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  Curse of the Blue Tattoo

  L. A. Meyer

  * * *

  Being an Account of the

  Misadventures of Jacky Faber,

  Midshipman and Fine Lady

  * * *

  Harcourt, Inc.

  Orlando Austin New York San Diego Toronto London

  * * *

  Copyright © 2004 by L. A. Meyer

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced

  or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

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  retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work

  should be mailed to the following address: Permissions Department,

  Harcourt, Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

  www.HarcourtBooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Meyer, L. A. (Louis A.), 1942–

  Curse of the blue tattoo: being an account of the misadventures

  of Jacky Faber, midshipman and fine lady/L. A. Meyer,

  p. cm.

  Title: Curse of the blue tattoo.

  Summary: In 1803, after being exposed as a girl and forced to leave her ship,

  Jacky Faber finds herself attending school in Boston, where, instead

  of learning to be a lady, she battles her snobbish classmates,

  roams the city in search of adventure, and learns to ride a horse.

  [1. Orphans—Fiction. 2. Sex role—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction.

  4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Boston (Mass.)—History—19th century—Fiction.]

  I. Title: Curse of the blue tattoo. II. Title.

  PZ7.M57172B1 2004

  [Fic]—dc22 2003019032

  ISBN 0-15-205115-5

  Text set in Minion

  Display set in Pabst

  Designed by Cathy Riggs

  E G H F

  Printed in the United States of America

  * * *

  For Annetje, as always,

  and for Matthew and Nathaniel

  PART I

  Chapter 1

  It was a hard comin' I had of it, that's for sure.

  It was hard enough comin' up from the brig, the cell down below where they had me kept these past few weeks, squintin' into the light to see all of the dear Dolphin's sailors lined up along the spars of the great masts and in other parts of the riggin', all four hundred of 'em, bless 'em, my mates for the past year and a half, all cheerin' and hallooin' and wavin' me off.

  It was hard, too, walkin' across to the quarterdeck, where the officers were all pulled up in their fancy uniforms and where the midshipmen and side boys made two rows for me to walk between on my way off the ship, and there's Jaimy all straight and all beautiful in his new midshipman's uniform, and there's Davy and Tink and Willy, the boys of the Brotherhood to which I so lately belonged, and there's my dear sea-dad Liam lookin' as proud as any father. The Bosun's Mate puts his pipe to his lips and starts the warble to pipe me off the Dolphin, my sweet and only home, and I start down between their ranks, but I stop in front of Jaimy and I look at the Captain and I pleads with my teary eyes. The Captain smiles and nods and I fling my arms around Jaimy's neck and kiss him one last time, oh yes I do, and the men cheer all the louder for it, but it was short, oh so short, for too soon my arm is taken and I have to let go of Jaimy, but before I do I feel him press something into my hand and I look down and see that it's a letter. Then I'm led away down the gangway, but I keep my eyes on Jaimy's eyes and my hand clutched around his letter as the Professor hands me up into the carriage that's waitin' at the foot of the gangway. I keeps my eyes on Jaimy as the horses are started and we clatter away, and I rutch around in my seat and stick my head out the window to keep my blurry eyes on him but it's too far away now for me to see his eyes, just him standin' there at the rail lookin' after me, and then the coach goes around a corner and that's all. He's there, and then he's not.

  That was the hardest of all. I put my fingertips to my lips where his have just been and I wonder when they will again touch me in that place. If ever... Oh, Jaimy, I worry about you so much 'cause the war's on again with Napoleon and all it takes is one angry cannonball, and oh, God, please.

  I leave off what has up to now been fairly gentle weeping and turn to full scale, chest heavin', eyes squeezed shut, open mouth bawlin'.

  "Well," says Professor Tilden, sittin' across from me, "you certainly have made a spectacle of yourself today, I must say."

  ...don't care don't care don't care don't care...

  "You should compose yourself now, Miss. The school is not a far ride from the harbor. Here," he says, handing me a handkerchief, "dry your eyes."

