boston jacky excerpt

7/29/2019 Boston Jacky Excerpt

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A BLOODY JACK Adventure

L . A . M E Y E R

Boston Jacky

A BLOODY JACK Adventure

L . A . M E Y E R

Being an Account

of the Further

Adventures of JackyFaber, Taking Care

of Business


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And this time, just for Annetje . . .

who has always taken care of business.

Copyright 2013 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.

www.hmhbooks.com

Text set in Minion Pro

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Meyer, L. A. (Louis A.), 1942

Boston Jacky: being an account of the further adventures of Jacky Faber,

taking care of business / L.A. Meyer.

p. cm.([Bloody Jack adventures])

Summary: The irrepressible Jacky Faber, recently arrived in Boston, finds herself at

odds with the Womens Temperance Union and local residents angry at the arrival

of hundreds of Irish immigrants on a ship owned by Faber Shipping Worldwide.

ISBN 978-0-547-97495-8[1. Sex roleFiction. 2. Adventure and adventurersFiction.

3. ImmigrantsFiction. 4. IrishUnited StatesFiction. 5. TemperanceFiction.

6. Boston (Mass.)HistoryColonial period, ca. 16001775Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.M57172Bos 2013

[Fic]dc23

2012041658

Manufactured in the United States of AmericaDOC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

4500425508


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cBoston! Hooray! I exult, as the tall church steeples

o the city come into view.

Im up on the crows nest as lookout as we enter the

harbor, and I can barely contain my excitement. Te USAagain! Im ree and not being chased or once, and I will see

my riends soon! And, and, oh, joy!

Te schoonerMargaret oddput her nose into Massa-

chusetts Bay this morning and headed north up the harbor

with a ne wind behind her which was very good, or it

means we shall not have to row her into the dock. Tat is

backbreaking work, and we poor sailors are glad not to have

to do it.

We slip between Lovell and Great Brewster Islands and

then hard lef!And so we turn, leaving Tompson to star-

board, and then theres Spectacle Island getting close now,

girl another small turn to the right, and then into Boston

Harbor. I can smell the sh markets rom here and to me,

aer our weeks o clean, bracing salt-sea air, it smells right

Chapter 1


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good. I am a city girl at heart, when not sailing, and can put

up with a bit o stench when I hit the land.

On deck there! I shout down. Small lugger to star-

board! Should pass us to the right, Sir, no trouble. wobarges coming down to port. Well clear! Tere is trac in

this ne harbor, Boston being a bustling port and all.

Captain S. F. Pagels looks up at me and nods. He is a

thoroughgoing seaman and knows this harbor like the back

o his hand.

Steady as she goes, he says to his helmsman, a man asseasoned in his skill as is the Captain in his.

Ten, rom the topmast, a voice is raised in song . . .

Oh, I thought I heard the Old Man say,

Leave her, Jacky, leave her!

Tomorrow you will get your pay,And its time for you to leave her!

I grin down at the rogues on deck who are giving voice

to this song. Te crew know Im getting o in Boston and

eel it right and proper to sing me o with this song. Tey

and theMargaret oddare headed up to Eden, their home

port on Mount Desert Island, and they are glad to be getting

back to wives and sweethearts, but not, I believe, so glad to

get rid o me. Tey are a jolly pack o dogs, and I will hate to

see them go.

The work was hard an the voyage was long,


The sea was high and the gales was strong,

And its time for you to leave her!


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5

Its like a tradition, an end-o-voyage song, wherein the

crew get to air their grievances and get back a bit at the cap-

tain. Tats why its always sung only at the endo a voyage,

and not during . . . and only i the captain is a decent cove,which Captain Pagels, praise be, is.

The grub was bad an the wages low,


But now once more ashore youll go,

Its time for you to leave her!

Oh, and I am ready to leave her, count on that. rue,

the wages were, indeed, low, but the Maggie oddgot me

rom Gibraltar to here, and or that I thank her. She did

take her time getting here sailing rst to Savannah to

drop o her cargo o Spanish cloth, then down to Jamaicato pick up kegs o molasses. And oh, those barrels were

heavy and I was not spared in the loading o them, no I

was not . . .

The winds were foul, all work and no play,


From the Liverpool Docks up to Boston Bay,

Its time for you to leave her!

And then back up to Charleston to deliver and to take

on mail and then on to New York. Finally, here to Boston,

dear old Beantown, oh, yes!

Well make her fast an stow our gear,



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6

The girls are awaitin on the pier,


Hmmm . . . Tere is a girl awaitin, but she aint on thepier, and she aint up here in the oretop, neither. Oh no,

shes right down below on the deck, and I know her eyes are

lling with tears. Tis was the way o it:

I had shipped on this bark at Gibraltar in my sailor-boy

disguise, something I have done beore and generally gotten

away with. I gured things would go easier on me that wayand, too, I would be paid seamans wages, which was good

since I was dead broke. I I had announced I was a girl, they

would not have taken me on as a member o the crew, and

with no money to pay my are, Id still be standing on that

dock in southern Spain.

