Mississippi Jack: Being an Account of the Further Waterborne Adventures of Jacky Faber, Midshipman, Fine Lady, and Lily of the West (6 page)

Up in the morning and back on horse. It is the fourth day out and we have turned, at Katy's direction, from the Boston Post Road, which I know from asking our last innkeeper would have led us to New York City, a town I mean to visit someday, but not just yet. This road immediately gets narrower and rougher, but I believe my male companions are bearing up better, now that they've had some time to shake off the kinks of easy city living.

The road widens, so I pull up next to Higgins, and we ride knee to knee, each of us lost in thought. After a bit, I say, "I want to thank you again for my rescue, Higgins. It was a very fine thing."

"Thanks are not necessary, except perhaps to God. It was very lucky that the Fennel and Bean Nonesuch Players were doing
Fanny, the Pride of the Regiment,
so that we had the proper British uniforms for our little deception."

I consider this, then I reply, "Yes, I have had a great amount of luck in this life, and not all of it was bad. But I have enjoyed the greatest of good luck in having the love and protection of my friends."

"Well said, Miss."

"Well, I try. But what is this 'Fanny' play?"

"It was penned by Messrs. Bean and Fennel themselves. It is short on substance but high on wild plot twists, risqué antics, and outrageous theatricals. Much like your own life to date, Miss."

"Higgins, you wound me."

"I was merely making a jest, Miss."

"
Hmmm...
"

"One thing, though, that has me mystified. Messrs. Fennel and Bean have reported to me that you have often been offered the role of Cordelia in
Lear
and have always absolutely refused to do it. This strikes me as peculiar when in fact you have done other doomed heroines—Ophelia, Lady Macduff, even Lady Macbeth, herself, once, and thought nothing of it. Why is that?"

"It's 'cause Cordelia gets hanged at the end, and the Nonesuch Players have got that grisly scene down pat, believe me—the noosing, the kicked-out chair, Cordelia's vain struggles—and I've got a thing about that ... like I still have the feeling that I'm going to end up that way. Dangling at the end of a rope."

Higgins considers this for a while, then says, "Well, considering your lifestyle, that's not an implausible fear. However, could not living, as a child, in the shadow of Newgate Prison have something to do with that fear?"

"I don't know," says I, wanting to change the subject. I turn back to Katy, behind me. "What's the chance of us finding a good inn?"

"Pretty good. There's one 'bout fifteen miles up ahead, at a fork in the road. Prolly the last one like it 'fore we hit the frontier. Then things get right meager in that way. We'll prolly be sleepin' out some. Prolly a lot."

That doesn't rile Jim Tanner, but it sure raises one of Higgins's eyebrows.

"Then I intend to enjoy my last night as a civilized human," says he, "before I turn into a red savage."

The inn, the Martin in the Maples in the town of Port Jervis, turns out to be in New York State, and seems to be snug and comfortable, and I arrange to play a set that night in return for tips. I tried to wrangle lodging, but it was no go.
Damn cheap Yankees.
After we were settled in, I sent Jim to try to round up an audience, but he found slim pickings out there, that's for sure. Still, we had a small crowd of about fifteen people that night, mostly horse traders and plowboys, and farmers come into the town to sell their produce, and they were jolly enough. I began with "In the Good Old Colony Times" and followed that with "Springfield Mountain"—no singing, just the fiddle—and topped it off with a Scottish dance. I told some stories and some jokes and then played some more tunes. The pennywhistle was new to many of them, they being mostly of Dutch stock, but they loved my fiddle and were astounded by my dancing. Nothing they'd ever let their daughters do, but still fun to watch. The tips made it worthwhile, and I did love getting back into performance.

It was the first time Jim had seen me do my full act, and I think he was charmed. Katy, too, shook her head and said in wonder, "If that don't just beat all," as I dipped and took my final bows.

After all is done and the place is closed, we all go to bed. An extra mattress not being available in this place, Higgins is in a chair, with feet propped up and pistols in his lap, facing the door. Katy is in bed to my right, and Jim Tanner is out with the horses. Rather reluctantly with the horses, I think. From the ardent glances he cast my way as I was performing, I think he'd rather have Higgins out in the barn and himself in here between Katy and me, but, no, that is not to be, young Jim.

