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

boy—not a good example to their little darlings. Best not to worry, though, just deal with what comes up.

I pull out my whistle and play very softly till it's time to go down to the rope locker to sleep.

Chapter 26

I'm in my new kip in the rope locker, at least for part of the night since I've got the Four-to-Eight in the morning. I'll get myself off to sleep, I says to myself, with more planning for my new and exciting future.

Maybe I wouldn't have to do the singing and playing in the street, after all. Not that I'd mind doing it in the street, but I don't want to end up in jail, either. Maybe I could make a deal with a tavern owner to set up in a corner of his place, playing for the sailors when they come in on shore leave. I'd give the owner part of what I brought in and maybe he'd give me a place to stay. A little room of my own, and I'd help clean up, too. I ain't proud. I'll turn these hands to labor, I will. Maybe that would be best. The music would surely be more fun than the tutoring.

This rope ain't the softest stuff, I think as I squirm around, trying to find some comfort.

If I'm going to do the music, I'd probably best settle on what tunes I'd do right now and practice up on them. The usual jigs and reels and dancing ones, of course, but what would really make it good would be some funny songs. Get 'em laughing and they'd be more likely to part with their coin. I'm slippin', slippin' down into sleep, and from up out of nowhere comes something to my mind from long ago, from long, long ago. Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray—

His hand is over me mouth and it's so big he has me whole jaw and me nose in it and I can't breathe and he's all on me and I can't move and...

'Time for our little talk now, Jacky,' Sloat whispers in me ear. I can smell the sweat on him and the rum and I can taste the dirt in his hand and I tries to wriggle and squeal, but he's on me so that I can't, I can't get away.

'Oh, little Jacky, you're going to like this, you'll see. I knows you was sleepin' down here so I'd come and find ye. Wasn't ye, Jacky? You'll be back every day for more and more, I know you will, and you'll love yer uncle Bill more and more every day. Oh yes, you will.'

His beard is on me face and neck and then he's kissin' me and with his other hand he's pullin' down me pants and the drawstring breaks and then his hand is on me. Oh, God.

He stops moving all of a sudden. His head jerks up and he looks in me eyes.

'Well, well, what have we here? Not a little rooster, but a little hen, my, my ... Well, well, even better.' He chuckles deep in his throat and puts his head back down on mine. 'Got a little henhouse there, Jacky? A cuckoo's nest? Such fun,' he says low and thick, pantin' the rum hard in me face.

He pulls me pants down around me ankles and keeps laughin' and whisperin' in me ear, 'Oh yes. This is gonna be fine, you'll see, Jacky, you'll see ... Bill Sloat, you old rascal you old devil, you could always smell it a mile ... a mile...'

I pulls me shiv back out of his gut, and he roars and stands up and looks at the bloodstain growin' on his shirt. I only meant to prick him a bit to get him off of me, that's all I wanted, but I look at me shiv and the blood is on it all the way down to the hilt, and he keeps roaring and sayin,' 'Son of a bitch, son of a bitch,' over and over. He's teetering back and forth from the rum and the stabbin' and the rollin' of the ship, and there's voices yellin', 'It's Shot.' 'He's drunk again.' 'He's stole Tommy's ration again,' and he keeps reelin' backward and hits the rail just as the ship rolls, and he's over the side and there's a splash and then nothin'.

There's shouts of 'Man overboard,' and bells ring and the ship comes about and men call out over the water, but nothin' is heard back. I pulls up me drawers and me pants as men are runnin' by me to the rail, and I hobbles over to the hatchway and dives down headfirst and gets out of sight fast. I'm hopin' nobody notices me in the confusion as I slides down a ladder and heads for me hidey-hole, shakin' all over.

The boats are put down in the rollin' sea and they rows around, but nothin'.

Nothin' but the dark and rollin' sea.

Maybe nobody saw. Maybe nobody heard. Maybe they'll think he was just drunk again and fell over the side in his drunkenness. Maybe nothin' will happen. Maybe.

I quivers in the dark for hours, huggin' me knees, and I thinks of Mary Townsend again and again and the rope across me throttle and the Bo'sun droppin' down on me shoulders to crush me throat and snap me neck, the same picture over and over and over till I'm whimperin' out loud, and then I hears the faint bells of the Four-to- Eight and I go up to stand my watch. I look over the side and I think of him down there, his blood leakin' out of him and his arms all out like he's flyin', but he ain't flyin', he's sinkin' down, down, and I'm thinkin' about him rollin' about in the dark depths of the black sea with his eyes open and starin', and I didn't do it I just wanted to get him off of me, and I didn't kill him I didn't kill him I didn't kill him. He drowned. He fell overboard. He drowned.

But that ain't the end of it, of course. The next morning blood is found on the deck near to where he went over, so all hands know it wasn't no accident. Sloat's friends swear the last thing they heard Sloat say as he went over was 'Son of a bitch,' which was just what he called Liam Delaney the last time they tangled, and Delaney, the dog, said he'd kill poor Sloat and damned if 'e ain't done it! Right, and Delaney had the watch, too, so 'e 'ad plenty o' time t' do the rotten deed! The murdering Irish bastard!

So it ain't me they're gonna hang.

It's Liam.

Chapter 27

They've got Liam all tied up and it tears my heart to see him treated so, him what only had kind things to say to me and who taught me stuff and never asked for nothin'. He blinks in the sunlight as he's brought out of the brig and into the Captain's cabin, where the trial is bein' held. Liam's face is a mask of anger, but there's hopelessness there, too. He knows.

The trial drones on and on. There's two Marine sentries in dress uniforms all red and white outside the cabin, with their rifles held across their chests so that their bayonets cross in front of the door. The witnesses are called in and then come back out, satisfaction on the faces of Sloat's mates, despair on those of Liam's friends. The Captain and his officers talk on and on.

The men listening in at the cabin window shake their heads sadly.

It looks like it's over.

Liam to be hanged and I'm the cause. I'll have to beat the drum as he's hauled aloft, all twisting and ...

No. This cannot be.

I runs down the passageway and ducks under the bayonets and beats on the door.

'What the Hell?' from within and, 'Stop there, you!' from the sentries. One grabs me by me neck.

The door opens and Mr. Haywood is standin' there, all outraged as he looks out over me head and finally down at me.

'What do you want, boy?' he thunders.

'Please, Sir, I got somethin' f say,' and that's about the last clear thing I says as I plunges into the room and throws meself down in front of the Captain, who's standin' at the lectern and about to pronounce sentence on poor Liam.

'I was the one what did it, Sir,' I wails, me hands up and prayin' and the tears gushin' out o' me eyes. 'He was on me and he had his hand across me mouth so I couldn't call for help and he wouldn't get up and he's so heavy and he was kissin' me and I couldn't breathe and he pulled down me pants and put 'is hand on me and I was out o' me mind wi' the terror so I pulled out me shiv and I only wanted to poke 'im a little so's he'd get up and leave me alone but instead he jumps up and he's bleedin' and yellin' and then 'e goes over the side and I didn't mean it,