"Aye. I will spread that word amongst the crew when I am put down in the hatch with the rest of them, which is sure to be soon, and I'll let them know that I will kill any of them who would give you up. And that goes for the officers, too, when they recover," he said, turning to me with the old cocky grin back in place. "And I would take a kiss right now for my troubles, were it not for the fact that we are sure to be watched by that Frenchy standing right there, and it wouldn't look good for me to be bending a midshipman over and..."
"No, it would not, Joseph."
"A pity, Puss, for it will surely be the last kiss I'll ever receive from anybody for a good long while." I know the truth of this, for while captains and senior lieutenants are routinely freed in prisoner exchanges, mere warrant officers almost never are. Jared is looking at confinement till the end of the war, and that does not seem to be coming soon.
At last the French Squadron Commander bounded aboard, a short, pudgy little man who could scarcely conceal his delight.
A prize!
I knew he was thinking,
A British warship! How this shall benefit both my pocketbook and my reputation! I shall surely be made Admiral!
As I advanced to meet him, I bowed and said, "Midshipman Jack Kemp,
à votre service, Capitaine.
"
He looked at me in wonder and said, "What is this? A mere boy?"
I swept my hand toward our recumbent Captain and continued, "
Permettez-moi à vous présenter, Capitaine Hannibal Hudson, le Commandant du HMS
Dauntless."
"
Le pauvre homme!
" said the Frenchy, seemingly concerned with our Captain's well-being. That's how it goes with these things—you try your best to murder each other when the action is ongoing, and then, when it's over, it's back to good manners again. "
J'espère que...
"
"Your hope that the expert gunnery of your ships did not bring our Captain low," I replied in French, "that is most gracious and kind.
Mais, non,
you may set your mind at ease—it was a fish."
"
Du poisson?
"
"
Oui, Monsieur, du mauvais poisson,
" said I. "The ship's officers were overcome with a sickness after having partaken of a fish that had turned against us. HMS
Dauntless,
distinguished in many a heroic battle, was brought down by a fish. Had the officers been at their best, you would have had a much harder time taking us. As you say, I am but a boy, and I did what I could, but..."
He looked me over. "You did well, young man. You have nothing to be ashamed of," he said, giving me a curt bow. "I am Captain Jules Renaud, at your service."
I returned the bow and went over to Captain Hudson to pick up his sword to present it to Captain Renaud. He took it but shook his head and laid it back down on the Captain's chest.
"No, let the poor man keep his sword. It may give him some comfort when he awakens to find his ship and his command gone," said this Captain Renaud, who did not seem to be a bad sort. "Ha! So, a fine kettle of fish it was, as you English say. You should have carried a French cook, my lad." He laughed, shaking a pudgy finger in my face. "He would have known how to tell a good fish from a bad one!"
After the pleasantries were over, I, too, was put down into the hold.
Both the Doctor and I were by the Captain's side when he woke up deep in the darkness of his own hold. He took the bitter news a lot better than I would have, had I been in his place. He recovered quickly from his sickness, as did the other officers over the next few days.
All of us had been crammed into the hold, officers and men alike, but, as always, accommodations are made, and territories are mapped out—the Captain and the senior lieutenants aft, and the men spread out forward. I sought out Davy and found him to be safe, thank God, and rejoiced in his company during the day, but I spent the nights curled up next to Joseph Jared, his arm about my shoulders and my face upon his chest, giving me great comfort in my distress. I was
so
close to gaining my freedom, and going back to my life, and now this.
The fortunes of war
is how the Captain put it in his philosophical way, and I am forced to agree, but I have a lot more to lose than any of the rest of them if I am found out.
I woke up each morning of our journey, from seaborne captivity to a land prison, with my face buried in the nape of Joseph Jared's neck, a fact not missed by a certain member of the Intelligence Service. Bliffil was never far away, he who had hidden during the battle and had emerged only after it was over, wearing a lieutenant's jacket and hat to keep from being branded a spy. He considers me a prize, I realize, as he sits propped up against the hull of the ship, always, always watching as if he owned me. And, as it turns out later, he does.