  The Professor is taking me to the Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls, which is where they decided to dump me after that day on the beach when my grand Deception was blown out of the water for good and ever and I was found out to be a girl, which was against the rules. Being a girl, that is. They being the Captain and the Deacon and Tilly. I felt that I should have been allowed to go back to England with them. I wouldn'a caused no trouble—they could have kept me in the brig the whole time if they wanted. But, oh no, that would have been too easy, too reasonable for the Royal Navy. No, far better to kick me off thousands of miles and an ocean away from my intended husband, that being Midshipman James Emerson Fletcher, Jaimy for short. I take Jaimy's letter and put it in my seabag for readin' later, 'cause I know that if I read it now, I'll break down altogether and be a mess.

  I know old Tilly, who was the schoolmaster back on the Dolphin, sure liked me much better as a boy. He gets all nervous and fussy around me now, now that I've become a girl. He's right, though. Must pull yourself together now, Miss. Can't show up at the school, where they're gonna make a lady out of me, lookin' like a poor scrub what just crawled out of a Cheapside ditch, and so I takes the bit of cloth from his hand and dabs it at my eyes. I wants to blow my runnin' nose on it but don't want to mess up Tilly's handkerchief so I just snarks it all back and swallows with a big gulp. Tilly shudders and shakes his head.

  Right. I've got to put my mind on other things, like this, my first carriage ride ... imagine ... Jacky Faber, ragged Little Mary of Rooster Charlie's gang of beggars and thieves runnin' all wild through the streets of London, the same sorry little beggar here now, in her first carriage ride, her bottom sitting on a fine leather coach seat. That selfsame bottom is also sitting in its first pair of real drawers it's seen since That Dark Day when my parents and my little sister died and I was tossed out into the street to either live or die. These drawers come down to just above my knees and got flounces on 'em, three on each leg. The dressmaker said that the ruffles were there to keep the dress from clinging too close to the legs. Can't have dresses clinging too close to the legs in oh-so-proper Boston, now, can we?

  My dress, now, is surely a fine thing—all black as midnight and waisted high up under my chest and falling in pleats down to the tops of my feet. The bodice comes down low—much lower than I would have thought for Boston, but I've given up trying to figure out that kind of thing as there never seems no sense to it—I mean, we got drawers with ruffles to keep the legs from being too noticeable down below, yet we have the chest in danger of spilling out up top. Don't ask me to explain, 'cause I can't. Anyway, the sleeves are long and end in a bunch of black lace at the wrists. It is the school uniform and it's the finest thing I've ever had on me and I got to say I'm proud to be in it, and I know Jaimy was proud to see me decked out this way on the quarterdeck today. I could see it in his eyes when he looked in min
e and the way his chest puffed up under his tight black broadcloth jacket with all the bright gold buttons gleamin' on it.

  Deacon Dunne took me out the first day we were docked in Boston, to get me fitted out, as Tilly warn't up to the challenge of being alone with the female me in a female dressmaker's shop. The seamstress there was amazing fast, with her tape whipping all around me up and down and all around. Pins put here and there and chalk marks, too. She got all of my stuff to the ship today—two pairs of drawers, two pairs of black stockings, one dress, one nightshirt with nightcap, one black wool sweater, one chemise, and one black cloak with bonnet—and two hours after it arrived, I was off the ship. They couldn't get rid of me fast enough, the sods.

  Everything that I ain't got on is packed away in my seabag with my other stuff that I've picked up along the way—needles, threads, awls, fishing lures, my concertina, my blue dress that I made myself and my Kingston dress, my pennywhistle, and, yes, me shiv, too, 'cause I can't figure out how to keep it in its old place next to my ribs in this dress. Not yet, anyway. And my sailor togs are in there, too—my white dress uniform that I made for myself and the boys and my drawers with the fake cod and my blue sailor cap with HMS DOLPHIN that I'd stitched on the band. And Rooster Charlie's shirt and pants and vest that delivered me from the slums of London and my midshipman's neckerchief and even a midshipman's coat and shirt and britches and cap that I'd got off Midshipman Elliot, who'd outgrown them. I think about that middies uniform and how everyone on board thought it was such a great joke that I was made a midshipman before they discovered I was a girl. Everyone but me. I earned my commission, I did, and I didn't think it was a joke. Still don't.

