Bloody Jack: Being an Account of the Curious Adventures of Mary 'Jacky' Faber, Ship's Boy

and his bravado and his shiv and our Hughie, the other gangs keep their distance.

Since I'm the smallest, I get called Little Mary, even though I ain't near to bein' the youngest no more.

The gang is always changin', as we loses some and we brings some in. Like the girl what stole me clothes before, whose name is Betty, was stole herself awhile back as two of the women from Missus Tuttle's lit upon our little band to find a replacement for their servant girl who had died. They picked Betty and allowed as they was gonna make a fine lady out of her, Isn't that right, Bessie, just like us. So they takes our Betty off, and Charlie says that he'll give it two days and then he'd go see her and if she wanted to come back, he'd steal her back, but after the two days he goes to see, and, no, she didn't want t' come back, she wanted to stay and be a fine lady. And I din't get me clothes back, either, even though they prolly would still have fit.

'Whyn't all us girls go off to Missus Tuttle's to be fine ladies,' says I, thinkin' maybe there'd be food there and beds and stuff, but then Charlie tells me to shut my silly girly gob, as what do I know about anything in the world. Then he tells us what goes on at Missus Tuttle's, but I don't believe him, not for a minute. Disgustin', it is. 'Such a mind you have, Charlie, to be thinkin' of such.'

'Mary, bless you, you'll find out soon enough,' says Charlie.

Our kip is up under the Blackfriars Bridge, just where the bridge meets the road real sharp so there's a cave under there, like. We got some straw from the stables on the sly, a little bit at a time, so at night we all burrows in and sleeps in a pile for warmth and comfort. When it rains, trickles of water come down through the black stones, but we knows where they'll be comin' now, so we keeps away. Can't keep away the damp from the river, though. I think that's what took Emily off, the damp and cold from the river. In the night the lights from the city lamps bounce off the waves, and on foggy nights horns sound low and mournful back and forth. It's ships makin' their way to someplace else, and I want to be going somewheres else, too.

Other gangs would like to have our kip, but with Hugh the Grand shakin' his big fists and bellowin' and Charlie wavin' his shiv and the rest of us throwin' rocks, we manages to chase them off and keep our home, at least for the time bein'.

At night, when we're all in a pile, we talks and makes up stories about what we're goin' to be if we grows up. Like Charlie says, he'll be a soldier and all and trade his shiv for a great gleamin' sword and fine red uniform and won't all the fine ladies love him and we girls all says we loves him right now but he says that don't count, us bein' worthless drabs and all and he gets jabbed in the ribs for his cheek.

Hughie allows as how he'd like to be a horse handler 'cause horse handlers have to be big and strong, which he is, and he likes horses and even likes the smell of 'em. We all hold our noses and say phew, but he don't care, he likes 'em, is all. There's lots of horses here in Cheapside 'cause of all the markets and fairs.

Judy's of a practical turn of mind, too, as she wants to go into service and be a maid for a fine lady, but first she's got to get big enough to be useful to some such fine lady and not just eat her out of house and home. Polly, she just wants to marry a good man and raise up babies. Nancy says she wants to get married, too, and maybe she and her man would have a tavern where there'd be lots of good things to eat and drink, but they'd keep scum like Muck out, it bein' a respectable place, like.

I say I want to be the captain of a fine ship and sail around the world and see the Cathay Cat and the Bengal Rat and gaze upon the Kangaroo, which is what I heard some sailors singin' about over at Benbow's Tavern one day and it sounded right fine to me, them all happy and singin' and carefree, it seemed. I'll get rich and famous and spend all me money takin' care of poor miserable orphans, and I get handfuls of straw thrown at me for me sentiments.

''Cut out the middleman!' says I to the worthy doctor. 'Pay me now only half what ye'd be payin' Muck for me earthly remains and I promises to come and lie down on yer doorstep every time I feels sick and liable to die. I'd even carry a note to the effect that if I perished somewheres else, my body was to be delivered to the Honorable Doctor without delay!'' says Charlie, having returned from the anatomist's full of gruesome stories of bloody tables and knives and things put up in jars.

