Mississippi Jack: Being an Account of the Further Waterborne Adventures of Jacky Faber, Midshipman, Fine Lady, and Lily of the West (18 page)

"You agree with what was just said, girl?" I demand.

The girl nods, not looking me in the eye.

"She is mute, Miss Faber. That is all the answer you shall get from her, I'm afraid."

I think on all this, and I decide.

"Give me your hand on it, Mr. Cantrell," I say, as I walk to the gangway and extend mine. I feel the touch of his palm and know that his hand has never felt labor of any kind. He squeezes my hand and then raises it to his lips.

"Thank you, Miss Faber. I do not think you will regret your decision."

"I hope I shall not, Mr. Cantrell," I reply, withdrawing my hand and looking at him with my level gaze.

"And now, Miss Faber, I would like to move aboard, as I would rather give what money I have to you, rather than to some inn. Is that agreeable?"

We are more than a few days from departure, but what could it hurt?

"That will be acceptable, Sir. However, you shall have to take your dinners onshore, as we have not yet set up our kitchen," I explain.

"That will be just fine, Miss Faber," answers Mr. Cantrell. "I will take my leave now to go collect our luggage." With that, he bows again and turns to leave, walking back up the dock, the long-legged black girl loping in his wake.

Well,
I think, and turn back to my task. According to my calculations with my dividers, Cincinnati is about four hundred and seventy-five miles downstream, so at twelve cents a mile, that works out to fifty-seven dollars, more or less, which seems fair, considering the fact that we are providing both food and entertainment. So that means that passage to Cairo in Illinois Territory will cost—

"Faber?"

Hearing this, I lift my head and look to the dock. Standing there is a woman, about five feet tall and three feet wide, a solid woman built like a door. She is dressed in a skirt of what I take to be leather, a fringed shirt of the same, and a red headband around her brow. Her hair is black, with streaks of white, and it is braided into two pigtails that are bound with bright ribbons. In her hands she holds the hilts of at least three knives and several pans.

"You must be Crow Jane," I say, somewhat taken aback at her appearance.

"Yep. Cook. Lookin' fer work. You the boss?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"Whatcha got?"

"Well..."

"Lemme look at yer fire," she says, and with that she steps aboard, her saucepans clanking about her. She heads for the hatchway down into the hold. I meekly follow her.

She rattles around the stove, opening doors and lifting lids. She checks out the wood stacked next to it, picking up a piece and holding it to her cheek. She nods in apparent approval and then examines the sleeping quarters.

"All right. What pay?"

"Uh...," I stammer, "...a dollar a day, room and board. A cut of any prizes." That last part sort of slipped out.

She turns to look at me, with black eyes 'neath lowered black brows. "Prizes? I ain't heard of
prizes
before."

"Prizes are anything we can take ... steal, like," I say, lamely.

She gives a grunt of a laugh. "All right, then." She puts her pans on the stove and throws a sack I had not noticed before on the bunk that was to be hers. Her knives go into a slot on the side of the stove. Then she looks at me, sizing me up, I suspect. "Whatcha got fer crew?"

"Well, we have two girls, me being one of them, one young lad, and one big man," I say.

"You'll need more. At least two strong men. You got the Rapids of the Ohio to get through. Cave-in-Rock, too. More stuff after that. Where's yer supplies—flour and lard and such?"

"Down here below," I say, showing her the entrance to the lower hold. "Do you know of any that might serve?"

"Might. The Hawkes boys are both in the jailhouse. Due to get out tomorrow. Nathaniel and Matthew Hawkes. They're good boys if you can keep 'em away from strong likker and wild women. Good boatmen, too. Grew up on the river. If you want 'em, best pick 'em up right from the jailhouse and bring 'em here. Don't give 'em no money or they'll just get in trouble ag'in. I'll go with you when you pick 'em up. They'll mind me."

What could I say to that? I now have a cook and some additional crew. I hope I have done right.

But now I must put all that out of my mind. I must finish up my distance figuring, compose an advertising poster for the
Belle,
and then take it up to the printer on Market Street. When I return, I need to get ready for tonight's show.