Te trip over was a good one all us coves sittingaround the potbellied stove, swapping tales and singing

songs all cozy in this winter crossing, when we werent up

on deck reezing our toes o, that is. Te crew was mostly

older men middle-aged and well-seasoned sailors and

then me in my seamans togs. Tere was, however, a compli-

cation. Captain Pagels had his wie and daughter along, and

therein lay the problem, or the daughter, Griselda, took an

immediate shine to young Jack the Sailor.

Why did she like me? I dunno . . . But then, why

shouldnt she? She was at the starry-eyed stage o her lie

when all was potential, shiny and new, and nothing was old

and dull . . . so she did not necessarily dream o the heavily

whiskered men o her athers crews. And heres downy-

cheeked Jack the Sailor, no threat at all to her maidenly vir-


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tue, a virtue I sensed early on she was right willing to give up

to young Jack. Down in the ocsle, we had many a ne story

and song. I got not a ew ribald gibes concerning the Cap-

tains lovely daughter, but I bore up under it, blushing andlooking away.

So I verycareully gave her a shipboard romance, since

there seemed no way to avoid it . . . and it was a veryinno-

cent romance you may be sure. She was but een and quite

pretty and, I gotta say, or a kid, she was quite amorous.

So what was the harm in that? None, as I see it. Shellalways remember this cruise most ondly, as memories seem

to glow more golden as the years pass. Ah, yes, but what o

the parting that must now come, and what to do about a

young girls tears?

Tis morning, beore we entered the harbor, she came

to me by the base o the third mast, well out o sight o herather, who stood on his quarterdeck, preparing to con his

ship down the channel. I took her shoulders in my hands,

looked deep into her brimming blue eyes, and spouted out

the most awul, high-sounding nonsense . . .

Oh, Griselda, it grieves me to the depths o my poor

soul, but I must go now and leave you, love. I know that it is

the best thing to do or I am but a poor, penniless sailor and

you are the ne daughter o a rich merchant captain. While

I will always be poor and penniless, you shall go out in soci-

ety and become a ne lady. You will be admired by all and

you shall marry a great man. And I . . . I will remain married

to my true mistress . . .

At this point I put my hand on my breast and look out

across the water and conclude with a heavy sigh . . .


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. . . the sea.

Yes, I had a hard time keeping a straight ace, but I do

think I let her down as easy as I could. She snufed and bur-

ied her ace in my ront, and we remained that way till I wascalled away to the oretop.

Now I thought I heard the Old Man say,


One more good heave and then belay,


And it is, indeed, time or me to leave her, so o the

Margaret odd I bounce. On my way down, right by the

gangway, amidst all the cheers and catcalls, one grizzled old

cove, Taddeus Smathers, by name, grabs my arm. He winks

broadly at me and whispers into my ear, Ye didnt ool meor a minute, no ye didnt, Jacky Faber! Good sailin to ye,

lass! I gulp and press on. One more soulul glance back at

Griselda, standing bere at the rail, and I am o.

So I rambled back into Boston town, and here I am again,

stepping onto the old amiliar ground.

I mean to go to the Pig and Whistle, see Maudie, take

rooms, order up a bath, and generally reshen up beore go-

ing to visit my other riends. And I need to check out the lay

o the land. Aer all, there are some around here who eel

quite strongly that I should be serving out my lie sentence

in the penal colony in Botany Bay, Australia. So I must be

careul.

Ah, dear old Boston, I think as I walk up State Street.


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9

Poor Jack the Sailor, home at last, clad in sturdy sailor gear

with seabag on my shoulder, and soaking in all the old a-

miliar sights. Teres Ezra Pickerings oce, and theres the

aade o Faber Shipping Worldwide. Oh, how it gladdensmy heart to see it, the sign above its doorway all gilt and

gold and black and deep maroon and the Blue Anchor ag

apping merrily above.

But no, I do not stop. I press on and round the corner,

my dry throat ready or a mug o the Pigs good strong ale,

and . . . and then I am shocked to my core.Te Pig is dead.

Te dear old Pig and Whistle is closed. Heavy boards

are nailed over its windows and door, and its sign bearing

the happy at pig playing on his pennywhistle and dancing a

merry jig is aded and peeling, and it hangs lopsided by a

single hinge, twisting sadly in the breeze.As I stand disconsolate, I hear what sounds like a pa-

rade coming down the street . . . Tere is the beating o

drums and the shouting o a chant.

Surage, now! Votes or women, now! Equality, now!

Now! Now!

Ten, rom around a corner comes a crowd o women,

ormed in a column o three rows across, all dressed in

black, looking very grim, and most bearing banners o some

sort all o which echo the chant: Surage, now! Votes or

women, now! Equality, now! Now! Now!

I stand astounded, or whom should I see in the third

row, second rank, holding a sign and looking very resolute,

but . . .

Amy? Amy revelyne?


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Amy! I call out and wave, unable to suppress my joy

at seeing my dear riend yet again.

Shocked, she looks over to see this merry sailor boy

clad in white canvas trousers, middy top, and sailor cap,with seabag on shoulder and open-mouthed smile on ace.

She drops her sign and gasps, JACKY?