'And Muck himself is there ascowlin' at the notion of his bein' cut out of the bargain, but the doctor says no, it was against his ethics to conduct negotiations with a live body, even though he was sure I was possessed of an admirable spleen.'

We're all gigglin' and snortin', and Charlie goes on with, 'I owns I got a right fine spleen and if Your Honor would pay me now, I'd be sure to keep it in special prime condition for his later use and joy. Massage it up twice a week to keep it nice and soft and all.' Charlie shakes his head sadly, swinging his red mop.

'His Honor would have none of it, and he has Muck put his foul hands on me to toss me out, spleen and all.'

'And for that,' says Charlie, 'I resolves to abuse me spleen most terrible.'

We all gets a howl out of Charlie's prancin' around and telling of the stomachs that are blown up and dried like the blowfish we see in the fish market, and other guts tanned and pickled and preserved. But then he tells of seeing a baby's hand floating in some juice and that shuts up my laughing right quick.

I knows me sister Penny is put up in jars, and I suspects that someday I will be, too.

Chapter 2

I'm thinkin' I'm maybe twelve years old now, but it's hard to tell 'cause time slips by out here on the streets. That would be about right, though, figuring I was about eight when I was turned out an orphan into the storm of life, me bein' so happy with Mum takin' care of Penny and me, and our dad teachin' us to read, him bein' a teacher what had come to London with Mum, who was a deacon's daughter from a poor church in the north country, to take up a teaching post, but the post fell through and he had to fall back on letter writin' for the people what couldn't do it for themselves. It was enough to get along on till somethin' better come along, but what come along was Death and nothin' better.

Maybe I'm thirteen. I don't know. I'm still so damned small.

Because I was taught to read by me dad, I do the readin' for the gang. It's me special trick, like, different from the beggin' and the thievin' and the runnin' from the coppers and the throwin' of rocks and such which all of us do. Doin' the readin' keeps me sharp in the practice of it, and by soundin' out the words, I keeps pickin' up new ones. I don't always know what the meanin' is, but I usually gets it worked out.

When the printers on Fleet Street puts up the news sheets and broadsides on the walls outside their shops, we all goes over and I climbs up on Hugh the Grand's shoulders and I reads what's put up there. The people what gather about can't read for their ownselves and they likes it when I does it for 'em, and when Polly and Nancy and Judy scampers about with their hands out, well, sometimes the people puts in a penny.

There's wanted posters, too, for bold and darin' highwaymen, and there's news of the brewin' war with Napoleon, who's out kickin' up trouble in the high Germanies, and everyone shakes their heads and says we'll be back in it soon. Charlie 'specially likes the broadsides, which are songs written out making fun of something or somebody or some big thing that happened. He quick learns the words by heart and then goes out on the street and sings 'em, caperin' about, and some people likes it and again we girls pass the cups around and maybe we get a penny or two, and then we can get a meat pie to share, which is a great and rare and wonderful thing.

There's cartoons what are put up, too. Men and women drawn with big fat eggs for bodies and little sticks for arms and legs, and big awful faces with big lips and noses, and words come out of their mouths in bubbles and I read them, too. 'Like, see this cove here is saying the Tory members are nothing but a bunch of baboons, and this here baboon over to the side is saying that he doesn't see the resemblance and his mum is much offended,' but the words from the baboon is comin' out of his bum instead of out his mouth, and everyone gets a good laugh and Hugh the Grand shakes with the laughin' even tho' I knows he ain't got no notion of what's funny about it, and for me it's like gettin' a ride on a big old dumb horse when Hughie laughs.

I says to Charlie a couple of times, 'Charlie, how come we don't do the readin's all the time, it's a good trick and there's plenty of different print shops and we always gets some pennies when we does it? We could even set up in letter writin' and make even more and not have to do the beggin'. Why not, Charlie?'