy,
I reflect, as Ezra silently collects his thoughts. Upon arrival in Boston, I had a joyous reunion with Amy Trevelyne, tempered by the fact that brother Randall had not yet returned from the wars in Germany and there was no word of him. Amy, however, remains cheerful, or as cheerful as she ever gets, and already had pen and paper in hand and has been taking notes on my various travels. Jim is snugged up with Clementine, and Davy with Annie, while McGee and Thomas are off to the Pig and beyond. Jemimah has bought new clothes and we have hired investigators to search for her children down south and to see about buying them out of slavery. And El Gringo has been given an honored retirement at Dovecote. He's been put out to stud, as it were, and provided with a proper harem. So the other roosters had better watch out because even though I've taken off his silver spurs and hung them up, I've not thrown them away—for his son might want the use of them someday.

Yes, everybody's quite happy ... everybody 'cept poor Joannie...

"But, Jacky, I don't wanna go to school!" she wails as we get out of the coach in front of the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls. "I wanna go back to sea with you!"

"Hush now, Joannie," I say. "We are not yet heading back to sea, and there are things you must learn if you are to get on in this world: Comportment, Horsemanship, Etiquette, and Management of a Household. Art, Science, and Music, too. You will learn them right here, just as I did. Up the stairs now, down this hall, and into this office. That's it ... head up now."

Both attired in the Lawson Peabody School uniform—black dress, black stockings, and white silk shawl gathered about the shoulders—we enter.

"Put your toes on that white line ... you see it? Good. Now wait—you shall have to get very good at waiting in this world. Ah. Here she is."

A rustle of black silk and a presence enters the room.

"Ah, Miss Faber. Good to see you again. And this is...?"

"Miss Joan Nichols, Mistress, late of London. I would appreciate it if you would take her on."

"I see. I expect that you will vouch for her character?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Very well. Good day to you, Miss Faber. I will now take Miss Nichols and introduce her to the rest of the girls. Please do come back later and recount to us your most recent ... travels. I am sure we will enjoy hearing of them."

I give Joannie a kiss on her damp cheek and leave the office.

As I go, I hear Mistress Pimm say, "Miss Nichols, we here at the Lawson Peabody affect a certain demeanor ... Stand up straight now and lift your chin as if you are delicately balancing a book on your head. All right. Now, lips together and teeth apart. Now drop your eyelids down halfway, projecting a look of languid confidence ... That's good, not perfect, but acceptable. My girls call it the Lawson Peabody Look. It is possible that someday you will, too."

I go out the door and back down to the harbor, leaving Joannie to her fate.

A cough from Ezra brings me back to the present in the bilge of the
Nancy B. Alsop.

"Ahem ... and yes, Ezra, it's all legal ... sort of."

I give him a quick summary of just how I got this hoard, and Mother England's possible interest in it. He nods, thinking...

He then says, "My word ... This will have to be handled very secretly, and very, very carefully." More nodding, more thinking. "Subsidiaries ... trusts ... holding companies ... phantomcorporations..."

"Well, dear Ezra, that is your department. Me, I'm going out shopping."

"Shopping?" he asks, somewhat dazed by all this, as I'm thinking,
Ha, Ezra! I got you this time!

"Yes, Ezra," I say as I prepare to go back up into the glorious sunshine of a perfect Boston day. "For a ship. A big one."

Oh, it is so very, very good to be rich!