The Mark of the Golden Dragon Read online

  "Yes, but I am more settled now, Liam, and I resolve to be good."

  He looks up at my bald pate, which is surely glistening in the morning light, and snorts. "Right..."

  "Ah," I say. "I hear the others arriving. Let us turn to dinner."

  In troops Davy Jones, John Tinker, now Second and Third Mates of the Nancy B. I had been told that Jim Tanner, my usual helmsman and First Mate when I was on the little Gloucester schooner, had to remain in Boston, his wife, Clementine, being great with child and ready to give birth. "It killed him not to come, Jacky," Tink said. "But Annie and Betsey and the rest of us made him see the wisdom of it. He needs to be by his wife's side when she delivers him of a daughter or son."

  John Higgins follows them into my cabin, trailed by Joannie Nichols in serving gear.

  Higgins directs, and Joannie serves and does a good job of it, knowing full well that I'm watching her closely and standing ready to pounce upon any mistake. She knows how fast one can fall from being Lady-in-Training at the Lawson Peabody to lowly Cabin Girl on a small schooner—especially if she foolishly stows away on said little barky.

  That was last night and now it is morning. I awaken and kick Joannie out of my bed, telling her to attend to her chores, which she does without too much complaint.

  As I wash up and slip into my simple sailor's gear, I reflect on last night's dinner...

  ***

  After we were done with the dinner and well in to the Madeira, I recounted the horror of the earthquake and the tsunami that followed it, and Sidrah's courage and concern for the poor villagers. Then I told about the crimes committed in the aftermath of that disaster by the scurvy crew of the pirate ship that we are now pursuing. Yes, Liam ... Higgins ... back in the Caribbean we did plunder a few Spanish towns in company with Flaco Jimenez, but we were not nearly as vicious as these curs.

  All agreed that these pirates deserve punishment and are firmly resolved to see the job done ... no quarter asked, nor given ... no mercy, if it comes to it.

  Grim thoughts of vengeance were put aside and we turned to song and dance, very, very happy with our lot. Me, for damn sure, considering my recent trials.

  Presently Higgins comes in bearing a breakfast tray and places it on my table.

  I avidly dig in.

  "Oh, Higgins, you cannot know just how good this is!" I exclaim, my mouth full of eggs and bacon and biscuit.

  "I am glad you enjoy it, Miss," says he. "I trust you slept well?"

  "Like a baby, Higgins, like a baby in her mother's arms."

  "Miss!" comes the call from above. "We have him in sight! Black flag, two crossed swords with a star above!"

  I leap to my feet.

  "Let's go! Hold course! Battle stations!"

  "What shall you wear, Miss?"

  "I think I'll go with my Chinese gear, Higgins, if you would."

  Although Higgins had brought my seabag from the Lorelei Lee to the Nancy B. in the faint hope of finding me alive—and I bless him for it—I feel it best to go Oriental in this action.

  My simple morning outfit is quickly stripped and replaced with the green silk trousers and tunic given to me by Cheng Shih, the back of which bears the sign of the Golden Dragon. Also on my back is strapped my two-handed Chinese sword in its sheath.

  Thus armed, I run barefoot to the door and call out, "Execute Plan A!"

  "Someday I'm going to get you for this, Jacky, mark me on that," growls Davy, as he pretends to swab the deck. The lad is clad in one of my bonnets, with gingham dress below.

  "I think you are quite becoming, Davida, dear." I giggle. "Wait'll I tell all the folks down at the Pig and Whistle."

  "Grrrrrr..."

  "What, Davy? Are you saying it is all right for me to parade around dressed up as a boy, but not for you to don girl's clothing? I should think turnabout is fair play."

  "It's different," snarls Davy. "It goes against my nature ... and the nature of any man."

  I, too, have a bonnet on, as does Tink, who wears one of my wigs, as well. He is red in the face but does not complain so much.

  So, to any onlooker's eye, we appear to be a badly sailed, poorly rigged schooner, with an assortment of helpless females aboard. This old trick had been tried on us by the Brothers Lafitte last year off Charleston, back in the States. Didn't work for them, but it just might work for us.

