Mississippi Jack: Being an Account of the Further Waterborne Adventures of Jacky Faber, Midshipman, Fine Lady, and Lily of the West (43 page)

There was a silence, then Richard Allen spoke. "Very well. But for that time only."

At that we had gone down and got to work.

"All right, Sergeant Bailey, we'll just dab on this healing ointment and soon you'll be your jolly, pink-cheeked self again ... There!"

"Thankee, Miss," says the rough-and-tumble soldier. "We're obliged to ye."

"No thanks necessary, Sergeant. We all will do our duty, will we not?"

I stand and go over to confront Captain Allen, who has not uttered a single word the whole time. Smoking a cigar, he merely slouched in a chair, his booted legs crossed. Unsmiling, he watched me go about my business. "We are through here, Captain. I'll be back after we've disposed of Flashby and Moseley, and then maybe we'll talk about a more permanent parole for you and your men."

"You haven't killed them yet?" he asks with raised eyebrows. "I heard shots."

"That was the calm and steady Lieutenant Flashby, a credit to the Royal Navy, firing at shadows," I answer. "And no, I am not going to kill them—merely render them harmless. No matter what the world may say about me, I have never killed any man in cold blood, nor have I tortured anybody."

"I'm sure Flashby will be glad to find that out." A slight smile crosses his features. I'm certain
he
was glad, in a way, to find that I was not a murderess, just as I was relieved when I found out that he did not know what evil business Moseley and Flashby were up to.

"True, but he won't find it out for a while yet. A considerable while. Now,
adieu,
Captain Allen," I say as I pull out the chair from his crossed feet, which thump to the deck. "And next time, stand up when ladies enter a room. Come, girls, let us find less barbarous company."

"
Adieu,
Jacky," says the rogue, rising to his feet and sending a puff of smoke in my direction. He bows deeply. "Till later, Captain Faber."

***

Upon returning to my ship, I gave orders for both boats to weigh anchor and get under way. When we were well into the stream and moving smartly along, I went aft to my cabin, and,
Oh, how good it looks. I thought I'd never see it again!
Higgins helped me into my splendid Royal Navy lieutenant's gear—the blue jacket with gold lace running through the turned-out lapels, and the white lace at my throat, and the white britches tucked into my gleaming black riding boots. Pity I don't have my sword
Persephone
once more hanging by my side, she being at the bottom of the Atlantic, or, as I like to think, in her namesake's grasp, down there in Hades, but oh, well...

I leisurely dressed and took some refreshment, too, while Jim Tanner acted upon my orders to get us downstream for a good bit before dealing with Moseley and Flashby.
Let those two rotters cool their heels and sweat a bit,
I thought as I stuck my nose in a fine cup of tea and ate what Higgins put before me. After a while, I estimated we were a good four miles downriver from our last anchorage and figured it was far enough. I did not want Moseley and Flashby to be in any territory they might recognize.

"And now for these two," I say as I go back into the cabin of the
Belle
and gaze upon my two very worried-looking captives. They look at me in wonder, for not only do I have on the uniform of the Royal Naval Service, I also have my two new pistols stuck in the leather straps that cross my chest.

"You note with admiration my fine uniform, gentlemen? Oh yes, don't we military types just love to dress up for executions?" I purr. "Oh, Matthew, Nathaniel, will you be so good as to go set up the plank? And make sure it's a stout one, as Mr. Moseley here must go at least three hundred pounds, and we wouldn't want to botch things, would we? And Mr. Cantrell, would this not be an excellent time for you to fire up one of your fine cheroots and have a smoke?"

I look at Flashby as I say this, and he turns an even paler shade of white, but it is Moseley who asks, "Surely, you can't be serious? Walking the plank? Drowning us? In this day and age?"

"My dear Mr. Moseley. Haven't you seen the bulletin that names me as
La Belle Jeune Fille sans Merci,
'the merciless female pirate'? That is the charge, after all, that you were taking me back to London to face,
hmmm?
And as a pirate, I can do none other than humbly request that you walk the plank. It would be a violation of the Pirate Code, Article Sixteen, paragraph eight, for me to fail to do so. If I were found out, I would be drummed out of the Pirate Brotherhood, forever. Nay, gentlemen, it is the plank for you." I poke my finger in the air. "After all, it's tradition!"

