The Mark of the Golden Dragon
Read The Mark of the Golden Dragon Online
Authors: Louis A. Meyer
Copyright © 2011 by L. A. Meyer
All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections
from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing
Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
Harcourt is an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.
The text of this book is set in Minion.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Meyer, L. A. (Louis A.), 1942-
The mark of the golden dragon : being an account of the further adventures of
Jacky Faber, jewel of the East, vexation of the West, and pearl of the South China
Sea / L. A. Meyer.
p. cm.—(Bloody Jack adventure)
Summary: In 1807, having survived a typhoon in the East Indies, Jacky Faber
makes her way to London to seek a pardon for herself and her betrothed, Jaimy
Fletcher, who, posing as a highwayman, is trying to avenge her supposed death.
ISBN 978-0-547-51764-3
[1. Sex role—Fiction. 2. Seafaring life—Fiction. 3. Robbers and outlaws—Fiction. 4.
Sea stories. 5. London (England)—History—19th century—Fiction. 6. Great
Britain—History—George III, 1760-1820—Fiction. 7. Indonesia—History—19th
century—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.M57172Mar 2011
[Fic]—dc22
2011009598
Manufactured in the United States of America
DOC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
4500313061
For Annetje, the Feather in my Cap,
the Jewel in my Crown...
and for Mary and Joe and all of the Pankowskis
as well as for Dave and Bobbie and
all of the Lawrence clan
And finally, for the lads on The Hill.
Lorelei Lee
O God of Grace and Glory, we come before you this day in memory of our fallen shipmate. In your boundless compassion, console those of us who are left behind to mourn. Give us faith to see in death the gate of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue our course on Earth until by your call we are united with those who have gone before, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Eternal Father whose arm doth sometimes calm the restless wave, and whose mighty arm doth at other times whip the sea into an angry froth, please accept into your loving arms the soul of our lost mate who in your greater wisdom you saw fit to take. We commend unto your divine presence our beloved comrade...
Jacky Faber.
Amen.
My name is Jacky Faber and I am—by the grace of God, of Neptune, and of all the lesser gods—Owner and Captain of the
Lorelei Lee,
possibly the most beautiful brigantine bark ever to sail the seven seas. I am once again back in command of that fine ship. I am in my lovely cabin and my bottom is pressed back in its favorite chair at the head of my fine table, and grouped about that table are many of my dearest friends.
I've a glass of fine wine in my fist and my dearly beloved James Emerson Fletcher sits here beside me, his hand in mine.
Oh, Jaimy, finally!
I am supremely happy.
Now a drop of Nelson's blood would not do us any harm,
No, a drop of Nelson's blood would not do us any harm...
Things are getting a mite rowdy here on the
Lorelei Lee
as we lift our glasses and bellow out the words to the song. My ship has been sailing in company with the
Cerberus
and HMS
Dart
back up the Strait of Malacca, with Sumatra to port and the Malay Archipelago to starboard, having left Australia, and all its meager charms, far behind.
Most of those in this northerly bound fleet had been condemned to servitude in the penal colony in New South Wales, but we managed, through various mutinies, battles, and some very welcome help from God, luck, and a Chinese pirate, to wriggle free of those bonds, and for that we are eternally grateful. I am, anyway.
Were we guilty of those crimes for which we were transported to the other side of the world? Well, the Irish lads were guilty mostly of merely being Irish. My own dear Jaimy Fletcher, former Lieutenant in His Majesty's Royal Navy and now in the eyes of that Service a vile pirate captain, was mainly guilty of merely being associated with me, false witness being brought against his good name.
My own guilt? Well, I'll let others decide that, but I won't stick around and wait for their decision. Oh, I suppose when I stand before the Pearly Gates, I'll have a few things to answer for, but I'd rather have God judge me and my actions than be judged by the King's ministers, who have not been all that kind in their treatment of my poor self. I do hope God will be more merciful than King George has proven to be.
No, a drop of Nelson's blood would not do us any harm,
And we'll all hang on behind!
Earlier we enjoyed much high hilarity over the pardons granted to all of us by Captain Bligh, Governor of New South Wales. This came about because my good Higgins, in securing the head money for each of the two hundred and fifty assorted female convicts we had delivered in good health to the colony, had also managed to cop a pile of the pardon forms. Using them, we had greatly delighted in granting ourselves absolution from all those various crimes for which we had been condemned. Captain Bligh—yes,
that
unfortunate Captain Bligh, formerly of the infamous
Bounty
—had signed the cargo manifest himself, so it was an easy thing for me to fake his signature on the pardons. I am quite good at forgery ... among other things.
And we'll roll the golden chariot along,
Yes, we'll roll the golden chariot along,
We'll roll the old chariot along,
And we'll all hang on behind.
As we sing out the song, we linger over each "roll," making it "rrooooll" in time to the roll of the ship. Well, actually, the
Lee
is more wallowing than rolling, since we are essentially becalmed, which is why the captains of the
Dart
and
Cerberus
figured it was safe enough to leave their ships in the care of their junior officers and are now over here eating up my food, slugging down my wine, and eyeing me up, the dogs. I sit at the head of my table with Captain Fletcher on my right ... and Captain Joseph Jared on my left.
So, yes, there are complications, for this Joseph Jared also has a claim on my affections—it was he who had befriended me when I was pressed into service on HMS
Wolverine
and who helped me in the eventual takeover of that unhappy ship and who protected me from harm in that vile French prison. Both Jaimy and Jared know how things lie between the three of us, and it makes for a bit of tension in the room.
Complications, complications...
I heave a sigh and think that if Joseph were not here right now, I'd be sitting in Jaimy's lap, and if Jaimy were not here, I'd probably be in Joseph's. Another heavy sigh. Just why my scrawny and much-scarred self should be such a source of covetous concern, I don't know ... Men, I swear ... I right now sit with my head mostly shaved 'cept for a braided pigtail hanging at the back of my shiny skull and a rather garish tattoo of a golden dragon resting on the back of my neck under said pigtail.
My Sailing Master, Enoch Lightner, a white bandage over his sightless eyes, is seated at the foot of the table, and he sings out the next verse in his lusty baritone.
Now, another winsome girl would not do us any harm,
No, another winsome lass would not do us any harm...
Arthur McBride, he who is Third Mate of the
Cerberus,
joins him, all the while leering at me over the rim of his wineglass.
Aye, one more winsome girl would not do us any harm,
And we'll all hang on behind!
The young Irish hound must know, given that both Jaimy and Joseph are here aboard, that he has absolutely no chance of getting into my knickers—or into my bed, for that matter—but he nevertheless gazes upon me with some heat as he sings the verse to finish up the song. I know that it was with great regret that he left his lovely and most attentive Chinese handmaidens behind him on Cheng Shih's
Divine Wind.
Sorry, mate, but for you, once again, the hair shirt of the monk.
I am not the only female aboard, because Ian McConnaughey sits midtable with his wife and my dear friend Mairead, in all her red-haired beauty, beaming at his side. 'Course Arthur McBride knows better than to try to touch
her.
In the past, he has never had such reservations about
me
even though for most of our acquaintance I have been his superior officer.
Ah, yes, the Jacky Faber bed ... It is right over there, nicely made up by my servant, Lee Chi, with the best of silks and fine cottons, and I have seen covert male glances stealing over to look at it.
Don't think I don't see your eyes, or know your thoughts, you dogs.
