We are in Kingston. We had about a two-day warning and here we are. We came in with flags flying and cannons booming and everyone turned out all smart, and there was the usual parade of nobs and officials and such, and then the Governor came aboard. Us sideboys were decked out and lined up and I wore my new cap and the Captain put in an order for three more for the other boys. “Make it so, Mr. Haywood,” and the First Mate looks at me with so very little love in his heart and I look back at the man who would have had me hanged with even less, and Davy beside me risks a beating by gouging my side with his thumbnail, and then there’s more whistles and pipes and then everybody leaves. It’s easier getting ashore this time ’cause we’re right next to the dock with a gangway going down. Ten minutes later we’re off on the town.
There’s great crowds in the streets, it being market day and Carnival just like Joshua said, and Jaimy and I manage to get separated from Tink and Davy, which wasn’t too hard to do ’cause I think the two little baboons have got something nasty planned.
So Jaimy and I walk around the market and it’s all bright and colorful, even more so than Palma, with the people dressed in their holiday best. We watch a trained monkey dance to a man playing a concertina, and there are men (and women!) walking about playing guitars and singing, so I guess that’s allowed. Good to know. The dancing is wild and loud—much more spirited than us somber Brits, but I could get along. I could learn these tunes.
We look at all the stalls selling the most wonderful things like carved monkey heads and bright necklaces and bracelets and . . . there are the sandals. I try on a lot of them with the owner of the shop pointing out the virtues of each, and finally I settle on a pair. A cheap pair, but my first footwear and so therefore precious. I put them on and we move off through the fair. We’re having a grand time, but we can’t even hold hands. It ain’t that free a city.
We’re about to duck into a tavern, when I spy a stall all piled up with used clothing.
“Wait a minute, Jaimy,” I say, and I go over and rummage though the dresses and find one that looks like it would fit and the price is right. I haul out the few pennies to pay the woman and she looks at me funny and I say that it’s for my sister, and she laughs and says, “Whatever, child,” and I grab Jaimy by the arm and say, “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” asks the dear stupid boy.
“We’re going to walk for a bit, and when the town thins out I’m going to change into this dress, and for once, just once, we are going to walk out in the world as a boy and a girl.”
The town does thin out quickly after we leave the main square. The houses get farther apart and vacant lots appear, and then small fields. At last I see some bushes that will serve.
“Wait here, Jaimy, and turn around,” I say and give him a level look. “On your honor. Right here.” He waits.
I go behind the curtain of small trees and, seeing that it’s safe, pull my jumper off over my head and then unbutton the vest (ahhh . . .) and then hurry off the vest, down the pants, off the sandals, and on with the dress. The dress comes down only to my knees and my underdrawers show below the hem. My fake cod pokes out the front of the dress. Plainly, this will never do, so I shed the drawers, too. I know it’s risky, but there’s no other way. I roll up my clothes in a neat bundle and put the sandals back on and look at the dress. It’s a little shabby and worn and the colors are faded, and it’s been washed so many times it’s flimsy, but it’s wondrous soft and it’s a good fit. The neckline comes low across my chest and it’s got puffy little short sleeves. I could have done worse. A lot worse.
I fluff up my hair and run my tongue over my lips and I step out to show Jaimy.
“So, James Fletcher,” says I, and I stands there and cocks my hip. “What do you think of your saucy sailor girl now?”
He turns and looks at me. His eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. “You are so beautiful.”
I look down at the ground. I’m suddenly flustered by the warmth of his gaze. “Ah, g’wan,” I say lamely. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“No, Jacky. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen or ever will see. I know I will never be happier than I am at this moment.” He comes to me and takes my hand.
“Well. We’ll see about that, won’t we?” I say, having much more happier moments for him planned out in my head. “As for now, you may take your lady to lunch.”
I twine my arm through his and we wend our way back into the town.
We find a little café on the outskirts of the busy center and we go in and find a table in the gloom, and Jaimy pulls out my chair for me, which shows he did have some manners as a youth, and I sit down with my dress pulled up proper under me, which shows I’m learning, too, ’cause I ain’t never had a dress on before unless you count my shifts.
A large woman comes over and beams at us and asks us what we’d like to have, and Jaimy says for her to bring us some food and ale. I say that I’d rather have a little wine, thank you, and I say that ’cause I’ve noticed that the beer and ale run right through me, which makes it difficult, given my usual situation.
“The lads will never come this far out,” says I, looking about. It’s deliciously cool in here. And quiet. And dim.
Jaimy puts his hand on mine. “I don’t care if they do. I meant what I said before. About leaving the Service and getting married.”
“Jaimy, you’ve got to be sensible. They’re never going to let you just leave the ship.”
“I’ll desert.”
“No, you won’t. The Navy’s your life, as you’ve often said. You’re sure to be made midshipman soon. You don’t want to mess that up. If you deserted, you’d never step on a British ship again. I don’t think you could live with that.”
“No.” He looks at me steady. “You’re my life, now.”
Although I appreciate the thought, I see that some female charm is necessary, “Jaimy,” I breathe softly and lean over and put my arm around his waist and look real close in his eyes, “I will be ever so proud of my Mr. Midshipman James Emerson Fletcher, I will.”