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cTe shock o discovering thePig abandoned and ingreat disrepair is quickly replaced with the joy o see-ing my dear riend Amy revelyne. Once I have settled her

down to a degree Now, now, Amy, calm thysel . . . ButJacky . . . (gasp!) . . . I never expected to see you again in this

lie and now here you are . . . is true, Sister, every inch o

me . . . ysee, I do have a way o popping back up like a

cork or maybe a bad dream. So shush, now, dry your tears,

or we must go see Ezra. Te Pig is in trouble. We then hie

ourselves down to Ezra Pickerings law oce. Hes my dear

riend and also my lawyer, who tries to bail my butt out o

jail any time it nds itsel in one, which is airly oen. And,

o course, hes also Clerk o Faber Shipping Worldwide, In-

corporated.

Aer heartelt greetings Ezra, how good to see you!

And Chloe, too, dear girl, come give us a hug! I go into a

side room and wriggle back into emale garb. Tenwe get

down to business. What happened to the Pig and where is

Maudie?

Chapter 2


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12

Aer being inormed that the Pig and Whistle is near-

ing oreclosure and that Maudie and her man, Bob, have

taken very mean quarters down on South Street, I head or

the door, saying, Ezra, I leave Amy in your care! Meet me atthe Union Oyster House or lunch!

While seeming to be very pleased to have Amy in his

care, Ezra still blurts out, But, Jacky, we have much to dis-

cuss!

I know, Ezra, but that can wait a ew minutes! Bring

Chloe, too! I wont be long! Cheers! and I am out andpounding down the street.

So thats the way o it, Jacky, says Maudie, all disconsolate.

What with me getting on in years and poor Bob with his

rheumatism, well, we just couldnt handle it. And we couldnt

hire help, business bein so bad and all. Her man, Bob, sit-ting in a rocking chair with a throw over his legs, nods

grimly in agreement.

So now it looks like the bank is gonna take the place,

he says. And theres naught we can do about it.

Teir rooms are, indeed, mean, there being only a

kitchen and bedroom, with a single window acing out on

the brick wall o the building next door. Te interior walls

are peeling and in need o paint. We sit at the kitchen table,

sipping the tea Maudie has managed to serve.

Why is business so bad? I ask. Te Pig always did

have a bit o a problem being not right on the docks. Tirsty

sailors had to walk a mite to get to it, something they were

loath to do, their having great thirsts that needed immediate

quenching, but I get the eeling theres more to it than that.


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Yes, there were those great days when Gully MacFarland

and I packed the place with our musical act MacFarland

and Faber, the oast o wo Continents, Singing and Playing

or You Songs both Sad and Gay! On Fiddle and Squeezeboxand Flageolet!But now Gully is ar away at sea and I mysel

have gone missing or a while. Most recently I was a convict

on the way to and rom Botany Bay, and then I was involved

in Lord Wellesleys Peninsular Campaign against Napoleons

orces in Portugal and Spain. Still, even with Gully and me

out o the picture, the Pig used to do enough business toscrape by.

imes have changed in Boston, dearie, says Maudie

with a sigh. Used to be dierent sorts o people got along

with each other, but now it aint like that at all.

Im a bit mystied by that, but I dont pursue it as I rise

to go.Ive got to meet some people, Maudie, I say, standing.

But Ill be back. Let me leave you with this promise: Te Pig

shall dance again, and I mean that.

As I let mysel out the door, I hear Maudie call aer me,

Its the gangs, theyre the ones what done it. Beware, Jacky.

Te gangs?

en minutes later, I slip into a booth at the Union Oyster

House, sliding in next to Chloe and across rom Amy and

Ezra. A plate o at oysters on a bed o ice is brought as I

settle in, along with glasses o chilled white wine all around.

Amy still beams unreservedly at me, and I am gratied to

see that she holds hands with Ezra. I give Chloe Cantrell a

squeeze o her own hand and then pile into the oysters. I am


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told that some excellent lobsters are being prepared, and or

that I am glad the are on the Margaret oddwas not all

that ne.

Te questions rom Amy y at me quick and ast.Where . . . ? What . . . ? How did you get here? How . . . ?

I squeeze a slice o lemon over one particularly plump

ellow, li him up, and drop him down the Faber neck. A

ew more ollow, and some bites o good crunchy bread, and

then I answer, Later, Sister, at Dovecote, in our beloved

haylo, or there is much to tell. But right now, I need a re-port on the state o Faber Shipping Worldwide rom its es-

teemed Clerk o the Corporation.

Ezra chuckles and pulls a packet o letters rom his vest

and passes them over to me, saying, Te Nancy B. Alsop is

in port at Hallowells Whar, having just returned rom an-

other Caribbean run. Te Lorelei Lee is due in shortly withanother load o Irish immigrants. More about thatlater . . .

Meanwhile, I think it best that you read the letters.

I look at the pile. One is rom my grandather, the Rev-

erend Alsop, and sure to contain news o my orphanage, the

London Home or Little Wanderers. Another is rom my

dear riend John Higgins, posted in London. And the third

is rom the House o Chen Chopstick Charlie! Joy! Maybe

news o Jaimy!

I rip that one open rst . . .

Charles Chen

Te House o Chen

Rangoon, Burma

March 19, 1809


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Jacky Faber

Faber Shipping Worldwide

State Street, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

Dear Ju kau-jing yi,

It gives me great pleasure, Little Round-Eyed Barbar-

ian, to report that your Mr. James Fletcher has made a ull

recovery o his senses and has taken passage to the United

States.