Captain Renaud invited Captain Hudson up for dinner each night after he had recovered from his case of
mauvais poisson,
and I went with him, but not as a guest, for I am a mere midshipman—no, it was as translator, for Captain Hudson's French is not good. So, instead of sitting at the table and partaking of the wonderful spread of food out there in front of me, I stood at Attention behind my Captain's chair, and spoke only when necessary. It was exquisite torture, given my appetite, but I managed to endure.
When we reached France, however, all the pleasantries were over and we were taken, Captain, officers, and men, and stuffed down into a foul prison.
Chapter 11
The prison at Cherbourg is built in the shape of a U, with the men being put in one wing of the jail, and the officers in another. We are, of course, not the only ones here. There are some who have been in this prison for months, even years, poor buggers.
There is a courtyard within the U, with a whipping post in the center of it. We have already been treated to the sight of prisoners being tied to the post and lashed for minor infractions of the rules. To close the top of the U, there is a great iron gate, with sharp spikes on the top, to make anyone considering escaping that way think twice.
All of us are equals now, in our confinement—the Captain, Dr. Sebastian, Mr. Bennett, and the other officers choose their sleeping spots, but one is much like any other. In our section, there are single bunks built into the stone walls, shelves like. We are given blankets and straw mattresses, and I figure it best that I sleep alone, so as not to cause discord among the officers and all. I mean, I know I ain't much, but I am a girl, and after a while here, some men's thoughts may turn to ... well, you know. I make up my bunk right below Joseph Jared, and that first night I curl up in my customary ball, drawing my knees to my chin, say my usual prayers for Jaimy and the rest, so I figure I will get through the night all right.
But it doesn't work out that way at all.
That first night in prison, after sleep comes upon me,
they
come for me in my dream—the Newgate Hangman, the Pirate LeFievre, Captain Scroggs, Pap Beam, and all the rest, each of them hollow eyed and ghastly, like skulls, wavin' nooses at me, and then Sammy Nettles comes and gets a rope around me neck and giggles,
Now, Smart-mouth, now yer gonna get it, and get it good...
and I start thrashin' about and pleadin',
No, no, please, I'm just a poor girl what's always tried to be good and oh, God! I beg of you...
I feel a hand across my mouth, I open my eyes and look into those of Joseph Jared whose hand it is that stifles my nightmare cries.
"You're goin' to give yourself away, Puss," he whispers in my ear. "Some of them Frenchies out there might understand a bit of English. We've got to fix this, Jacky. How are we gonna do it?"
I know right well how to fix it. To hell with discord and propriety.
"Get back in your bunk, Joseph," I breathe, my breast heaving and my breath still ragged from the horror of my dream, "and I will join you there. That will stop the nightmares. It always has."
He, clad in his drawers and scant else, it being a warm night, climbs back up into his bed, and, in a moment, I climb up, too. I get between him and the wall and he puts his arm around me and I put my head on his bare chest, take a long, slow breath, let it out, and fall into a deep, deep sleep.
I do
not
like sleeping alone.
I, of course, did sleep more soundly each night after that, and I contrived to be the first one up in the morning to conceal the fact that I had just crawled out of Joseph Jared's bed, but, really, I think I fooled no one. Still, the other officers let it go and pretended not to notice, preferring peace over discord, and I was able to sleep without waking everyone with my screams.
One night, however, I was roused by some small sound so I lifted my head to peer out over Joseph's sleeping form and thought I could make out Bliffil standing at the cage door and whispering to the guard outside. Since I was halfway between sleep and wakefulness, I could not be sure of what went on, but I thought I saw Bliffil pass something to the guard.... A message? Money? I don't know ... I put my head back down on Joseph's shoulder, sighed, and went back to sleep.