Before I sleep this night, though, I cannot help but think back on the events of the last week, and tears trickle down my cheeks and onto the pillowcase.

Oh, Jaimy, for you to have had to stand there and not say a word as I was stood up and shamed and then taken off the
Juno,
knowing, as you did, that if you raised too much of a fuss, Higgins's charade would have been uncovered and all would have been lost. I am so very hard on my friends.

And now, Jaimy, you are being taken back to England, once again half a world away from me. I do hope that no harm comes to you because of my actions, and while Higgins tells me not to worry in that regard, still I worry. I don't know ... So many things can go wrong in this world, and things generally do go wrong.

Aye, maybe it would be best if you found another girl when you get back to England, for as you know, I am nothing but trouble and grief. And one of these days my luck has got to run out, virtuewise. Will you still want me then? I don't know. I don't know anything. But I know I will always love you, Jaimy, no matter what you do, and where you go. I want you to know that, Jaimy.

G'night, now...

I give a sniffle and maybe a slight sob and Higgins's hand reaches out in the darkness and gives my shoulder a comforting pat.
Good Higgins—you always know, don't you...

Ex-Lieutenant James Emerson Fletcher
Howe's Tavern on the Post Road
Massachusetts, USA

Miss Jacky Faber
Somewhere up ahead of me on the road west
In the wilderness, Massachusetts, USA

My Dearest Jacky,

Again I write to your absent self, but this time I am completely confident that we will very shortly be united for good and ever.

I am here at the very same lodging that you stayed in a scant two days ago. I swear I can smell your scent on the breeze, I am getting that close! It is with the utmost regret that I stop for the night in my pursuit of you, but I feel that I must, for safety's sake and for the sake of sleep. And so, by lamplight, I sit here and pen this letter, in hopes that you (or our children, should we be so blessed) will read it and be entertained.

I found, upon closely questioning the landlord here at Howe's Tavern, that your own dear self and those of your party had been here and left the next day intending to head for the Allegheny River. (I know that Higgins and Jim Tanner are with you, and for that I thank God, but who is the other girl? Never mind, all shall soon be plain.)

After finding out, upon further inquiry, into what other river the Allegheny flows, I believe I now know your mind on where you plan to go and how you plan to get there. I chuckle to think that it is so much like you to seek out open water when you are on the run, or otherwise in trouble, which is, of course, virtually all of the time. I have been chuckling a lot for the past day, knowing that I will soon have you in my arms, from which embrace I vow you shall never again escape.

I hope you are not dismayed, given your deep sense of loyalty to our Service, to find that I have left the Royal Navy, and I left it quite abruptly, having dived overboard as the
Juno
was being warped out of Boston Harbor. I don't care. If a career in the Naval Service means the loss of you, then the hell with it. I'll find something else to do. Maybe join the Hottentot Navy, eh, what? It was reassuring to me, though, to find out that I could indeed swim, as I had not tried before.

But all of that is of no matter, as I am sure to catch up with you the day after tomorrow, at the very latest, and we shall have a leisurely cruise down these American rivers to wherever they may take us, in, I hope, a state of wedded bliss. On that, I can but hope, but I have lingering doubts, to wit: I know that you have been on the stage, and while I know that you are an accomplished actress, still, when you stood on the deck of the
Juno
and denied me so convincingly, so chillingly convincingly, well, I don't know what to think. I am but a poor fool when it comes to understanding you, Jacky. But I trust that all will be resolved when we meet.

I have been provided with ample money from our friends in Boston, especially from Miss Trevelyne, Miss Howe, and Mademoiselle de Lise. Such fine friends you have, Jacky. I have directed Ezra Pickering, another invaluable friend to both of us, as I do not need to tell you, to contact my father in London for restitution of these funds, which, incidentally, I keep safe upon my person. Restitution will be quickly made, I am sure, since Fletcher & Sons Wine Merchants has prospered since we recovered the losses we incurred from the depredations of a certain female pirate ... ahem, excuse me,
privateer.
Don't worry, you will make it up to me, oh, count on that, but not in monetary ways. Oh, no. I have many other, much more pleasant things in mind.