He has been given money and instructions to conductsome business or me when he is in that country. He de-

voutly hopes you, yoursel, will actually be in that locale and

I assured him it was as good a place as any or him to start

the search or you. I have advised him to stay in some dis-

guise, as the authorities in London might not have com-

pletely orgiven him or his past transgressions in spite oyour eorts upon his behal.

I hope you are well, Number wo Daughter. Number

One Daughter Sidrah sends her regards.

Your Humble Servant,

Chops

What good news! I exult, passing the letter to Amy

and reaching or Higginss envelope. Jaimys coming here! I

had thought to take passage to Rangoon at the rst opportu-

nity, but now I wont have to! Joy!

Amy can scarcely contain hersel as she reads and

mutters . . . Rangoon . . . Burma . . . barbarians . . . Mr.

Fletcher . . . ?


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Later, Sister, please, I plead. I know she wants to pull

out her pencil and portable writing desk right now, to start

in, but it will have to wait. Ten I rip open the letter rom my

grandather . . .

Reverend Henry Alsop

London Home or Little Wanderers

Brideshead Street, London, England

April 26, 1809

Miss Mary Alsop Faber


State Street, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

My dear granddaughter,

It is my ondest hope and prayer that this letter ndsyou well and happy, wherever you might be in this world.

Te Home continues to do its good work or the or-

phan children o London, thanks to the donations rom

your company and the proceeds rom the penny-dreadul

accounts o your adventures so graciously donated by

Miss Amy revelyne, the author o those little epics. I can

barely make mysel read them, but I do, and console my-

sel in the hope that most o the rather risqu parts are

gments o Miss revelynes vivid imagination. I have a

ull shel o them in my study, the latest one being Te

Wake o the Lorelei Lee, but I dont let the children read

them, oh, no. I do, however, allow the sta to borrow the

books, and I am araid that some o them have ound

their way into general circulation among some o the


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older children. Oh, well, best they know something o

their beneactors, I suppose . . .

I mysel am well, or as well as could be expected, con-

sidering my age, but I do grow a bit inrm. Oh, how I misshaving Mrs. Mairead McConnaughey as Mistress o Girls,

but I hear she is araid to come back to the school in light o

her last maltreatment by the British authorities.

However, I do now have an excellent Assistant School-

master in the person o a Mr. Tomas Arnold, a very well-

educated young man, who, as Master, seldom wields the rodon his students, preerring to believe in the essential good-

ness o the children in his care. Who knows, perhaps some

day I may leave the Home in his capable hands and come to

see you in America? Yes, maybe there is yet one more ad-

venture in me.

I would dearly love to see you again, child, as it has beena long time.

Your Loving Grandfather,

Henry Alsop

I do not pass that letter to Amy, but instead lay it aside,

snorting back a bit o a tear. Amy revelyne, poet, writer,

and would-be academic, does not need to see the term

penny-dreadulput next to her name. No. Now or Higginss

letter, which has been opened, as it is not addressed to

me . . .

John Higgins

London, England


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May 2, 1809

Ezra Pickering, Esq.

Faber Shipping Worldwide, Inc.State Street, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

My dear Mr. Pickering,

I am writing this letter in hopes that you have been in

contact with our peripatetic Miss Jacky Faber, who was last

reported as having been seen in Madrid, sending dispatchesconcerning the French occupation o that city back to the

English lines via a partisan guerilla band.

As I inormed you in my last letter, both she and I were

assigned by British Intelligence to Sir Arthur Wellesleys

sta in Portugal, she as translator o French, Spanish, and

Portuguese, and mysel as aide to Mr. Scovell, the Generalsspymaster and cryptographer.

Aer our victory at the battle o Vimeiro, in which she

perormed as a dispatcher and rom which she emerged

bloodied but not seriously hurt, she was sent by Wellesley to

Madrid in the care o the aorementioned guerrilla band a

very motley crew, I will tell you, and I did worry about her

saety. By all reports, she did manage to make it to Madrid,

where she joined a prominent artists household. In what ca-

pacity she was employed there, I cannot begin to guess, but

we do know that, as a member o Francisco Goyas sta, she

accompanied him to the national palace to paint the usurper

King Josephs portrait. While there, she gained much valuable

inormation on the occupying French orces, inormation

she was able to convey back to British Intelligence. I know

General Wellesley ound her dispatches most interesting.


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Aer his great victory at Vimeiro, Wellesley was re-

placed as Commander in Chie by an act o monumental

stupidity on the part o the Royal Army and returned to

England. He is currently working to clear up the politicalmess his removal occasioned, and it is widely expected that

he will be returned to command and will continue the Pen-

insular War in Spain. He has asked that Miss Faber again be

added to his sta at that time.

I strongly eel that, given any latitude o reedom, she

will head back to Boston, as she has great aection or thatcity and her many riends therein. And, o course, she will

want to check on the status o Faber Shipping Worldwide.

Plus, she is sure to be wary o any return to England, given

her past experience with the government here.

I, mysel, have been given indenite leave rom Scovells

sta, there not being much to do now that our operatives inthe eld, Miss Faber or one, have allen silent. Tat being

the case, I will now proceed to Waterord, in Ireland, to take

passage back to America on the brigantine Lorelei Lee, Flag-

ship o Faber Shipping, which is sure to be taking on pas-

sengers o a Celtic persuasion.