I do love a bit of dramatic theater.

"It's absurd!" shouts Moseley. I don't think Flashby is able to speak at all. His eyes are on Yancy, who is puffing up his cigar to a fine glow.

"As absurd as paying a bounty on the scalps of women?" I ask, no longer with the bantering tone. "The scalps of children, for God's sake?"

He ain't got no answer to that.

I sit myself in a chair next to Flashby and reach down and pull up the leg of my britches to show the burn marks. "Damn!" says Yancy. "Oh, you poor little thang," say Honeysuckle Rose and Tupelo Honey together. "They sure got it comin'," says Daniel. Yancy hands me the cigar, its end gleaming a fiery orange-red.

The legs of Flashby's drawers come down to just above his trembling knees. I delicately lift up the fabric of the left one to expose the same area on him that he had branded on me. I purse my lips and blow on the ash.

"Plank's ready, Skipper," calls Nathaniel down into the hold.

Heaving a sigh of regret, I look Flashby in the eyes and say, "Too bad, isn't it, that I can't repay kindness for kindness? But we must get on with things, mustn't we?"

I hand the cheroot back to Yancy Cantrell and stand up.

"Mr. Moseley first, if you please, Mr. Hawkes. Reverend Clawson, do you have your Bible?"

The Reverend nods sadly and takes his position at the head of the line that will be formed. Matthew and Nathaniel untie Moseley's feet and lift him from the chair, leaving his hands tied behind him, and all three take their place behind the Preacher. I fall in at the rear.

"All right, let's go," I say, as I bow my head and put my hands together in the aspect of prayer.

"Lo that I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear not evil for Thou art with me...," intones Reverend Clawson, as he begins the long walk to the hatchway and thence to the plank. I sneak a look back at Flashby. His eyes are wildly staring, and he struggles vainly in his bonds.
Good for you, you bastard!

Out in the light, we put Moseley up at the foot of the plank.

"Have you any last words, Sir?" I ask.

"Only that I'll see you in Hell, you monster!"

With that, the fiend Jacky whips a thin strip of rag about his face and into his mouth and ties the ends at the back of his head, so that he can no longer inform Flashby, who is back in the cabin with the door wide open, what is happening to him. I nod to Jim and he guides the
Belle
into the shallow water next to the bank.

"Reverend?"

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."

I put my lips up to Moseley's ear. "Go and sin no more!" and with that, I cut his wrist bonds, place my booted foot on his ample arse, and push him into the shallow water.

We watch to see him hit the water with a satisfying splash, which is sure to be heard by Flashby below, and then we see him gain his feet, stumble and fall, and then finally make the bank.

As he tries to get the gag out of his mouth, I call softly to him, "Why not look up Half Red Face now and see how hospitable he might be? Now that you have no money or power."

I turn to Jim. "Let's steer over to the other bank. I don't want these two to have the comfort of each other's company." He nods and puts the tiller over. "Nathaniel," I call out to the other boat, "steady as you go. Keep steering south. We'll join up with you after we've sent Flashby off to his reward." He gives me the thumbs-up and the boats begin to part. Lightfoot, Katy, and Chee-a-quat are on the prison boat, armed to the teeth, to make sure there's no funny business from Allen and his men. On the
Belle
I put Solomon on port aft sweep and Clementine and me on the starboard one, and we all pull hard for the other bank.

"I think this will do. Up, sweeps," I say as we drift in close to the Arkansas shore. "Keep her parallel to the shore, Jim." For Flashby's benefit I call out, "Rig the plank on the starboard side! The water's deeper there! All right, bring up the prisoner!" In reality the water is only about four feet, but it's muddy and the bottom cannot be seen.

Higgins, Reverend Clawson, and Yancy Cantrell go below. There are sounds of struggle and desperate pleas for mercy ...
No, no, I beg you, please...
but presently the Reverend reappears holding his Bible and reading a prayer, followed by Higgins and Yancy, supporting the condemned between them.

Flashby looks wildly about, sees me at the foot of the plank, and tries to wriggle away, all to no avail. He is placed on the plank and forced to the middle of it, with eternity, as I'm sure he thinks, waiting in the swirling waters below.

"Come, Lieutenant Flashby, let us do this thing in a proper military manner, eh, what? You don't want to make a bad show of it, do you? I thought not—the Honor of the Service and all. A little farther out now, Sir, if you please."

