The Mark of the Golden Dragon (14 page)

There.

Sailors are always telling their superstitious mates tall tales about having seen mermaids at sea, and now they're about to get one for real. I lift my piece of wood and get ready.

As I see the prow of the schooner appear from around the point and the ship heaves fully into view, I commence strumming on my driftwood lyre and begin singing. I do a high, keening
waaaaaaaillll,
as loud as I can, so it will carry out over the water, but still keeping it sad and sweet, combining the sound of an Irish wake with the Oriental tunes I had learned recently, and adding a dash of my own innate weirdness, too. And hey, how about some beckoning words as well...

Come all you bold sailors and listen to meeeeee
Come sit by my side at the bottom
of the seeeeea...
I'll kiss you and caress you and cover you
with love,
And ne'ermore you'll toil in the cruel
world above.

I'm hoping for something like the siren songs of yore, like what those naughty girls would sing, they who lured poor Greek sailors to their doom on the rocks of Scylla and Charybdis.

I think I hit it pretty close.

If a fully rigged ship of the sea could have brakes like those on a coach, then this schooner would have used them, as it suddenly screeches to a halt in its watery track. All sails go slack, there is the glint off many a telescope lens, and I see, through the strands of my seaweed hair, a boat being lowered. And, yes, it's manned, and being rowed toward me.

Ah, yes...

I preen a bit, moving my shoulders about, and continue to sing as I wait for the boat. I do like being the center of attention, wherever I can find it, whether it be on a stage, in a tavern, or here, perched on a rock in God-Knows-Where.

I keep up the act, seaweed in eyes and all, to preserve the illusion to the end—after all, I don't want them to come upon me and say, "Aw, it ain't no mermaid at all, it's just some scrawny little bint. Let's leave 'er 'ere," now, do I?

When the bow of the boat scrapes against my rock, I sneak a peek ... and no ... no ... I don't believe it.

"Never did think much of you in the past, Jack-o, you bein' such a royal pain in the ass and all," says the grinning sailor who reaches out his hand to me.

"But I gotta admit, you got a real nice set o' tits there."

Davy...?

"
Now you will tell me, John Higgins, just how you and the
Nancy B.
and all my friends came to be here and why I am here and ... oh, God, I am so glad to see all of you that I really don't care why! Oh, please, just hold me!
"

When I had been brought back to my dear little ship, blubbering with relief and joy at seein' Davy and John Thomas and Finn McGee in the boat, I was shocked beyond all reason to see Liam. Yes, Liam Delaney, my old sea dad, standin' there grinnin' at me and sayin', "Now ain't you a proper heathen sight, Jacky! I swear by all the saints that Moira was right. You are the worst of all possible bad influences on our daughter Mairead. For here I have to come halfway around the world to look after the two of yiz ... but still I'm glad to see ye, lass—"

He doesn't get any further than that 'cause I rush up and throw my arms around his neck and lay my face upon his broad chest.

"Oh, Father, well met, oh, so well met!"

He pats my shaking shoulders.

"My sentiments exactly, Daughter. Mr. Higgins, might we not take our little mermaid below and get her into something a good Christian girl might wear?"

I am taken below and stripped of what little sodden clothing I have on and plunked into my dear little copperbound tub, once again being scrubbed clean of my surface dirt and salt if not my mortal sins against God, Nature, and Good Order. Hot water is brought from the galley and poured over me...
ahhhhhh...
and Higgins gets to work on cleaning up the mess that is me.

"So, Higgins," I purr, writhing about like any slippery little eel in the sinfully warm water. "Give me the news, and tell me all. You can start with why my dear
Nancy B.
is here. Hmmm...?"

"Well, Miss," says Higgins, untwining my pigtail. "You will recall that when in the port of Gibraltar, on the
Lorelei Lee,
we both dispatched letters to various people—you to your various loved ones, and me to Liam Delaney, offering him the command of the
Nancy B.
should he want to use it to pursue his lost daughter, Mairead, and her husband, Ian McConnaughey, both newly condemned to the penal colony in New South Wales. I also offered him a draft in the amount of three hundred dollars on our U.S. bank to pay his expenses."

Higgins pauses in working on my hair and says, "I hope I did not exceed my authority in this matter, Miss? I was acting in the capacity of Vice President of Faber Shipping, the President, at the time, being incapacitated. If so, I am prepared to tender my resignation as a member of the Board."

"
Incapacitated?
'Incarcerated,' you mean, Higgins." I laugh, for I was, at the time, a lowly convict bound for a life sentence in Australia. "No, you did absolutely the right thing, as you always do. You could've maybe told me ... but then again, perhaps you were wise in not doing so. Anyway, let it go. Continue."

Higgins resumes his ministrations, along with his story.

"So ... It is apparent that Liam Delaney, the enraged father, his being of Irish birth and temperament, cursed the British government straight to hell, and took us up on our offer. He immediately boarded a fast cutter from Waterford to Boston and presented my letter to Ezra Pickering, Clerk of Faber Shipping Worldwide, who, upon receipt of the letter, agreed to the terms. He was, of course, bolstered by a certain Miss Amy Trevelyne, who also wished to discover what had happened to the absent President of said Company and to aid in her possible recovery."

As I think on this, Higgins pauses in the scrubbing of my hair and curiously massages my shoulders, and though it is pleasant, I ask, "What? Is there something wrong with my shoulders?"

"Oh, no, Miss. I was checking to see if any parts of your corporeal being are actually made of cork. Like the bobbers that I believe fishermen use in pursuit of their finny prey."

"Right. Because I keep bobbing up, hey?"

"Indeed, Miss."

"Very droll, Higgins," I say, a bit huffily. "Well, if anyone ever observes me sinking into Neptune's rather damp arms, I would advise you to wait for sure evidence of my demise, as I am certain that I will die not at sea, like any good salty sailor, but shamefully on land, when it comes right down to it."

