Curse Of The Blue Tattoo Part 15

"I heard about a young man who was accused-"

"Ephraim had nothing to do with it! He's a good man, the best man I know!" she says.

Ah. So that's the way of it.

"And Ephraim is...," I probes, I hope kindly.

"Ephraim Fyffe is apprenticed to a furniture maker. On Milk Street," she says, her voice all chokey. "And they didn't even..." She chokes all the way up.

"And?"

"And her parents didn't even come up to get her, after all that was done to her. She was put in the ground without friends about her, without words, without a stone. And they didn't even ring the death knell for her."

I resolve to see this Mr. Fyffe at first opportunity.

During a break in the afternoon's work, I take a look at the west wall of the school from the outside and I see right off that I don't need the rope at all 'cause there's small rungs set into the masonry of the chimney wall and they go all the way to the roof. Of course. They are there so's the chimney sweep can get to the roof and do his work without having to carry all his black and sooty brushes through the main house to the widow's walk. The rungs start about twelve feet from the bottom. To discourage burglars, I'm thinkin', but it ain't gonna discourage me.

The vile Dobbs's toolshed is not fifty feet away and I discover there are several ladders alongside it that would serve. I could go out my window, climb down the rungs, and then drop the last twelve feet. To get back in I could use one of the ladders to get to the rungs. But then I'd have to leave the ladder in place and somebody might spot it in the morning before I had a chance to go out and stash it. No, it'll have to be done with some rope, after all. I'll get about a fifteen-foot length and when I climb down I'll tie it to the third rung from the bottom, drop down to the ground, and leave it hanging there till I get back later. The bushes will hide most of it. When I come back, I'll climb up the rope, untie it when I'm still on the bottom rung, and take it inside with me and no one will be the wiser.

And that is how the job will be done.

The prayers are said, the lamps are out. All is quiet and I'm puttin' my leg out the window with me s.h.i.+v and me penny-whistle in my vest and my concertina looped 'round me neck in one of the net bags we use for laundry. In there, too, is my white sailor top from back on the s.h.i.+p, with its navy blue flap with white piping and my HMS Dolphin cap. I figure I can put those on with my black skirt and stockings showing down below, and, well, I'll look right nautical and it'll make a jolly stage costume.

Down I go. In a moment, I'm off on the town.

I pick my way through the streets this time, as the usually lovely Common looks right scary in the dark. After Common Street I cuts down School Street 'cause I don't want to get close to the jail again and then down Cornhull, sticking close to the wall, just an innocent serving-girl headin' dutifully home to her lovin' parents, that's all, then on to State Street and there's the Pig and Whistle, its doorway glowin' in the growin' dark. Down the street I can see that the other taverns, the ones closest to the docks, have got big, boisterous crowds. The fleet must be in.

I peek in the Pig, all timid now that I'm actually here, and I see that there's maybe ten men sitting at tables. It don't look like they're up for much of a party, I'm thinkin'. Gulliver MacFarland is just goin' up on the little stage in back and takin' his fiddle from the case. He don't look drunk, but then he don't look cold sober, either, so I 'spect he's only had enough coin to buy some ale. I guess he's abiding by Maudie's rule, whether he likes it or not. He looks a little bit cleaner, like maybe he cleaned up his clothes some.

I open my bag and pull out my sailor top and slip it on, then put my cap on at a rakish angle, and head for the stage. Gully looks up in mild surprise as I step up and turn around to face the crowd.

"Good evening, Gentlemen! G.o.d rest ye merry and welcome to the Pig and Whistle, the finest of the public houses in dear old Boston! We are the musical team of Faber and Mac-Farland, and we will be singing and playing for you tunes that are sure to bring joy to your heart, a spring to your step, and a tear to your eye! And we will start with 'Drowsy Maggie'!"