Other than that puzzling exchange, if, indeed, that was what I saw, things are worked out. Captain Hudson is given the possibility of parole, but he refuses, preferring to stay with his officers and men to share in their suffering. I am not sure, but I have the feeling that he also stays to protect me from Bliffil.
I have always had such good friends.
There is an open privy in the room, and when it is my turn to use it, the others turn away and belt out "Rule Britannia" at the top of their lungs.
Rule, Britannia,
Britannia rule the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves!
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Captain Hudson lustily leads the chorus again after that fourth verse, and it gives great amusement to our guards while nicely covering up my doings.
Rule, Britannia,
Britannia rule the waves!
Britons never, never, NEVER!...shall be slaves!
We are there for about a week when a guard comes to the door with a French officer and he says, "Capitaine Hudson, you are being exchanged. Monsieur Bennett, also. Come with us please."
I translate and the Captain stands up to address his officers, all of whom get to their feet. "I must go, gentlemen, but rest assured I shall be tireless in attempting to secure your release."
All express their joy at the Captain's release, but he waves them off and goes up and stands before Bliffil. "Mr. Bliffil. I will be keeping an eye on what happens to our Midshipman Kemp, here. Count on that, and
know
that I
will
hold you accountable if anything untoward occurs. Do you understand me, Sir?"
Bliffil, his face dark and his lips pinched in anger, nods.
"Good," says Captain Hannibal Hudson. "Good luck to you all. God save the King. God save the Service." He shakes hands with each of his officers, including me, and embraces his friend the Doctor, saying, "We shall meet again soon, brother."
And with that, he and Mr. Bennett are gone.
Soon after the senior officers have left, Bliffil starts in with his insinuations.
"When Warrant Officer Jared there decides to finally mount her," he sneers, "will we stand back and sing 'God Save the King' to cover the sounds of their coupling?"
"You will leave off on that kind of talk, Mr. Bliffil!" warns Mr. Curtis, now the ranking officer, but Joseph Jared says much more.
He leaps forward and grabs Bliffil by the throat and slams him up against the stone wall of the prison. He thrusts his face within an inch of Bliffil's and snarls, "One more word and I'll snap your neck, you miserable piece of dung!"
"I will see you court-martialed for laying your hands upon me!" snarls Bliffil, furious.
"I don't give a good goddamn what you will do. All I know is one more word against her, and I will kill you, right here, right now," says Jared, evenly, and he begins to twist Bliffil's collar in his fist, slowly tightening it. Bliffil's face turns white, then red, then a most alarming shade of purple. He gasps for breath, but that breath does not come till Jared suddenly releases him and he falls to the floor, gasping, his hands to his throat.
After that, we resume the normal routine, one that is sure to be ours for weeks and weeks, months and months, and maybe even for years and years.
However, several days later, that routine is disrupted, especially for me.
There is a commotion at the door to our cage and another group of naval officers is thrown in. Their leader is with them, a Captain Blackstone of HMS
Mercury.
I'm wondering why he seems oddly familiar, when a litter is brought in, bearing a badly wounded young man. The stretcher bearers rudely dump him on one of the bunks and leave.
Dr. Sebastian looks at him and shouts after the departing guards, "This man needs to be in hospital!" But the guards say nothing.
I, too, can say nothing, for I am stunned beyond speech.
The wounded and unconscious young man is Jaimy Fletcher.
Chapter 12
I fall to my knees next to Jaimy's bunk and lay my hand on his forehead and find it hot and damp.
Oh, Jaimy, what has happened to you?
There is an angry red groove that slashes through his dark hair on the right side of his head. Crude stitches have closed the cut, but not very well, even I can tell that. The wound still seeps and his face is covered in crusted blood. I must ... I must...
"
Mr.
Kemp," says Dr. Sebastian, with a warning glance at the ever watchful guards, "you will remember your place. You must stand aside, please. I know that you feel for your friend here who is, indeed, in dire straits, but leave the medical things to me."