Looking orward to renewing acquaintance with all my

riends in Boston, I am your humble servant,

John Higgins

Vice President


Hooray! I exult, handing the letter to Amy. Nothing

but good news today! All is well at the London Home or

Little Wanderers, and our dear Higgins is returning to us on


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20

the Lorelei Lee!And heres our ne lunch, to boot, I say, as

the steaming platter o cracked lobster is put in ront o us,

with saucers o melted butter placed all around, and ried

potato slices, too, and it all looks just great.Amy ignores the ood and instead scans Higginss letter.

Guerrillas . . . ? General Wellesley . . . ? An artists stu-

dio . . . ? Whatever did you do there, Jacky? What . . . ?

Later, Sister, and all will be plain . . . At Dovecote, when

we have the time.

With my ngers, Im dragging a big piece o claw meatthrough the hot butter and bringing it dripping to the wait-

ing Faber mouth, and, Oh, Lord, thats good! I give out a

moan o absolute pleasure while Amy mutters, Disgusting

bug,and contents hersel with nibbles o the potatoes and

bread, while the rest o us lay to with great sloppy gusto.

So, Ezra, I manage to say, dabbing my lips with mycloth between bites. A report on the state o Faber Ship-

ping, i you would?

Ezra smiles and says, Aer your dinner, dear. You look

rather in need o some decent ood and I would not want to

upset your digestion.

rue, I have been on lean rations lately a big at rog

was very nearly on my menu not too long ago, when I was

starving on the scrubby, dry plains o Spain, but Big Daddy

Bullrog did manage to ultimately avoid the Faber angs.

However, Ezras words do sound rather ominous, so I gure

Ill enjoy this dinner and this company and get the bad news

when it comes.

Finally, I dab the mouth, suppress an insistent burp,

and say, Lets have it, Ezra. Hold nothing back. Tere are no

secrets rom those here at this table.


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21

Ezra Pickering puts his own napkin to lips and says,

Very well, Jacky, here is the state o Faber Shipping World-

wide. And with that, he reaches into his waistcoast, pulls

out a paper, and passes it over to me. On it is:

The Condition of Faber Shipping Worldwide, Incorporated

As of June 6, 1809

HOLDINGS:

The Brigantine Lorelei LeeThe SchoonerNancy B. Alsop

Two Small Cutters,the Morning Star

andEvening Star

Faber Shipping Headquarters, State Street, Boston, Mass.

Much Equipment Traps, Rope, Tackle, etc.

OFFICERS:

Jacky Mary Faber, President

John Higgins, Vice President

Ezra Pickering, Esq., Treasurer and Clerk

of Corporation

EMPLOYEES:

Onboard the Lorelei Lee

Liam Delaney, Captain

Ian McConnaughey, First Mate

Padraic Delaney, Second Mate

David Jones, Third Mate

Seamen rated Able: 24Seamen rated Ordinary: 12

Ships Boys: 3


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22

Onboard the Nancy B. Alsop

James Tanner, Captain

Crew: Daniel Prescott, Finnbar McGee, John Thomas,

all seamen, rated AbleJemimah Moses, Cook

OTHER STAFF:

Solomon Freeman, Fisherman in Charge of

Harbor Operation

Clementine Tanner, Headquarters HousekeeperAnnetje Wemple and Rosie Moses, Chambermaids

Chloe Cantrell, Secretary to Ezra Pickering, Esq.

CASH ON HAND:

$2,704.67

ACCOUNTS PAYABLE:

Payroll this month $1,304.77

ACCOUNTS RECEIVABLE:

$6,822.12

MISC. EXPENSES:

Fire Prevention and Insurance $300.00

Domingo Marin, Delivery Charge $50.00

Hmmm . . . I say, scanning the paper. I li an eyebrow.

reasurer Pickering, eh?

Someone has to manage the money when you and Mr.

Higgins are o saving Britannia rom ruin, he says dryly.


23/34

23

Quite a payroll, I must say, I murmur, continuing to

read. I trust we continue to prosper . . . Ezra does not reply

to that, but only gives a discreet cough. And Jemimah Mo-

ses is still listed as Cook? I thought she was well xed withher share o the Santa Magdalena haul.

Yes, she is, but she still searches the southern East Coast

towns or news o her children who were sold o just beore

you bought her. She has reclaimed some but still searches or

others. We make sure the Nancy B. puts into Charlestown on

each trip so that she can check around. She gures they mustbe in the area and, actually, she did manage to nd and to

buy out her eldest daughter, Rosie, and Rosies two young

children. You see her listed there under Housekeeping Sta,

and her two boys are listed as ships boys on the Lee, says

Ezra. Plus, I think Jemimah grew bored in Boston and likes

the short cruises o the Nancy B. Tough she enjoys her ree-dom in Boston, she also likes the southern sun.

As do I, I say, recalling some particularly harsh win-

ters in New England. Ummm . . . And whats this accounts-

receivable amount being so much bigger than the cash on

hand? I ask, with a glance to Ezra.

Ah, he says soly, therein lies the problem.

Which is? I aint liking the sound o this one bit.