We shove him out to the end.

"Good. Oh my, Mr. Flashby, I fear you've gone and soiled your drawers.
Tsk, tsk.
Ah well, they'll soon be washed clean, as will your soul, I'm sure ... after a few eternities in Hell, that is. Oh, but I do ramble on, and I'm sorry for it. I'm sure you want to get this done quickly,
hmm?
Very well, then. Do you have any last words, Mr. Flashby?"

He is unable to speak. I look in his face—his eyes have become glazed, unfocused.

"Well then, good-bye, Mr. Flashby. Give my regards to the Devil."

I take my shiv and quickly slice through the cords that bind his wrists, then give him a poke with the point of my blade in his left buttock.

He screams as he goes over, a scream that is cut short by the water that fills his open mouth. He goes under, but he bobs back up and stands looking in amazement at his unbound hands. Then he looks up at me, standing at the rail as the
Belle
pulls away from him.

"Burn me, will you?" I ask. I work up a gob of spit and send it down at him, and then I turn and see Lieutenant Flashby no more.

The prison barge has gained about a mile of downstream yardage on us, what with our crossing back and forth, but with all four sweeps going, we soon catch up and pull ahead. I'm going to have to come up with a name for the other boat.

"Good work, all!" I call out so both boats can hear. "We shall all have a fine dinner tonight in celebration!"

This is greeted with a cheer, from my crew, at least. We hear nothing from Captain Allen's.

Seeing everything shipshape, I go forward to seek out Higgins.

"Higgins, will you give me a bit of a brushup and comb, as I intend to go see Richard ... er ... Captain Allen about his parole?"

"Of course, Miss Faber," says Higgins, very formally.

Uh-oh.
When Higgins addresses me so, it means I've stepped over the line on something and he means to correct me on it. He follows me to the aft cabin and I plop myself down in a chair and he gets to work on my unruly thatch.

"Out with it, Higgins, what have I done this time?"

After reflecting for a moment, he says, "It appears to me, Miss, that we have not been seeing you at your best during the past several hours."

"What? Because I threw a bit of a scare into those two rotters? They certainly had it coming, what they planned to do, what they did to me! You spend the night stuffed into a tiny box and see how charitable you feel about those who put you there!"

"I'm sorry, Miss. They should not have hurt you and they should not have been inciting the Indians to riot. However, if you begin adopting the practices of bad people, you run the danger of becoming one yourself. I'll say no more on it."

"Y'know, Higgins, it's sometimes hard traveling with your conscience right by your side, always ready to appeal to your better nature, a nature you might not even have."

"Please don't pout. It doesn't become you. I merely ask you to think about what I said."

"I'm not sorry. When I think of little kids being ... no, I'm not sorry."

"Very well, Miss. There, I believe that's the best we can do with this. You are presentable, at least, and can now go and present yourself to Richard ... er ... Captain Allen," he says, putting up his comb.

Grrrrr. Why can you always see right through me, Higgins?

I stand and get a final brush off.

"Will you come with me, Higgins? As my protector?"

"Of course, Miss. Let us go."

I rap on the cabin top of the prison boat. "Truce! For a parley! Agreed?"

There is a pause, then Captain Allen growls, "Agreed."

I unlock the door and enter the hatchway and Higgins follows.

Allen is seated at the table, again with his booted feet up in a chair. He looks at me in my lieutenant's rig and I'm pleased to see that his eyebrows lift as far as they are able to do so. He gets up and bows, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"That's much better," I say. "May I present my First Mate, Mr. John Higgins? Mr. Higgins, Captain Lord Richard Allen, Royal Dragoons." The two exchange slight bows. "Mr. Higgins distinguished himself at the Battle of Trafalgar and is quite expert with those pistols you see." I had doffed my pistol belts back in the cabin, figuring them to be a bit too much. "Shall we be seated?"

We sit down and I continue. "We are here to discuss your parole. Will you give your solemn promise that you will not try to harm us if we let you out of here?" The other men are grouped in the rear, with some probably stretched out in the cabins. I'm sure they are listening avidly.

"And what will we get in return?"

"The freedom of this boat. You will be allowed to steer and row it and remain in our company. You not having weapons, I would advise you to stay close to us in this wild land so that we might protect you."