And I rips into it with feet and whistle and Gully comes right in with the fiddle, just like we practiced it, and soon the place is rockin' with cheers and shouts and the stamping of feet. And then we heads into the jocular "Bungo Rye," which I do with my concertina and Gully sings the part of Jack the Sailor and I sing the part of the Damsel. Gully sings: "Well, Jack was a sailor, and he walked up to town

And she was a damsel, who skipped up and down"

Then I pipes up with: "Says the damsel to Jack as she pa.s.sed him by,

Would you care for to purchase some old bungo rye,"

And then we both come in for the chorus: "Ruddy rye, ruddy rye, fall the diddle die,

Ruddy rye, ruddy rye."

Then Gully again with: "Says Jack to himself, 'What can this be?'

But the finest of whisky from far Ger-man-ie?

Snuggled up in a basket and sold on the sly,

And the name that it goes by is old bungo rye!"

And then both of us on the chorus, and then I come in with: "Jack gave her a pound, 'cause he thought nothing strange.

Hold the basket, young man, while I run for your change.

Jack peeked in the basket and a child he did spy,

I'll be d.a.m.ned and he cried, 'This is queer bungo rye!'"

And in the middle of that verse, I hand Gully a bundle in which is a baby doll that Gully had got somewheres and he opens it up and looks properly shocked at its contents and he holds it up to the audience and they roar out with laughter. There's more verses where poor Jack goes to get the child christened and when the preacher asks what the name of the boy will be he says, "Queer Bungo Rye," and the Preacher says that's a mighty queer name and Jack says it's a queer way he came and that'll be his name, by G.o.d.

There's hoots and hollers at the end of it and my blood is up for sure and Gully whispers, "'The Liverpool Hornpipe,'" and we swing into that and I notice some coves darting out and coming back in with more coves and pointing at us and so the place is filling up.

Then Gully steps out front and says, "Now the incomparable Miss Jacky will put aside her instruments and dance," and he hits "Smash the Windows," and I steps out and I shows 'em how it's done.

We do song after song and then we take a break and I go to Maudie and say for her to give me an ap.r.o.n and I help serve the crowd and I learn to back up from a tableful of men without turning around, after the first time I get my tail pinched, and then I go back on the stage and we do more songs and dances and I tell a story or two and we wind up when Maudie rings the closing bell.

There are tips thrown on the stage and left on the tables and pressed in my hand. Some try to put the tips down my front after I take off my sailor s.h.i.+rt, but I don't let 'em.

"Look at it all!" I exclaims, wrapping my hands greedily around the pile of coins on the table. The night is over and the patrons have left and the door is locked and Maudie is cleaning up.

"Aye," says Gully. "And now we'll split it and then we'll have a bit of a drink. The Fiddler's Dram, as it were. Seventy-five-twenty-five, right?"

"In a pig's eye," I says, all indignant. "It's fifty-fifty or I walk out of here and don't come back."

"But I'm the one with the experience and the one what protects you down here," says Gully.

"And I'm the one what packed the place," says I. "It's fifty-fifty or I walk." Don't try to scam a Cheapside scammer, Gully, I thinks.

"All right. All right," he says, and slides a dime in front of him and a nickel in front of me. "A big one for you, and a small one for me."

"I may be a serving-girl, but I ain't stupid, Gully. Here, I'll divide it." And I do it and he sighs and takes his portion and drops it in his pocket and goes to the bar and says, "Let's have a b.u.mper, Maudie."

"Just a beer for you, Rummy, you know that," says Maudie, pouring out a drink and taking his coin. She draws me a pint of ale and slides it over to me, saying, "Here, La.s.s, thanks for helping me out during the rush. It's the best night I've had in a long while." I stick my nose in it and I must admit it goes down easy, my throat being dry as dust from the singing. She also slides Gully's coin over to me, but I leave it on the bar.

Gully gulps down his drink and puts the Lady Lenore under his arm and heads for the door.

"Good night, Maudie," he says, bowing low. "And good night to you, my lovely Little Miss Moneymaker. I'll see you here tomorrow night. There's more s.h.i.+ps due in and we'll make some serious money." He starts out the door but then stops and sticks his head back in. "Oh, and work on the bridge on 'The Blackberry Blossom.' You're a bit clumsy on that."