Ezra olds his so hands and says, You, o course, re-

call your scheme o bringing penniless Irish men over here

onboard the Lorelei Lee to work on the many municipal

projects this town has undertaken the lling in o the Mill

Pond and the Fenway works and taking their indenture

or the passage until such time as they could pay?

Yes?


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24

Some o them are not paying, says Ezra, settling back

and waiting or the explosion, which is not long in com-

ing.

I shoot to my eet in a state o high indignation.What? Te dogs! What have John Tomas and Smasher

McGee done about that?

I believe those two stalwarts have done what they

could in the way o gentle persuasion, but it has not proved

to be enough.

Where are they? I say through clenched teeth, with ahint o menace in my voice.

Tey are down on Hallowells Whar, on the Nancy B.,

he says, newly arrived rom a Caribbean run. But there is

something else you should know . . .

And that is . . .? I ask with some trepidation. Geez, I

step away or a year or two and everything alls apart, Iswear . . .

Not everyone in this town shares your vision o a brave

new American world or Irish immigrants. Tere are many

who think the Irish should stay where they are, starving or

not, and here you are bringing in boatloads o them on the

Lorelei Lee.

Yes, Jacky, says Amy, with a certain amount o prim-

ness in her voice. You must know that some o the Irish

men can be quite rowdy, especially when they are drinking,

and there are those people who eel they should be more

careully controlled. Tere have been more than a ew . . .

disturbances.

And who might those people be, Sister? I say, sitting

down again but getting well steamed.

Various churches, civic groups . . . and the Boston


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25

Army or the Womens Surage, too. You saw our parade

today, Jacky, the one in which I was marching.

Well, they should mind their own business, and not

mine, I pronounce.Tat may be true, Sister, says Amy, but you should

know the situation i you are to continue in your venture.

But who else will do the work? Te Mill Pond, the Fen-

way . . . who? I ask, ull o righteous indignation.

Tere are some o the local men who eel that jobs are

being taken rom them by the Irish who will work or lowerwages, says Ezra.

Tey didnt want the dirty jobs then, but they want

them now? I hiss.

I think it best that you talk to Tomas and McGee,

Miss Faber, replies Ezra, as they are much closer to the

street lie than am I.I stand and say, I will now go and do that. Please be-

lieve me when I say that it is so good to see you again, my

dearest riends, but I must be o to tend to business. I will

be moving into my cabin on the Nancy B. It would give me

great joy, Amy, i you could come join me there later, that is,

i you can ree yoursel rom the Lawson Peabody. ill later,

then, as I must y. Adieu.

Uh-oh . . . Skippers back and she dont look happy . . .

I hear that spoken as I stride resolutely up the gangway

o the Nancy B. Alsop, and, indeed, I am not pleased at all.

Tings that would seem to be ever so simple always seem to

turn out to be not simple at all complicated, even. I mean,

what could be simpler than my old credo o, All I want is a

little ship, and with that little ship I would take stu rom a


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26

place thats got a lot o that stu and take it to a place that aint

got a lot o that same stu, and so prosper. In this case, the

stu being Irish laborers. But it doesnt seem to be work-

ing out all that simple, no it doesnt. Complications, alwaysbloody complications.

When I gain my quarterdeck, my anger ades as I gaze

about at my elegant little schooner lying there all gleaming

and polished, all trim and shipshape. Oh, you are so beauti-

ul, my dear, dear Nancy. How my heart leaps to be once

again upon thee! And theres Jim anner, saluting in his cap-tains rig, and I hug him to me. And theres Daniel Prescott,

too my, havent you grown! A good oot at least! And Jemi-

mah, dear Jemimah! Oh, please, come give me a hug!

Ten I see John Tomas and Finn McGee, hanging

back, and to them I give no kisses, no hugs, no, I merely say,

You two! o my cabin, NOW!

I am seated at my desk, reveling in the amiliar surround-

ings o my tiny but very well appointed cabin my ne

desk designed by Ephraim Fye, now prominent urniture

maker and husband to my good riend Betsey, ormerly

Byrnes, now Fye; my lovely bed worked in against the ar

wall under the speaking tube, warm maple and mahogany

all around. Yes, its good to be home, I think with a sigh as I

settle into my chair. It is, indeed.

My two so-called enorcers shamble shameaced into

the cabin, caps in hand and eyes cast down.

So, I say, my gaze level and stern, you could not han-

dle the simple job o making indentured laborers pay or

their passage?

Its not like that at all, Skipper, says John Tomas,


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27

twisting his cap in his big hands and looking as miserable as

any schoolboy caught by eacher, doing something wrong.

Any micks what wont pay that we can get our hands on is

convinced to pay up real quick. Its gettin our hands on emis the problem.

Go on, I say, warily tapping a pencil on the edge o my

desk and waiting or him to get on with it.

Ysee, most o em pays up right cheerul, glad to be

here and all and makin an honest wage, and thinkin to be

sendin or their wives and kids back in Ireland, but somelowlies dont and they all under the spell o this Captain

ooley what has set hissel up at Skivareens.

Right, says McGee, tossing in his two cents. He

kicked out the old landlord and set hissel up as boss. Teres

tons o rooms in that dirty hole and he takes the scofaws in

and tells em they dont have to pay back no Jacky Faber whodeceived and cheated em, as long as they sticks with him

and buys drinks at his bar.

