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

ain't dressed fine, but he looks clean, which'll set him apart from us, I'll wager.

At last the boy straightens up and shakes his father's hand. He turns and comes up the gangway and does the usual signin' in with the clerk. The boy has a bundle with him, and I suspects it's a blanket and a coat. A bleedin' prince, I thinks. All I got is what I got on and my little bundle of shifts. I hopes we're goin' somewhere's warm.

The boy turns from the table and walks away lookin' lost, so I leaves me post as they're pullin' up the plank anyways, and sidles up to him, friendlylike. Close up I see he's a tall, thin lad with dark hair that is actually combed, and he's doin' a lot of gulpin' and blinkin' of the eyes.

'Cheer up, Mate,' I says, showin' me teeth and givin' him a light poke in the ribs with me elbow. 'Welcome aboard the good ship Dolphin, and what might you be called?'

'Uh ... James,' he says, soundin' not too sure. 'James Fletcher.'

'Awright, Jaimy, then. I'm Jacky. Let's go see if Jaimy and Jacky can scare up somethin' to eat. I heard a rumor that they might even feed us; can ye believe it?'

Jaimy looks puzzled. 'I suppose they shall,' says he, and I'm sure he never thought otherwise. 'What else would we do if they didn't feed us?'

'Why, beg, steal, and scavenge, like always,' I says, 'pick up what falls through the cracks, like.'

He looks at me funny, but at least he ain't blinkin' away tears no more. We heads in the direction of the food as a shrill pipin' starts up.

We tumbles down the stairs where there's a great millin' about of men and I sees huge cauldrons set up at the end of a big room and sailors sittin' about with great gobs of meat on tin plates and they're chompin' away and me mind goes dizzy with the smell and me knees go weak with the thought that I might get some, too. I goes up to the cook what's dealin' out the heavenly meat and just looks at him not knowin' what to say or do and he says, 'Where's yer mess kit, boy?' and I says, 'I ain't got one, Yer Honor,' and he mumbles, 'Better git a mess kit, boy,' and he reaches over and gets a shingle lyin' by and plops a great hunk of steamin' meat on it as well as a biscuit and says, 'Half ration for ship's boys.'

I says, 'Oh, bless you, Sir, bless you,' and takes meself off, delirious with joy, and heads for a spot at a table.

I gets the biscuit down me neck before I even gets to the bench and as soon as I'm down I attacks the meat, crammin' its loveliness against me lips and chewin' the fat and grindin' the gristle and suckin' up the hot salty juice and swallowin' as fast as I can and if I could have snorted it up me nose to get it down any faster I would have. At last it's done and I licks the shingle and licks my fingers and wipes me mouth on me sleeve and then I licks me sleeve. Lord!

I now takes time to look about and notice that Jaimy and me has been joined by the other boys and they're eatin' just as ravenous as I did, lookin' 'round furtive to make sure no one's thinkin' of grabbin' their grub. I see, too, that Jaimy's got a tin mess kit, prolly bought for him by his father. Must be nice, says I to meself, thinkin' back to how homesick he looked when he first come on board and how homesick I was when I was tossed out in the street on That Dark Day with me mum and dad dead and me sister goin' to be put up in jars. Try that for a serious dose of the homesickness, my fine young fellow.

Jaimy ain't eatin' his dinner with any relish at all, just pickin' at it and wrinklin' his nose.

I gets the feelin' that the nose wrinklin' is part from what he's eatin' and part from the squalid nature of us boys sittin' next to 'im. I sees as how we could be a hard blow to an untrained nose. Cheer up, lad, thinks I, happy in me full belly and in me filth and squalor, I've always found the nose to be a most forgivin organ. It sets up a powerful protest right off, but it quits when it knows it's beat.

'Better eat it, boy. It ain't gonna change none. Same thing, day after day,' says a sailor sittin' across from us. 'Ain't that right, Snag?'

'Right you be, Mate,' says the sailor named Snag, who seems to have but one tooth in his head but who still seems to be able to chew up his ration right smart with that one tusk. 'Don't never change. Old Horse come to his sad end in a poor sailor's gob.'

That's awright with me, I thinks, just keep bringin him on. He and the other men tap their biscuits on the table, and worms and weevils falls out of some of 'em. If there was any of 'em in my biscuit, they'll have to take their chances in me gut. They won't be the first bugs I ever et, neither.

Jaimy eats the meat and biscuit, slowly.

The talk around the table is that we're goin' out to look for pirates, there ain't bein' a proper war goin' on right now, but I don't care if we're goin' out to run around in circles and dance ring around rosie as long as they keep feedin' me that lovely pork. Or beef. Or horse, or whatever it was.

''Scuse me, Sir,' I says to the sailor what had spoken and seemed like a nice sort compared to the usual run of cutthroat I'd seen on the ship so far and might answer some questions without givin' me the back of his hand. 'But do they always feed us so early? It's only early in the afternoon. And where're we supposed to kip and what...'

The sailor holds up a hand. 'First of all, you don't be callin' me 'Sir.' You be callin' me Delaney, Foretopman, Rated Able, and if we can stand the sight of each other in a few weeks, you can call me Liam. You say 'Sir' to the men in the fancy uniforms, and you don't say anythin' to them at all unless they talk at you first, and when you have to talk to them, you look down at the deck and put your right knuckle to your forehead and say, 'Beggin' your pardon, Sir.' And you never lifts your hand to them or you'll be flogged or hanged. Second of all, we're gettin' fed early 'cause we're sailin' with the tide, which is soon, and it's likely to be chancy out there and they wants us fed so's we can work through the night if we have to. Which we prolly will.'

I thanks him for his kindly advice.

'And thirdly, any questions about your place on this bark, you ask the Bo'sun. He's the one wi' the cudgel. The nobby. And he's the one what handles The Cat. He ain't an officer, but it wouldn't hurt for you green hands to call him 'Sir' for a while. He won't mind.'

Just then there's a long piercin' warblin' whistle and all the men jumps to their feet and heads off.

'That's it, then,' says Liam Delaney. 'We're off to sea.'

PART II

While the Winds Do Blow,

And Enemies Abide,

Music and Friends Hath Charms,

To Set Our Sorrows Aside.

Chapter 7

We are all salty sea sailors now, havin' survived our first days at sea, if only just barely.

The first day out was glorious, as we rode the tide out to the mouth of the harbor, our sails goin' up and our banners a'spankin' and people wavin' from the shore and us boys not knowin' what to do yet so we just watches in wonderment and stays out of the way. Some of the hands is way up in the riggin' lettin' out sails and some is on deck haulin' on ropes, and the officers are shoutin' all sorts of strange orders like it's another language altogether. I'm marvelin' about the newness of it all and the smell of the air, which don't smell like sewers or rubbish or horses or anything like the city. Sea monsters or cannibals or pirates may get me in the end, but at least Muck won't, and if I watches meself, maybe I won't get hanged after all. It's all just grand, I thinks.

At least I thinks that till we clears the calm waters of the harbor and hits the open ocean and the ship leans