That night, during the second show, all was going really well, when, in the midst of me doing "Billy Broke Locks," there was the sound of a tremendous fight going on down the street. There were shouts and gunfire going off, and in the midst of it all, there was an oddly familiar roar that I could not quite place. Higgins went to the door to see what was up. He was gone for a short while, and when he returned, he reported, "It was a big riot going on down at the White Horse. The sheriff and his crew arrived and are beating men to the ground with truncheons. It seems to be ending. Even as we speak, men are being dragged off to jail."

"None of our concern, mates!" I crow. "Stay here and be gay, for there's nothing but trouble down there, and nothing but good fun here!"

And so they stayed and so we played, far, far into the night.

Jaimy Fletcher
At Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA

Jacky,

We got into Pittsburgh in the early evening and I suggested to Mike that we might put up for the night along the wooded shore and resume our search in the full light of day, the better to give me some time to work things out between you two, but he would have none of it.

"No, b'God! Mike Fink don't wait when there's killin' to be done! Nope, he gets right down to it and sends them souls directly to Heaven or Hell, dependin' on their inclinations, and I suspects that Jacky Goddamn Faber is goin' to the lower regions 'cause God don't put up with people who steal other people's boats. No, he don't," said Fink with great resolution and firmness of purpose in his voice. "Hey!" He sat up straight and pointed off to port. "That looks like my boat! Pull over there!"

With Clementine steaming behind me, I rowed in that direction.

***

Clementine has been steaming a lot, ever since she found out that not only are you not a boy, but, worse yet, my betrothed.

"That mean you gonna marry her, Jaimy?" she asked last night when we finally camped onshore, her hot eyes brimming with tears.

"I don't know what anything means anymore, Clementine," I answered wearily, "but I meant what I said: I won't leave you."

"What you gonna do, keep me in a shed out back of yer place when you marries her? Is that what you mean to do, Jaimy?"

"No, I don't. Now come over here and give me a kiss, and hush, now. Hush."

"Do you love me, Jaimy?"

I took a breath, held it, and then exhaled.

"Yes, I do, Clementine."

She waited a moment and then came over and lay next to me and put her hot, tearful face next to mine.

"I was so happy then, Jaimy, before ... when it was just you and me on the road." She snuffled. "So happy..."

"Now, now. You'll be happy again, Clementine," I said. "I promise."

"It shore looks like my boat, but what are them lumpy things on deck? And what does that say on the side?" asked Fink, squinting in the gloom.

"It says 'Belle of the Golden West,' and I don't know what those things are," I said, trying to figure a way to divert his attention. It was his boat, all right, and I knew damned well what those canvas-covered things were: They were guns. I reflected that it did not take long for
La Belle Jeune Fille sans Merci
to commandeer a ship and rearm herself. "Let's put in there and then go check out the taverns. That's where she's most likely to be, night falling as it is."

"All right," growled Fink. "I could use a drink, anyhow. Do it."

I steered toward a landing, breathing a small sigh of relief as we hit the shore. If he had gone directly to the boat, all hell would have broken loose. I had recognized Jim Tanner standing guard on the deck of that boat. There's no mistake.
You are somewhere in this town, Jacky.

Mike jumped out of the boat and headed toward the lights of the town, which were just now being lit.

I jumped out after him and said to Clementine, "You stay here and watch our stuff. Give me the pistol."

She handed it to me and said, "Oh, Jaimy, stay here with me! She ain't worth it, please, Jaimy..."

"Now, Clementine, I will be careful. You'll see."

And with that I scrambled after Fink, who was heading full tilt for the nearest tavern.

"Mike, wait!" I panted as I caught up with him. For a huge man, he can certainly move fast. I looked up and found we were at the entrance of the White Horse Tavern. From up the street, at another tavern, I heard applause and then a female voice say, "Thank you, thank you, you are all too kind. I would like to sing you now a song from the days of your glorious revolution, 'Billy Broke Locks.'" I knew in an instant it was you, and it was all I could do to keep myself from bolting up the street. But what I thought was good sense prevailed: I couldn't let Mike Fink at you just yet.

"Let's ask in here," I said to Mike, and shoved him in the door of the White Horse Tavern.

It was dark and smoky and smelled strongly of every bit of spilled beer or whiskey that ever soaked into the floor, but not smoky enough to keep us hidden from view. As soon as we stepped in, someone said, "Christ, it's Fink!"

"Goddamn right, it's Fink," roared Mike. "Now give him a drink a-fore he kicks some serious ass!"