  The pirate craft lies off to our portside and it quickly becomes plain that he is interested ... very interested. He has slowly decreased his speed and has altered course to close the distance between us. I have had our American colors hauled down, leaving only our little Faber Shipping blue anchor flag fluttering above. Our guns are loaded with grapeshot and covered. Liam is at the wheel, while John Thomas and Smasher McGee crouch hidden behind the rail, cutlasses drawn, many loaded pistols in their belts. The pirates are now about two hundred yards off...

  Steady, boys, steady ... Get close to your gun...

  We can see them there, most on deck, some in the rigging, grinning down on us and thinking us easy prey.

  ...now about one hundred ... now fifty ... now twenty-five ... now, scum, we shall see...

  "Fire!" I shout. "Rake their decks!"

  The canvas covers are ripped off the guns and the lanyards are pulled and...

  Crrraaak!

  All four cannons spit forth their deadly charges, raking the deck of the pirate. There are screams of pain from the enemy, and shouts of pure fury from my men.

  "Reload with ball," I cry. "Fire when ready! Crush them!"

  John Thomas gets his loaded first and...

  Crash!

  His shot is true, and a nine-pound ball of iron slams into the pirate's side, right at the waterline, and the sea begins to pour in.

  Crash!

  That is Finn McGee's gun, doing even more damage.

  "That's enough!" I shout. "Cease fire!"

  I can see still forms lying about the deck of the other ship.

  "Bring us next to him, Liam! Pepper them, boys! Prepare to board!"

  Davy and Tink lift their very accurate Kentucky squirrel rifles and drop two of the pirates from the rigging. The two ships come together and I leap over the rail, followed by my bully boys.

  Thomas and McGee use their pistols to knock down several more pirates, then whip out their cutlasses and set about their grim, bloody work.

  I go for the Captain, who stands at his wheel, shocked at seeing my return and at the turn of events. He looks up at my masthead, where I had directed Joannie, at the first sound of conflict, to raise the Golden Dragon pennant, such that the dogs would know their doom and just who was dealing it to them and strike mortal fear into the hearts of any who remain alive.

  The flag twists and turns in the wind over our heads.

  "So, piece of filth, you would scorn the Mark of the Dragon, eh?"

  He lets go of his helm and, in desperation, pulls out his sword and raises it overhead, to bring it down upon me.

  He does not get the chance. I reach back with both hands and whip out my own, and with one fluid motion, I swing it around and slash him across the belly. I have my sword back in my scabbard before he can survey the damage.

  He looks down in wonder at his middle. The tip of my sword had cut the waistcord of his pants, causing them to fall to his ankles. He is aghast. Not only is his male pride wounded, as he stands there exposed to the laughter of my crew, but he's so amazed at my skill that he drops his own sword and cries out, "Rehem!"

  I expect that means "Mercy!" but I shall give him very little.

  I again whip out my sword and this time lay the razor-sharp blade right against his neck. His eyes widen and he mews and makes begging sounds.

  No, I do not take his head, nor cut his throat, though I am sorely tempted. Actually, he was mistaken in his assessment of my skill with the sword, for I really was trying to disembowel him on my first swing. I just miscalculated, is all. Oh, well, all to the good, I figure, as I really don't like killing people, even curs li
ke the one who cowers before me.

  I cut my eyes to the side and see that the rest of the pirates—those who are still alive, anyway—are being herded on the fantail and stripped of their weapons.

  Then I turn back to the former leader of this pirate gang and say, "So, Captain ... Try to drown Jacky Faber, will you?"

  He stares at me, uncomprehending, as I take my sword from his neck and put the point of it on his fat hairy belly and give him a poke, such that he falls back, stepping away from his fallen trousers.

  "Get with the others, you scurvy dog. Now!" I shout, jerking my head in the direction of his former crewmates huddling on the stern of the sinking ship. He does not understand my words, but he surely takes my meaning as he scurries off, sans culottes, as it were, his flaccid buttocks jiggling in a most unmanly way.

  "John Thomas!" I cry, pointing to the hatchway. "Break that lock and let's get the captives out! This thing is sinking fast!"