Right, and ghts or him against the other gangs,

echoes John Tomas. So we cant even get in at the bug-

gers.

Right, and the place is usually a riot every night, too.

Hes got a mix o both low-lie bogtrotters and native scum.

And some right tough henchmen always at his side.

All right, pull up a chair, lads, and sit down. Appar-

ently this is a tale that will be long in telling, and I have

made them squirm enough.

Te two grateully grab chairs and sit down in them,

happy to be at least partly orgiven or their ailure to jerk

the money out o the deadbeats.

Ysee, Miss, they aint like regular gangs o thugs,


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28

decent criminals like, no. Tey puts on airs like they be no-

ble reghting crews, like ooleys bunch is called Te Free

Mens Fire Company Number One, but the word is, mum,

that they set more res than they puts out.Te police? I ask, already suspecting the answer.

You can nd Constable Wiggins at Skivareens bar

every night, drinkin or ree . . . His at old lady, too, says

McGee. And they say the Mayor is in ooleys pocket,

also.

Ah, Sin and Corruption. I guess this is what makes theworld go round, and I reckon I shouldnt be surprised . . .

Aye, says John Tomas. And they sells in-shure-ance,

too, which means they wont set your place are i you signs

up with them and pays the hey ees.

Hmmm . . . Insurance, another word or extortion.

And the other gangs?John Tomas leans in, all earnest, and says, Teres the

Sons o Boston Firehouse, run by a Captain Warren, over on

Winter Street in the East End, all local men who purely hate

the Irish. Tey tried to recruit me, but I would have none o

it. No, I got but one loyalty, and that is to Faber Shipping.

I reward him with a warm smile and a nod o thanks.

Tey sure didnt try to recruit me, not with my name,

says Finnbar McGee. But I did sign up with a new company

ormin up in the Fourth Ward. Irish only. Called the Sham-

rock Hose, Ladder and Pump.

Oh, and whos in charge o that ne pack o micks?

Feller named Arthur McBride. Ever heard o him?

Oh, Lord . . .

I sit and think or a moment on all this inormation,

and then I stand. Tey look at me expectantly.


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29

Lets go, lads.

Where we goin, Skipper?

Get your clubs, boys, were going to Skivareens.

I knew Skivareens was a low dive back a couple o years ago

when Gully MacFarland, deep in thrall to French absinthe,

tried to pimp me out to a bunch o scumbag sailors, and it

sure aint got any better looking. Teres garbage in the street

outside and the Skivareens sign above the doorway just

shows a poorly drawn mug o ale in a grubby paw. Teres aboard propped up outside that says . . .

The Free Mens Fire and Insurance Company

Captain P. Tooley, Pres.

I put my oot to the door o Skivareens and kick it open,with Tomas and McGee at my side, belaying pins in hand

and grim expressions on their aces.

Te interior is smoky and dark and smells o dank mil-

dew, old vomit, and piss. As I stride in and my eyes become

accustomed to the gloom, I see that, sure enough, theres

Constable Wiggins standing at the bar, Goody Wiggins be-

side him.

Well, well, says Wiggins, look at this. I it aint our

wicked little schoolgirl, back on my tur. His beady little

eyes peer out at me through the olds o his at cheeks.

My business aint with you, copper, I say, slipping into

the rougher way o talkin as it seems tting to this place.

Wheres this Captain ooley character? Hes been hiding

some blokes what owe me money and I means to have both

the blokes and the money. Now.


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30

Why, the gentleman is right over there in the great

room, dearie, says Wiggins, coming over to stand in ront

o me. You cant miss him. Hes the big ellow with the

beard. But leave yer men here. Wiggins has his truncheonin his st and he slaps it against his palm. Tere are a num-

ber o other men at the bar, and I know who theyll ght or

i it comes to a ruckus.

One wrong move, little schoolgirl, rom you or your

men, and Ill have you up beore Judge Twackham again,

and then youll keep your appointment with my whippingpost. I owes you a dozen with my rod. Its been a long time

coming, but I got a eelin its gonna happen soon. Goody

chortles into her beer, as i laughing at some private joke.

I nod to my lads Stay here, boys, come to me i I call

and march into the next room with murder on my mind.

Tere I receive one o the greater shocks o my lie, or at along table against the ar wall, seated in squalid grandeur, is

none other than . . .

Pigger! I gasp. Pigger Ooole! No! It cannot be!

At his side is a slattern I knew rom beore as Glory

Wholey, a prostitute so down and dirty Mrs. Bodeen wouldnt

think o letting her into her well-run brothel up on State

Street, and around him are about a dozen toughs, at the table

or leaning against the wall. Tey all gaze at me as I enter.

Well, well, says Pigger, upon seeing me. Could that

be our own Little Mary rom dear old Cheapside? Why,

bless my soul, I believe tis. Yeve turned out to be a right

trim little piece o ass, Mary, ye have. Come ere and give yer

old riend Pigger a kiss. He licks his thick lips and grins a

big toothy smile at me.

A kiss? I hiss, and immediately all back into the old


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31

way o talkin. Ien I had brought me pistols, Pigace, which

I wish I had, Id be puttin a bullet inta yer ugly ace right

now! Pigger sure aint got no prettier.