Your Mistress Pimm, upon presenting me with a fine horse from her school stables, said to me, "Go, young man, and find her and bring our lost sheep back to us. As I perceive you to be a gentleman, I trust you will treat her honorably."

I nodded at that and said I would, but I spoke the truth only up to a certain point. Actually, upon finding you, I intend, honorably, to haul you up in front of the nearest preacher, or what passes for a preacher out in this godforsaken wilderness, say the words, and then find a bed or convenient patch of grass, strip you of your garments, lay you down on your back, and again, honorably, finally and completely consummate our union. I have waited and suffered long enough.

That is sufficient for now. Suffice to say, there will be portions of this letter that will not be read to the children. Especially to the girls.

I have made the acquaintance this evening of two fine gentlemen who are traveling the same road as I, who pronounce themselves knowledgeable in the highways and byways of this region, and tomorrow we shall travel together. I took dinner with them, actually, and they proved most amiable. They are a Mr. McCoy and a Mr. Beatty. I am sure they will be pleasant and informative company as I continue on my journey.

Till we meet again in joyous congress, I am,

Your Most Obedient and etc.,

Jaimy

Once again we saddle up for another day of travel. As Katy settles in behind me, I ask, "Your uncle. On your farm. Should you not approach that very carefully? After all, it could be dangerous, and while we are well armed, well..."

"Don't worry, Jacky, I'll scout it out some, believe me."

"Maybe instead of killing him outright, maybe you could bring him up on charges? Get him sent to prison or something?"

"Ain't the way it's done out here. Ain't much law out where we're headed, and what there is of it tends to hang around the towns. 'Sides, he'd have the law on his side, him bein' a man with property and me bein' a penniless girl. Huh! Ain't no prisons, neither. If you're guilty of somethin', it's either the noose or whippin' or banishment, and that's it."

She settles into the rhythm of the ride, satisfied with her lot for now. She has fashioned a quiver out of the leftover leather and she wears it over her right shoulder so that her new arrows are right at her command should she need them. She still wears her white headband.

We stop at noon for what we think will be refreshment at a very small wayside general store, hardly more than a hovel that has a porch with some barrels on it, but we can find no one there. Mystified and somewhat disappointed, we push wearily on.

"Jim," I say. "Ride up ahead and see what awaits us."

Jim eagerly puts his heels to his horse and leaves the rest of us sluggards in the dust. I would join him, but we cannot push these two horses too hard, since they bear heavier loads than does Jim's lucky nag.

We grumble along a bit more, saddle sore and hungry, for an hour or so, when Jim comes pounding back.

"Missy! There's a big tent in the middle of a field up ahead and to the right! And there's tons of people there!"

We spur on our reluctant mounts and eventually come to the spot Jim described.

Katy takes one look and says, "Huh! Revival meetin'."

We gaze down on the spectacle. The huge tent has its front and side flaps open, the weather being mild and the crowd being big. I'm amazed to see so many people, since we have spied so few on our way here.

Inside the tent I can see a stage, and on it is a preacher shaking his fist and roaring at the congregation. I cannot make out his words, but I can surely pick up on the religious fervor with which he delivers them. So can the crowd. They sway back and forth like people in a trance, like people transported to another realm.

"He's pretty good," says Katy, plainly familiar with such revival meetings. "I ain't seen him before, but he's good. He's got 'em goin'."

"Let's rest here," I say, dismounting by throwing my leg over the horse's neck, Katy being behind me. We all slide off and go to sit in the shade of a tree to watch.

The preacher has slipped from his harangue into a hymn, and the crowd picks up on it with fervor.

Oh come, Angel Band,
Come and around me stand,
Bear me away on your Silver Wings
To my Eternal Home.

I'm surprised to hear the normally quiet Katy humming along with the tune as it goes into the next verse.

I'm going there to meet my mother,
She'll meet me on the way,
To take me up on Silver Wings,
To my Eternal Home.