  He lunges forward and slams the hilt of his heavy cutlass down on the lock and it gives way. He pulls open the door and I scream down into the darkness, "Sidrah! It's me! Bring up the people! Tell them the ship is sinking and we're going to take them back to their village! Quickly, now!"

  Sidrah, her dark eyes blinking, comes up into the light.

  "Jah-kee? Thank God!"

  "My sentiments exactly, Sister. Now get these people onto my ship! The deck's almost awash!"

  She shouts down into the hold and the people pour out, some of them already very wet. Davy and Tink guide them over the rail and onto the Nancy B.

  "Liam!" I call through all the confusion. I see that the pirate ship carries a small boat—probably the same one that carried Sidrah and me to this awful ship. "Get the pirates into that boat and cast them off. Hurry!"

  He looks dubious, but he does it. The boat is lowered and the pirates prodded into it and then shoved off. Amazed at their luck in not being immediately killed in horrible fashion, which is exactly what they would have done if the situation were reversed, they quickly ship oars and pull for the shore.

  As they pull away, some of them, now secure in the knowledge that they will live through this day, make rude gestures and shout threats back at us. I just smile at that, for I think I remember that very shore on which they will land. I believe it is the one that Ravi and I landed on after the great storm. Yes, I believe it is. Somehow the hungry alligators of Key West come to mind. Hmmm...

  When all is accomplished, Liam comes up next to me and says, "Do you think that was wise, Jacky, to let such as them live so that they might again do evil in this world?"

  Sidrah, having seen the other captives taken below and settled, appears on deck to stand by my side, her face glowing in her newly regained freedom. Oh, Sister, it is so good to see you again!

  "Liam," I say, my arm about Sidrah as we look toward the retreating boat and the rather forbidding shore beyond. "I know you have seen many old sea charts showing lands and seas through which modern sailors have not yet traveled...?"

  "Aye," he says, rather mystified. "I have. They are old, but we still must use them if we are in uncharted waters. What are you getting at, dear?"

  "Well, then you will remember, Father, that on those charts were fanciful drawings of sea serpents and such, with 'Here There Monsters Be' penned under them?"

  Liam chuckles. "Aye. I have seen those maps. At the university, last year. In Dublin. Warnings about 'falling off the edge of the world' and all that."

  "Well, Captain Liam Delaney," I say, pointing with my finger to the dark, tree-lined shore. "Here there real monsters be—striped monsters with big yellow fangs and great appetites. Believe me, I know, firsthand. I do not think our brigands will do any more damage in this world—except maybe to upset the digestion of several honest and well-meaning tigers."

  Is that deep hungry growling from the jungle? No, prolly not—we're too far out to hear that, but still...

  Liam laughs, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. "Well, serves the buggers right, then."

  "You are right, Liam," I say. "And as for right and wrong, who is good and who is bad, I say, 'Let God sort 'em out!'"

  We bring the Nancy B. about and set her on her new course. I stand on my quarterdeck with Higgins beside me, and we watch the pirate ship slip out of sight beneath the waves, leaving only a greasy slick to mark its grave.

  "Too bad," says Higgins, watching the final bubbles come up from the murky depths. "We might have sold that ship. I was going to inform you a bit later, but we are very nearly out of money and supplies."

  "It was a spongy, worthless tub, weak in all its knees, else it would have not sunk so quickly," I say. "But, don't worry, John. I know where to get some money. Tell Liam to set course north ... for Rangoon."

  Chapter 19

  I'm walking slowly down that same street where Ravi and I were first nabbed by that thug Ganju Thapa. My long cloak is pulled up to my neck, but my head is uncovered. I look furtively about, as if I fear capture, when actually, I am inviting it. I, of course, know how to get back to Chopstick Charlie's stronghold through these rabbit-warren streets, having been out and about with Sidrah many times. But finding our way there and getting into his stronghold are two different things—and I want to get in on my own terms, as well. We will need entry past that big, iron-bound door, and it is to be hoped that Ganju Thapa will provide it. Although Charlie is a genial sort, I know that both he and his household are very well guarded.

  And I do love a dramatic entrance, as it suits my nature.