Maudie watches him go and says, "He won't be standin' upright inside of an hour, and all his money will be gone," she says and shakes her head. Then she looks sharp at me. "It's a shame, it is, but it would be even more of a shame if he drags a nice girl like you down with him. Jacky, never, ever, trust a drunk."

When I get back to the school, I slide behind the bushes and find that my rope is still in place and I get up it quickly, and then, when I'm on the rungs, I untie the bowline knot and sling the rope over my shoulder and climb up to my room.

I quietly close the window and hide the rope in a corner. I put my concertina and my sailor togs back in my seabag. Back when I got busted for bringing disgrace on my school, I had put all my things that I felt were absolutely necessary for me making my way in the world into my seabag, and all my things that I could get along without into my sea chest. In case I have to bolt and run.

I spread out a handkerchief on the bed and then put my bunch of coins on it and look at it. The start of my ticket back to England and Jaimy. I tie up the four corners of the kerchief and put it in my seabag.

It was a good night and my blood still pounds in my veins. They loved us! How they clapped and hooted! I sit on my bed and I put my arms between my knees and rock back and forth in joy. They really liked me, they really did!

Chapter 18.

It's Thursday and I'm on the breakfast serving crew and I slide the bowl of oatmeal in front of Amy and with it I slide a folded note. The note says: Thanks for keeping Miss Howe from beating me. If you really want to still be my friend then you will come down to the town with me after the noon meal. Meet me at the front door.

Jacky I've set it up with Peg to get the afternoon off 'cause I got to see Ezra again and I got some other stuff in mind. The girls will take up my slack 'cause they know I'll make it up to them, and I will.

The morning goes quickly and I'm excited about getting out in the daytime. I was out last night again and Gully and I blew 'em out of the water for sure. The word had got around about us and we had twice the crowd and made twice the money. The place was full and Maudie had a real glow to her cheeks as she dealt out the tankards and scooped in the coins. I had got the feeling she was about to lose the Pig before and now she's got hope and it brings joy to my heart.

I had gotten back late last night and added my coins to my stash and stuck it down deep in my seabag. Then I went back up on the widow's walk to think and calm down from the rowdiness of the night.

I glanced over at the Preacher's room, but his usual haunt was dark. Maybe he slept. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe he was out visiting with sick paris.h.i.+oners. Whatever he is doing, I thought, he ain't after me right now. I looked back over my shoulder to make sure of that. It made me wonder how Ezra's going on my case.

I had put my hands on the railing and looked out over the city and thought: This school is my s.h.i.+p, I now realize, and I've got to ride her, at least for now. There is nothing from Jaimy or the others. Nothing. I am alone and cast adrift. So. The front of the school is the bow and the side with my window is the starboard beam and the blind side close to the church is port and the stern points toward the stables and the whole thing is carrying me along through this part of my life and I have just about as much control of it as I did of the Dolphin, but it is what I have. This widow's walk is my foretop now.

One thing that was a bit sour last night was that Gully drank too much toward the end of the evening and turned surly. Maybe he had got into some spirits at another tavern, or maybe he had a bottle stashed. He kept going on about being the Hero of Culloden Moor and how the King's soldiers had gone about after the battle and killed the vanquished Scottish wounded where they lay and how the awfulness of that day haunts him every waking hour. The drink didn't affect his playing none, 'cause he didn't really start actin' bad till late in the evening when our act was nearly done, but still ... It was like he wanted to fight with the whole world. Even with me, I found, as I had to duck the back of his hand as it came toward my face. I stayed out of his way after that by helping Maudie clean up. Bob finally had to put him out.

"Don't worry so, Miss," I says to Amy. I give her a nudge to get her out the door. "We're just a lady and her maid going downtown to do some business. What's the harm in that?"

"If Mistress catches us we will be whipped in front of the other girls and I will cry and be humiliated."

"Did she say you weren't allowed out?"

"No..."

"Well, there you go."

"But we do not have an escort," she says, and I look over and see that she is trying to be brave but she quavers. "I have never been out in the city without my parents."

Oh, you are a baby, Miss Amy.

"Don't worry, Miss Amy, nothing's going to happen to you today."