  Ain't no money in my seabag, though. After paying for my clothes, they gave the rest of my share of the money from the pirate gold to the school to pay for my education in ladyhood. Wisht they had just given me the money and let me make my own way in the world like I always done, but, no—I'm a girl and too stupid to take care of money. That's a man's job, they say. Like I'd be gulled out of my money, me what's as practical and careful with a penny as any miser? Not bloody likely.

  Oh, look. There's a row of taverns at the end of that pier. They look like places where I might be able to play my penny-whistle and concertina and maybe make some money after I get settled and know the lay of the land ... and look there—there's one called The Pig and Whistle and it's kind of seedy lookin' but it's got a sign with a fat jolly pig playing a whistle just like mine and he's dancin' about and he looks right cheerful.

  Ah. There's a bookseller's. And a printer's next to it. Maybe I could pick up some work there, if I have any time off from the school. I wonder how confined I'm going to be. The school couldn't be as tight with its students as the Navy is with its sailors, though, could it? Wonder if the school has lots of books. Coo, wouldn't that be something—all you ever wanted to read right at your fingertips? It's a school. It's got to have a lot of books.

  Now we've turned right and a big brick church is out my window to the right and a big graveyard, too, and to the left is a large open field with horses and sheep wanderin' about in the grass. Cows, too. Pray for me, cows, as I'm feelin in need of it and you look right sympathetic with your big brown eyes.

  "It's like havin' the country right in the middle of the city. London for sure didn't have nothin' like that," I says.

  "It's called the Common," says Tilly, when he sees my interest. I think he's glad that I've stopped crying, and he goes on in his teaching voice. "It was set aside by the forefathers because Boston is essentially an island and it would be hard to get the animals off and on for purposes of grazing. I think it's wondrous restful to the eyes after the hubbub of the town. Do you not find it so?"

  I nod. I know he's talkin' just to keep my spirits up, and I appreciates it. But don't worry, Tilly, there'll be no more cryin'.

  We're climbing quite high on a hill now—"Beacon Hill," says Tilly—and the horses are slowing down under the strain of it.

  I look down at my feet and wiggle my toes inside my shiny new shoes. These are the fancy kind with hooks and eyes and laces that run up the ankle. I also got a pair of black pumps what slip on and off and what I think I'll like better cause my feet are used to being bare and my toes ain't accustomed to being all crammed together like this.

  The coach lurches around to the left and..."Good Lord! What's that?" I say, my eyes wide as any country rube's. A huge stone building with white columns and grand entrances and a solid gold dome has come into view on my right.

  Tilly peers out the window. "Oh. That is the Massachusetts State House. They hadn't finished the dome when last I was here. It is magnificent, is it not?"

  It is indeed. I'm going to be going to school next to a bleedin' palace. If the gang could see me now.

  We leave the State House behind us and continue along the edge of this Common for a while. The whole city is spread out below me—the buildings, the wharves and piers. It is for certain a seafarin' town. There must be at least fifty wharves stickin' out into the harbor and a hundred ships moored at them. Can't see the Dolphin, though, she being tucked up close to the land and hidden by the buildings. Prolly best I can't see her as it would just get the tears goin' again.

  "This is Beacon Street," says Tilly. "And here is your new home."

  My belly gives a queasy lurch. Steady down now. Steady. You've been through a lot worse than this.