  Ha! There he is...

  He slips out of the shadows of an alley and lopes toward me. I pretend to not see him and give out with a yelp of distress when I feel his big hand clamp on my neck.

  He utters a string of guttural words, which I take to mean "Got you again, you miserable little infidel bint," or such to that effect. I struggle and wail, but it avails me not, and soon we stand in front of Charlie's big door.

  Ganju Thapa knocks on it three times ... pause ... then three more ... then two ... and the door swings open to reveal yet another armed thug standing there. My escort spits out what sounds like orders to the man, but then that is the last thing Ganju Thapa says for a while as John Thomas comes up behind him and brings his belaying pin down on the back of his heathen head. As he sprawls face-first on the tiles, Smasher McGee rushes in and makes short work of the other man.

  Good. They were not able to spread the alarm...

  Davy and Tink, pistols drawn, slip into the hallway and I hold my finger to my lips. They nod, and I advance to the door that I know is the entrance to Charlie's inner sanctum. Then I put my hand to the tie of my cloak and let it fall to the floor, revealing me in my full navy rig—navy blue jacket trimmed in gold braid, creamy white lace at my throat and wrists, tight white trousers tucked into shiny black boots. At my neck dangles the Trafalgar medal, and on my left breast sits Napoleon's Legion of Honor. On my face I wear the full Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls Look.

  Dress to impress, I always say.

  Looking back at my crew to see that all is in readiness, and satisfied as to that, I lift my right foot and kick open the door to Charlie's lair.

  There he sits, in all his corpulent grandeur, his small mouth open wide in complete surprise.

  I stride down the red rug and stop in front of him, give a slight bow, straighten, and with my left hand on the hilt of my sword that hangs by my side, I say, "Greetings, Honored Chen."

  He gapes, and says nothing for a while ... Then he utters one word.

  "Sidrah."

  Not a question. Not a plea. Just the name.

  I turn and gesture to Tink, who goes out into the hall and returns with Sidrah on the arm of John Higgins.

  Charlie's face undergoes a transformation. He smiles and holds out his hand to his lost daughter. She leaves Higgins's side and goes to her father and kneels before him.

  "Father," she says to him.

  "Beloved daughter," he answers and puts his hand on her
bowed head.

  "What do you want?" he asks me, his eyes glistening.

  "Well, first a bit of a bite for me and my bully boys, Chops, and then we'll discuss that," I say with a wide grin.

  "What's for dinner?"

  Chapter 20

  "Two thousand pounds sterling. Oh! Oh!" Charlie gasps for breath and clutches his chest.

  "Come on, Charlie." I laugh, pointing a pheasant wishbone at him. "You know that it would have cost you twice that to get Sidrah back from those pirates, and I brought her back for nothing except for love for her and respect for the House of Chen."

  We are all seated on low cushions around the table, upon which has been laid the finest of food from the East. There are goblets of fine plum wine and saki at each place and the party is warming up. Davy sits to my left and I have delighted in teasing him with the exotic nature of the dishes. Here, Seaman Jones, try this, I say, putting a piece of smoked peacock breast to his lips. It is pickled monkey testicle. It is quite good...

  Chopstick Charlie recovers enough from his heart palpitations to inquire...

  "And those who took my daughter?"

  Sidrah sits by his side, happily chatting away with Higgins, who is not at all dismayed by the nature of the food. I assure the rather pale Davy that what he is eating is merely a kind of chicken and then reply.

  "I wish I could have brought them back to suffer your gentle chastisements, Gracious Host, but, alas, I fear they sleep with the tigers ... or rather, in the tigers."

  "Good," he says, a slight smile lifting the ends of his mustache, seemingly quite satisfied with that. "You speak with well-oiled tongue, Honored Guest. It would seem as if you learned the art of extortion at my very knee."

  "I am sure you would have been an excellent teacher, Rotund One, but the streets of London sufficed in that capacity."

  Charlie takes all the banter in good stride, as well he should. He has been introduced to my crew and all is very civil, but Davy and Tink still wear their pistols in their belts and John Thomas and Finn McGee are still very large and muscular.