Just then the woman brings us our food and drinks. “Now, now, children, plenty o’ time for that. Eat up now.” Everyone in the place seems to be grinning and winking at us.
My simpering little speech seems to have had the desired effect on Jaimy, cause he doesn’t say anything more about deserting. We turn to lunch.
I shovel in a mouthful of the food, which seems to be a spicy chicken thing with vegetables all fried and all greasy and good, and I start laughing and almost choke.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“I was just imagining,” says I, wiping off my mouth with the back of my arm, “Mother Fletcher back in London getting word that her son James had forsaken His Majesty’s Service and run off with some little trollop in Kingston, Jamaica!”
I look at him over the rim of my wineglass and giggle.
He smiles at the thought. “Perhaps you’re right,” he admits, dabbing at his mouth with the piece of cloth that was in front of him on the table. I look and there’s one in front of me, too. So that’s what it’s for, I think, all shamed. I pick mine up and dab my mouth, too, daintylike. I know he’s watching me, so I take the cloth and wipe the back of my arm, too. He laughs.
“I know I’ve got a lot to learn,” I say, “like, what is this?” I hold up the third eating thing at my place.
“It’s called a fork,” says Jaimy. “You use it to spear things and scoop things, too. Like this. Careful you don’t poke your tongue with it, now.”
I let my mind wander back to our little walk down here and how wonderful it felt to walk natural like a girl with my hips swaying a bit and not having to walk all clenched up like I do the rest of the time to look like a boy. It was grand just to walk along swinging our clasped hands between us and, just for a moment, forget about the ship and all that and think only of the moment and each other. That and stopping every few steps for a bit of a nuzzle and pet.
Jaimy asks if I want another glass of wine or anything else to eat, and I say, “No, let’s go back outside in the world, you and me under the sun,” and so we get up and pay and thank the woman for her hospitality and step back out into the bright sunlight and head back up the street.
We come to a low wall in the curve of the road, and the view of the city opens up. The streets are like steps up the hillside, and one street level is above the rooftops of the street below. We pause there and turn toward each other and come together and . . .
“Hey, jaimy!”
We both jerk our heads around, and there, three streets below, are Davy and Tink, and Davy is shouting, “It’s Jaimy, and he’s got a girl!”
I think fast.
I grab Jaimy by the shirtfront and hiss, “Do what I say. Step up on the wall. Point to them and smile real broad and pretend you’re telling me they’re your mates!”
He does it. He gets up on the wall. He gives me his hand and I get up on the wall. He points. He smiles. He mouths to me, “Those are my mates.”
I take it from there.
I turn to them and smile and wave, with my dress blowing about me in the breeze, and I call out, “Allo, freens of Jay-meee! ’E ees most wonderful boy, yes, I theenk I lof heem!”
The boys stand down there thunderstruck.
“I em mos’ sor-ree I cannot stay to meet you var-ree preety boys but I mus’ go. My papa weel keel me eef ’e see me here with Jay-meee!”
I turn to Jaimy and say, “I’m about to make you a legend, my dear.” And I take his face in my hands and kiss him long and slow up there on that little wall with my lovely, lovely dress blowing about me.
Jumping down from the wall I say, “Now, you walk down toward them and I’ll go back and change and catch up with you. All right? There’s plenty of time.”
I give him a peck on the cheek and head on up the road. I know he’s watching me, so the evil in me makes me sway my bottom a little bit more than natural as I walk along. A breeze whips up and lifts my skirt some and I feel a coolness on my backside and I put my hand behind me to smooth down my dress.
I point on down the road and say, “Down, Jay-meee.”
“You dog. You hound. You lucky bastard. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not bleedin’ fair!”
Davy is having a hard time dealing with Jaimy’s seeming success with the local women.
“Who is she, what . . .”
“She’s just a local girl, that’s all. A simple girl, really,” says Jaimy, all offhanded and cool, “but a gem in the rough, you might say.”
“But what did you . . .”
“Now, now, Davy. You know a gentleman never talks about things like that,” says Jaimy, shaking his head and looking off all dreamy.
Davy utters a long and low whimper of pure envy from deep down in his soul.
I had changed and caught up with Jaimy well before we met up with Davy and Tink. The changing went all right except that I was surprised by a donkey right in the middle of it and I near died of fright. I need a rest from fright, I’m thinkin’.
Anyway, I’m back in my sailor gear, all harnessed back in and not liking it much.
“And where was you durin’ all this?” demands Davy of me.
“I had to sit and wait in a bloody tavern while he was off wi’ the tart,” says I, looking out all angrylike from under my cap.
“And she was a real girl, too,” wails Tink, “not one you have to pay for. A real girl.”
“She is certainly real,” allows Jaimy. “Every lovely inch of her.”
Davy’s fairly squealing in frustration.
“And how did your little plan go, Davy?” I says, all snide and insinuating, to change the subject. “Are you now a man?”
“Stuff it, Jacky,” he says resentfully, and kicks the dirt beneath his feet. “They wouldn’t let us in. They said we was too young.”
“Aye, they laughed at us, they did, the sods,” says Tink mournfully.
“Anyway, all’s not lost,” says Davy, brightening. “We’ve found a place for the earrings.”