"Oh...?"

"Oh, yes. When last at Dovecote, I shuddered when a goose walked over my future grave on a place called Daisy Hill. There my poor body shall ultimately lie, in a humble plot overlooking the sparkling sea. I am sure of it, so there... 'Home will be the sailor, home from the raging sea...'"

"Very poetic, Miss, if not completely rational."

"Well, so what? I have never been neither poetical nor rational ... and furthermore, as I have always said, 'a girl what's born for hangin' ain't likely to be drowned.'"

"We hope it shall not come to that, Miss," says Higgins. "However, we have more pressing concerns. To wit: What shall we do with this ... hair?" He lifts my poor limp and soggy and unbound pigtail twixt thumb and forefinger, with lifted eyebrows. "What to do? For once, I must confess I am at a loss."

I duck down under the water to consider this question, then come up, water streaming over my face.

"Let's keep it as it is for a while, Higgins. It might come in handy. Shock value and all. And in this part of the world, it does not at all look out of place."

"Very well, Miss," says Higgins, and he claps his hands lightly and...

Lee Chi!

Lee Chi, my faithful Chinese eunuch, steps into my cabin, bearing razor and scissors and a merry grin, and I am so delighted to see him!

"
Nei ho mah! Lee Chi!
" I exult. "Good day to you!" I grab his pigtail and plant one on his smooth shaven pate.

"
Nei ho mah, Ju kau-jing yi!
" he says, grinning and bowing.

"I thought it best to keep Lee Chi close to me, as he probably would be lost in the shuffle of the ships' crews. I did recall your last instruction that he be brought back to Boston and made fluent in English so as to become a valuable asset for our future trade with China. For now, he has proven useful as a steward."

"Mmm ... Good decision," I say, as Lee Chi whips out his razor and brings it to bear on my head. My pate is soon re-shaved, smooth and gleaming.

Hmmmm...
I feel the
Nancy B.
heel over as her course is changed, and I say to Higgins, "Would you ask Captain Delaney to step in for a moment?"

I sink down below the sudsy water as Higgins goes to the door and calls out for Liam.

"She wishes to speak to you, Sir, if you please!"

Liam ducks his head in and gives me a questioning look.

"Liam," I say. "Please continue on a southerly course, as I have business with a certain ship that passed this way recently ... one flying a black flag bearing two crossed scimitars and a silver star. Have you seen it?"

"Aye. Yesterday. It looked like the rogue might try us, but the sight of our guns made him think twice, it seems."

"Hmmm, well, let us chase him down, shall we? And pull down our American colors and just fly the Faber Shipping blue anchor flag ... and cover the guns with canvas. I know it goes against your grain, but make us look sloppy."

Liam grins and puts two fingers to the brim of his hat. "Back in the piratical business, eh, Jacky?"

"Even so, Liam, for there are some people aboard that ship who need rescuing, and some that need ... a hard lesson."

"All hands aloft to make sail!" he roars as he goes back on deck.

God, how I do love the sound of that!

"So, anyway, Higgins, continue if you would. Some news of Jaimy Fletcher?"

"Ah, yes, that was a very tenuous situation—between him and Mr. Jared, Mr. Jared being a Royal Navy Officer and Mr. Fletcher now being an escaped convict. After your apparent death, however, the issue was resolved: Mr. Jared would accompany the
Cerberus
—HMS
Dart's
original charge, you will recall—back to London, whereupon the ship would be returned to the East India Company and Mr. Fletcher would be put ashore secretly in dark of night. This was agreeable to the very gloomy Mr. Fletcher, whose sole interest in life now seems to be to exact revenge upon Mr. Flashby and Mr. Bliffil, those two gentlemen upon whom he places the blame for your untimely demise. The
Lorelei Lee
would part company when the fleet rounded the southern tip of Africa, and return to Boston, bearing your Irish crew and the sad news of your death. All felt that it would be your wish that life should go on for Faber Shipping, even in your final ... absence."

I nod to that.
Life does go on, in spite of everything.

"This was all decided when we met the
Nancy B.
entering the top of the Straits of Malacca. We came together and apprised the stricken crew of your fate. Liam's joy at seeing his daughter Mairead safe and in the company of her husband was tempered with news of your loss, and he decided to have one more try at locating either you or your remains. Your body could have washed ashore, you know, so it wasn't a totally hopeless quest. I elected to come with him ... for one last search."

He pauses and reaches for a towel.

"I think it would be best if you got out now, Miss, and we'll get you dressed. I assume you will entertain your officers for dinner?"

Was that a catch in his voice? Ah, dear Higgins, you are my dearest friend.

I am dried and my hair is combed out, to be braided later when it, too, dries. One of my simple chemises is floated over me and I sprawl out on my lovely bed...
ahhhh...

Before he leaves me, he does something that destroys any rest I might have in mind. He places a tray next to my bed, and then leaves. On the tray is a plate of cheese and biscuits and various meats and two glasses of lovely wine and...

Two glasses? Why two?

"I have letters, Jacky ... from our friends in Boston," says someone entering my cabin.

Joy!
I exult and reach for the letters. Then it comes to me that it was a female voice that spoke.
Wot?
There ain't supposed to be any girls here except for me ... I look up to see just who it is handing them to me.

Damn!

"You! You're supposed to be back in school!"

"Aye," says Joannie Nichols. "And you're supposed to be in prison in Australia! Neither one of us is where we're
supposed
to be. So there!"

"I'm gonna wring your scrawny little neck!"

"No, you ain't. You, yourself, gave me orders when last you left. Remember? 'You'll get to go on the next voyage, Joannie, I promise.' So here it is, the next voyage, and here I am, as promised."