"You got any money, Mike?" asked the landlord, fixing a suspicious eye on my companion.

"Hell, yes, I got money," said Mike, sticking out his lower lip. "So set 'em up!"

"Wal, then, Mike," said the landlord, "mebbe you kin pay me back for the damage you done last time you was in my place, drunker'n a skunk!"

Mike was outraged.

"
HOLD ME BACK! HOLD ME BACK! I'M A RING-TAILED ROARER AND ABOUT TO DO SOME DAMAGE! OOOOOWEEEEE! I'M A-GONNA CUT EVER ONE IN THIS PLACE A NEW—
"

"You ain't gonna cut nothin', Mike," said a voice from the shadows. Into the light steps the hugest man I have ever seen. "'Cause I'm a-gonna toss yer dried-up carcass outta here, right now."

Mike Fink reared back and fixed his eye on this newcomer to the discussion.

"Wal, wal," he said, nodding his head in appreciation of the new situation here. "If it ain't Man Mountain Murphy, the biggest, stupidest, and ugliest man on the frontier. Heard you had a new job, Murphy—"

"Wha's that?" rumbled this mountain of a man.

"Standin' out in front of a doctor's office, makin' people sick." Mike chortled. "Ha! I heard that ugly sits on you like stink on—"

"And I heard," said Man Mountain Murphy in a curiously high, piping voice, "that some little slip of a girl done stole Mikey Fink's boat. Tha's what I heard."

That did it.

Mike brought back his right fist and slammed it straight into Murphy's jaw. Murphy rocked back on his heels, but re-covered quickly and grabbed Mike in a great bear hug, and together they staggered to the door and out into the street, the riotous crowd within following the fracas and egging on the participants.

I, too, went back out into the street, but not to enjoy the spectacle, oh, no—I was thinking this was an excellent time to race up the street, whilst Mike was otherwise engaged, burst into the tavern in which you were playing, be joyously reunited, tell you of Mike Fink's murderous intentions, and then light the hell out.

Such was not to be. As the main combatants fell to wrestling on the ground, other members of the audience chose sides and tempers flared. It seemed that Mike was not without friends in this port, and other fights erupted. I heard whistles blown and curses shouted and knew it would not be long before the police arrived. As I slunk away from the action, a hand fell on my shoulder and I was turned around.

"Friend of that Fink, ain't-cha, farm boy," said a grizzled old cove, and a fist exploded on the side of my jaw. I was dazed and confused. I tried to lift my fists to strike back, but I found I could not. "You like that, boy? Well, here's some more."

I was slammed on the other side of my jaw and I went to my knees, in shock. Then the man who was beating me was hauled back, and I dimly perceived a policeman telling me to get down on the ground, and then when I did not understand what he was saying, he brought his club around and struck me on the back of my head.

My last conscious memory that night was of Clementine shouting, "No! No! Git off him! Leave him alone! Git off my man!
"

Notice

All Persons Desirous of Waterborne Transport to
Louisville, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and Beyond
A Voyage to those Places will be Undertaken by

Belle of the Golden West

A Finely Fitted-out River Cruiser
which will be Departing Shortly
Possessing all of the Amenities including
Fine Wines, Spirits, and Tobacco.
Breakfast, Dinner, and Supper will be
Available for your Pleasure.

Entertainment Nightly

The Fare Being 12 cents a Mile Traveled:
Louisville $38
Cincinnati $57
St. Louis $93
New Orleans $234

The Belle of the Golden West can be viewed at the Publick
Dock, and Reservations can be made at the Sign of the
General Butler. Measures have been taken to ensure
Passenger Safety when under way.

"Now, ain't that fine, Higgins?" I say, holding up one of my new posters. It's morning and they have just been delivered. I am again dressed in my finest clothes, since I will be going to the jail to bail out two miscreants. I want to look my best, responsible citizen and all, so it's the riding habit again. If fortune smiles on me in the future, I mean to get some new clothes. Maybe in New Orleans, as they are sure to have the latest fashions.

"Yes, Miss," says Higgins, pouring the morning tea. "And in the best of taste, too, echoing the refinement of the name of this vessel, painted on its sides. I am especially fond of the curlicues on each of the letters. Serifs, I believe they are called."