  We've pulled up in front of a large building. It is three stories high and has a large entrance with a lot of stone steps and two heavy wood doors dark with old varnish so that they look like they've been there forever and have closed behind many a poor, scared girl. There's a road off Beacon Street to the right of the school and there's a church there that's built in the same style as the school—stone foundation below, white wood running sideways above. There's this big tree between the church and the school, so big its lower branches touch the roofs of both, and on the roof of the church is a sharp steeple with a bell hanging in it, and on the roof of the school is a porchlike thing with a railing around it that's painted white, too.

  The coachman goes over to the rack on the back of the carriage and gets my seabag and chest and brings them to the entrance and then goes back to his seat to wait for Tilly to get free of me.

  Tilly lifts the knocker on the door. It is opened by a young girl in service gear—black skirt and black lace-up weskit, white blouse, white apron and cap.

  "Yes, Sir?" she says, all big eyed and meek lookin'. "May I help you?"

  "Yes. Harrumph," says Tilly, "I am Professor Phineas Tilden and I bring Mistress Pimm her new student." The girl gives me a quick up-and-down with her eyes, then slips out of the room through a door at the far end to fetch this Mistress Pimm. I look around, jumpy as a cat.

  You calm down now, you. Right now.

  The room is empty of furniture and rugs—prolly 'cause this is where people track in snow and mud in the winter. But there are things on the walls. Wondrous things. Flowers and leaves all twisted around each other—words, alphabets, apples, oranges, urns, and weeping willow trees—all made out of thread on white cloth and framed with fine wood and...

  "Yes. Mistress Pimm's girls are noted for their embroidery," says Tilly, when he notices me lookin'.

  Embroidery! I don't know nothing 'bout no 'broidery, Tilly, you should've told me about this. I don't know how to do this stuff. I can sew a straight line, yes, but this I can't...

  The serving girl opens the door and stands aside to let Mistress Pimm stride in. The schoolmistress advances to the center of the room and brings her gaze to rest on the Professor. She is as tall as he and as thin as he is stout. Her hair is the gray of a brushed iron cannon and is pulled back hard and gathered in a bun at the back of her head, which makes her sharp features look as if chiseled from stone. She, too, is dressed in black, but her dress goes all the way from ankle to throat where it is tightly fastened by a shiny black brooch. Her sleeves end in black lace above her white hands.

&
nbsp; "Dear Cousin Phineas," she says. She does not look at me. She does not smile at either of us. "How good to see you again." She extends her hand and touches the outstretched hand of the Professor for the briefest of moments.

  "Yes. Harrumph," says the Professor, reddening. "Good to see you, too, Miranda. May I present Miss Jacky Faber, the girl you have so graciously taken on as a new student? Jacky, this is Mistress Pimm."

  She slowly turns her head and brings her gaze to bear upon me cowering down below.

  What am I 'posed to do? Oh Lord, Tilly, you should've thought to teach me what to do in things like this. I don't know, should I hit a brace and snap off a salute and case my eyes or should I knuckle my brow and look down all humble or should I...

  The serving girl standing behind Mistress Pimm sees me in all my confusion and she takes a bit of her skirt in each hand and moves one foot behind the other and dips down, spreading out her skirt with her hands as she looks down at the floor and then rises back up and brings her eyes back to mine and nods at me and silently mouths, Do it.

  I do it, or at least I tries, and I almost falls over sideways when I squats down but I don't, and I comes back up and puts my eyes on her brooch 'cause I don't want to meet her steely eyes and I says, "Pleased to meetcha, Mum."

  Tilly sighs and says, "She's going to take a bit of work, I'm afraid. But she is a good boy ... ah ... girl, that is, and she is a willing worker and a quick study and she..."

  Mistress looks me over. "I am sure she will prosper here," she says, finally, but she is not smiling and she don't sound like she believes it. I don't believe it, neither, not right now I don't.

  She looks back at Tilly. "I believe our business is concluded, then. I bid you good day, Cousin Phineas." The serving girl goes to open the door for him.

  "Right. Well, then," says Tilly to me, "you be a good girl, now."

  "I will be, Sir, and I thank you for your kindness to me and the other boys. You were just the best teacher."