We have returned to Boston. Joannie has been stuffed back into the Lawson Peabody—“Promise me I’ll go on the next cruise, Jacky!” “Yes, dear, I swear by my tattoo. Now, you be good and study hard”—and Amy Trevelyne spent last night with me in my beautiful cabin onboard the Lorelei Lee. We know I will be gone soon, as all the refitting and preparations for departure are done, and we want to spend my time remaining in port in each other’s company. Plus, she wishes to take more notes on my travels. We have risen, washed and dressed, and eaten breakfast.
As we sit sipping our tea, I look about my new cabin. It is huge compared to my tiny but cozy cabin on my little schooner Nancy B. Alsop. We sit in the warm glow of polished wood as sunlight pours through the semi-circle of windows set into the curve of the stern of the ship. Mementos and trophies from my previous voyages surround us—my Jolly Roger, with its grinning skull and crossed bones, is draped in one corner, and my guitar leans against the opposite bulkhead. The Lady Gay, my very fine fiddle, lies in her case on a shelf made just for her. In a special rack rests my sword and harness—Bardot’s sword, given to me as he lay upon his deathbed following that terrible battle. I’ve had the blade shortened to fit my size and strength, and made some alterations to the grip, as well, and named the sword Esprit. Every time I put it on, or even just glance at it, I think of my bonny light horseman, who in battle was slain, and heave a great sigh for the loss of such a good friend.
We sit at the table that runs fore-and-aft down the middle of the cabin. It is a long table that will seat eight and was designed and built by Ephraim Fyffe, newly married to my dear friend Betsey. Like all my tables, both here and on the Nancy B., there have been depressions routed out to hold my fine Delft china plates and crystal glasses in place in the event of a heavy blow. Down below, the other tables are similarly routed out, to hold securely the more common pewter plates and cups, which I think all using them will appreciate. Tucked under this fine polished table lurks a black-painted nine-pound Long Tom pointed aft and ready in a moment to be run out through its gun port to trouble any pirate or other brigand who would seek to chase us. A similar gun rests up forward, its muzzle just below the tail of the figurehead. This gun in here has been named (by Davy, of course) Kiss My Royal Ass and the one up forward has the name Stinger painted in red on its butt. I have seen a good bit of the oceangoing life and I believe in being well armed. Out on the deck are six twelve-pound cannons on each side, with cannonballs stacked neatly beside them, and a full powder magazine below. Since I will henceforth be involved in only honest commerce, I shall expect others to be honest as well, by God.
There is a light knock on the door, and Higgins says, “Excuse me, Miss, but Mr. Pickering is here. Are you decent?”
Amy folds her hands and puts them in her lap, hooding her eyes and looking down demurely. I know she will be glad to see the young lawyer, but she will not show it outwardly. If pressed on expressing her feelings for him, she will invariably say, “I am not ready for that sort of thing as yet.”
I look at her and reflect that it may be possible that her reserved way with males might be a better way than my usual manner of working the brutes—which seems to be to hop immediately into the lap of the nearest likely looking gent in a grand uniform or a fine cut of clothes and who looks like he might provide a bit of fun. She certainly has Ezra Pickering well in hand.
“As decent as I ever get, Higgins,” I call. “Send him in.”
The door opens and my very good friend, lawyer, and Clerk of the Faber Shipping Worldwide Corporation enters the cabin, wearing his habitual half smile, which widens upon seeing Miss Amy Trevelyne seated there.
“How good to see you, Ezra,” I say. “Will you take tea with us?”
“Alas, no, Miss Faber,” he says, turning to Amy. “Will you join me for a promenade about the deck, Miss Trevelyne?” he asks, bowing to her and reaching out his hand. “It is a fine day, and I believe Jacky will be wanting some privacy.”
I lift my eyebrows in question as he reaches into his vest and pulls out a letter, which he hands to me.
Reading the address on the envelope, I let out a squeal of delight as I see it is from Jaimy. Amy rises and takes Ezra’s hand, and they both go out, leaving me to tear open the letter and throw myself across my bed.
Lt. James Emerson
Onboard HMS Dolphin
Bournemouth, England
March 17,1807
Miss Jacky Faber
c/o Pickering Law Office
Union Street
Boston, Massachusetts, USA
Dearest Jacky,
I have wonderful news!
It appears that the petition for pardon on all the charges against you is virtually certain of passage. Hoorah! Only a few more signatures and formalities and the deed will be done and you will be free—free to sail back to England and to all of us here who hold you so dear.
I was delighted to hear of your purchase of the brigantine Lorelei Lee—a very colorful name, to be sure, but totally befitting your nature. How you managed to afford such a purchase, I shall not ask. That notwithstanding, I am somewhat comforted in my worry for your safety in crossing, yet again, the broad Atlantic, by the fact that you will be traversing it in a much larger, sturdier craft than the Nancy B. Still, I will continue to worry until such time as I see you again running toward me, arms upraised, illuminating some dismal dock in London with your shining presence.
Ian and Mairead McConnaughey were delighted to receive your last letter and have left for Waterford to recruit the Irish crew you requested and begin booking passengers for your venture in transatlantic passenger service. Things are hard in Ireland right now, and I am sure you will not lack for a full manifest of human cargo.
All is well at your little orphanage and your grandfather looks forward to your return to the ancestral soil.
Captain Hudson, Lieutenant Bennett, and all aboard send their regards and best wishes. Dr. Sebastian is off on a scientific voyage to the Greek Isles and reports that he regrets he will miss both the spirited company and the artistic skills of his lovely fellow naturalist.
Again, I apologize for the brevity of this letter, but, as you well know, I am a perfect scrub with a pen and there is much to do to prepare for your greatly anticipated arrival.
Till we again meet, I am
Yr Most Humble & Obedient Servant
Jaimy
I tuck the letter under my pillow, wipe the tears of joy from my eyes, and go back out on deck.
“Send for the Captain ashore,” I crow. “We leave on the morning tide!”