And yed hang or that, sure, says Pigger, compla-cently picking up his glass and taking a swig. Ye noticed

Constable Wiggins on yer way in here? Yes? Good riend to

me, he is. Real good.

Last I heard o you, Pigger, you was runnin wi a reak

show up in Liverpool, doin a geek act, bitin the heads o

live chickens, I snarls, and pouring the blood rom theirnecks down yer throat, you miserable piece o

She shouldnt be talkin to you that way, Cappy, pipes

up Glory. She

My, my, says Pigger to me, seemingly unperturbed.

You all rigged up proper and pretty enough in a scrawny

sort o way, but you still got that mouth, dont you? Have todo sumthin about that, wont we?

I got rid o you once beore, Pigger, and Ill do it again,

mark me, I promise, well steamed.

Pigger settles back and reaches out to a plate o what

looks to be ried pork skins and shoves a big greasy hunk

into his maw.

I dont go by Pigger no more, he says around that par-

ticularly disgusting mouthul, now that Ive gone all re-

spectable. Its Captain Percy ooley now, man o business:

re control and insurance.

Respectable cannibal, you means, you squattin there

and eatin what is prolly the sorry remains o your own piggy

mothers belly at, I say as I spin around and look over the

crowd o lowlies spread around the room.

Now, is that any way to talk to an old riend, asks


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32

Pigger, with no pretense o a smile. Why dont you sit yer

ass down in that chair and have a drink on me and well

talk over the good old times we had back in lovely Cheap-

side?I dont want none o yer swill, Pigger. What I wants is

me money.

As I run my eyes over those in the room, I can tell by

the look on some o them that theyre pure bog Irish.

I recognize them as the usual drunken scum-suckin

batch o bottom eeders, but one man stands out i he isindeed a man. He sits alone, in ront o a bowl o burnt-out

matchsticks, o to the right o Pigger. He is small, but he is

not a child. Oh no, or beneath his shock o white hair he has

the grinning ace o a wizened goblin. He strikes yet another

match and gazes rapturously into the ame. When it burns

down to his ngers, he drops it into the bowl with the oth-ers, where it burns itsel out.

I tear my eyes away rom the creature and single out

another man, one who looks prooundly stupid but appears,

at least, to be sane.

You there! I call out, pointing at him. How did you

get to this country?

Oi come across on the Blue Anchor Line.

My name is Jacky Faber and I own the Blue Anchor

Line. Have you paid me or your passage, as contracted?

Captain here says I dont have to pay cause the ood

was bad and the ship was sloppy and badly sailed. Was sick

the whole time, I was.

Te Lorelei Lee is the nest ship on the Atlantic and

you were treated better than you have ever been in your lie,


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you miserable bogtrotter, yet you go back on your word.

Have you no sense o honor?

But Captain says

I dont care what this mound o putrid esh says, Isays, pointing a sti nger at the mans nose. I have your

indenture and indentures can be sold. I have men, strong

men, at my command, and they can take you and bind you

and send you to places that are not as cool and pleasant as

this. Do you know that not all the slaves in this world are

black? Te man is starting to look uncomortable, dartingglances in Piggers direction, plainly looking or backup, as I

continue. Howd you like to chop sugarcane in Louisiana

under the broiling sun? Howd you like to be sold o to rip-

oli? Lots o blue-eyed slaves there, I hear, and I know where

the slave markets are. And I got contacts there, I do, and

theyll take all the action I can give em!Many in the crowd are looking mighty uneasy as I con-

clude. And o course you know, lads, the Arabs and Per-

sians castrate their male slaves ore they set em to work in

the elds. Keeps em o the womenolk. Hurts like hell, I

hear. Course it wouldnt worry me none, not having any

balls to cut o, but you gents . . .

Tis gets Pigger out o his chair.

Now, you men dont listen to her. Shes just a jumped-

up little tart with two leaky boats and maybe twenty men.

With you and other upright lads behind me, Ive got over a

hundred, and Ive got political connections, too, as you well

know, he says with a smirk in the direction o the bar where

sits Constable Wiggins. And he aint the only one.

Pigger lowers his voice and says to me, No, he sure


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aint the only one. In act, I got this whole town in me pocket,

and I think youre pure out o luck, Little Bloody Mary, so

get used to it. Now get yer ass out o here ore I call in the

copper to arrest you or trespass and malicious slander.Fuming, I turn on my heel and say, Tis aint over, Pig-

ger, not by a long shot!

Pigger laughs as I go. Yknow, I knew you had some-

how got real big in these parts. Yknow what else I know?

What, Pigger, do you know cept or the act youre a

greasy low scoundrel what aint worth a bucket o warmspit? I say, pausing at the doorway.

I know that little Polly Von is in town, too. You re-

member her? Pretty, pretty, little Polly Von. Member o your

Rooster Charlie Gang? Actress, she is now. I seen her. Shes

good. You come up lookin all right, but she is somethin else

in the way o beauty. Sure wouldnt mind gettin close to heragain, no I wouldnt . . .

I storm out o Skivareens, my mind seething. Randall

revelyne is o on the Chesapeake as a Marine lieutenant,

while his Polly is back here all alone. Damn!

You lay one grubby nger on Polly, Pigger, and I swear Ill

cut that nger o and stu it up your nose!

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