In the Belly of the Bloodhound by L. A. Meyer
G'night, luv.
Chapter 23
John Higgins
The Lawson Peabody School for Young Girls
Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts, USA
May 28, 1806
Lieutenant James Fletcher
Bartleby's Inn
West Street
London, England
My Dear Mister Fletcher,
It is with a heavy heart that I must tell you some disquieting news. Our Miss Faber has gone missing and is presumed dead.
A boating party carrying the young ladies of the Lawson Peabody School on an outing apparently foundered on the rocks of an island shore. The presumption here is that the boat was swamped and the girls drowned. Personal articles have washed up and one body has been found.
Now that I have given you the worst of the news, I will tell you of some events that I feel might give you some hope.
Upon my receiving the dreadful news of the accident, I went directly down to the courthouse, where I had been told evidence of the disaster was being collected. Many soaked bonnets, shawls, purses were spread out on a bench in an anteroom and the body of Dobbs, the school handyman who went on the excursion, ostensibly to act as guardian to the girls, was laid out on a table in a side room. I must say I breathed a sigh of relief to find that the one body that had so far been found had been his and was not the corporeal remains of one of the girls. This anteroom had been set up as a morgue to receive the bodies of the girls as they are found, but none, in fact, had as yet been discovered. I found that passing strange, but said nothing. Some others present in the room in their official capacities were of the opinion that the young ladies' lighter forms simply had been carried out to sea, but I was not of that mind. At least one or two should have been found out of the thirty-two girls missing—twenty-nine of the young ladies of the school and three of the servant girls. Miss Amy Trevelyne, Miss Faber's dearest friend, elected not to go on the ill-fated excursion, choosing to stay behind to tend to Mistress Pimm, who had suddenly fallen ill. I met Miss Trevelyne at the courthouse in the company of Ezra Pickering, Miss Faber's American lawyer and very dear friend. Stricken with grief as he was, he was attempting to give comfort to Miss Trevelyne, who, though clearly in great anguish, still demanded to see the evidence of her dearest friend's demise.
We looked over the collection of sodden clothing, and I asked permission to view the body of Mr. Dobbs, which permission was granted, I believe, mainly because of the presence of Lawyer Pickering. He and I entered the makeshift morgue and went to the body. The deceased was lying faceup with his hands crossed on his chest, wearing an expression of what seemed to be mild surprise, but then, I suppose many of us exit this world with just such a look on our faces. I asked if an autopsy was going to be performed and was told that none was planned since it was plain that the man had drowned.
I asked that the body be stripped, and at Mr. Pickering's insistence, it was done. Clumsily and churlishly done, to be sure, by two disgruntled courthouse workers, but done, nonetheless. I then commenced my examination.
There were, of course, many contusions on the man's arms, legs, and body, entirely consistent with the body being tossed about in the surf and against the rocks of the shore. Still, to me, it seemed peculiar that the contusions did not have the purplish hue that occurs with bruises to a person who still has blood flowing in his veins. Putting on my gloves and raising the corpse's head as the body lay supine on the table, I felt a curious softness in the back of the skull and I drew Mr. Pickering's attention to it.
"I believe the man was hit on the back of the head before entering the water," I stated, and Mr. Pickering, upon making his own examination, concurred. "Hit very hard," he said, nodding, obviously thinking of the implications of this fact.
We then went back out into the hall with the intention of finding the attending physician. We sent one of the men off to look for him, and as he hurried off, we saw that Mistress Pimm had entered the building. She was plainly still shaky from her recent illness, but yet she stood erect, and, upon seeing Miss Trevelyne, nodded. Miss Trevelyne nodded back. There were no tears, no wails of grief and despair. Even in my own distress, I could not help but admire the stoical nature of these New England Yankee women, one of whom was sure she had lost her beloved classmates and her dearest friend, and the other who had lost virtually her entire school and all the girls who had been entrusted to her care.
I will now digress to the subject of Mistress Pimm's illness and a very important fact that pertains to it: The school mistress was not the only one suddenly stricken by sickness on that fateful day. You see, the plan for the outing was to include both me and Mistress Pimm, as well as Mr. Sackett, the Science and Math teacher. Mistress Pimm and myself were to instruct the girls on how to set out a proper picnic on the grass, and Mr. Sackett would instruct them, before and after the luncheon, on the nature of the flora and fauna of the seashore and help them collect specimens for future study. Such was not to be.
On the morning of the excursion, Miss Faber, bouncing up and down and off the walls in her usual enthusiasm over an outing or, for that matter, anything out of the ordinary, left me downstairs to continue packing the provisions as she returned to her friends upstairs. While I did so, assisted ably by the girls Annie and Sylvie, Mr. Dobbs did come upon me and insist that I try a cup of a new brew of coffee lately brought up from South America and said to be the finest thing of its kind. Although I had never particularly liked the company of handyman Dobbs, I could not, as Head of Staff, decently refuse. I took the cup and Dobbs hurried off with another cup for Mr. Sackett. It was, actually, quite good and I drank it down grate-fully ... a tinge of bitterness in it, though ... and twenty minutes later I was in bed, barely conscious, with the worst case of the grippe I had ever experienced. I have never been of a sickly nature and this came as a complete surprise to me. I assumed, in my near delirium, that the outing would be called off, with me unable to attend and lend my protection, but such was not to be. Neither Mistress Pimm nor I knew of the other's distress and incapacity, and so the day went on as planned, but not as planned by us, oh no, but as planned by the kidnappers, as kidnappers I now believe them to be.
Upon seeing me there in the courthouse, Mistress Pimm approached and demanded what I knew. I informed her that, aside from the articles of clothing and other personal items, nothing of the girls has been found. I told her of my examination of Dobbs and the following conversation ensued:
"Where is he?" she asked, looking about.
"In this room here, Mistress," said Mr. Pickering, "but he is..."
She brushed by him and opened the door and entered the room. She did not shrink from the sight of the naked body, but went right up to it and waited for me to lift the head to show her the concussion.
"So you surmise he was dead before he went into the water?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said. It was then that the physician, a bald and fussy little man, entered the room, muttering, "My, my, what a thing, what a thing..."
"How can we know for sure?" she asked.
"We should look to see if there is water in his lungs," I replied. "That will tell us."
"Oh, that won't be necessary," said the doctor, shaking his head. "This man obviously drowned and this is certainly no place for a lady, Madame, no place..."
Mistress Pimm turned to regard the little man and brought the full force of her steely gaze upon him.
"Open him up," she said, calmly and levelly, and the doctor tut-tutted and fussed, but he did go get his bag of tools, and the autopsy was performed.
There was no water in the corpse's lungs. Mistress Pimm was in attendance the entire time and she viewed the results, with, I believe, some satisfaction.
It has now been several days since the girls' disappearance and the following facts stand:
1. No bodies have yet been found.
2. No demand for ransom has been received.
3. A larger ship was seen in the area on that day. An
Taking the preceding facts into account, we could only come to the conclusion that the ship was a slaver and that the girls are being taken to the slave markets, most likely in North Africa, to be sold.
After we convinced the local authorities and the bereaved families of our conclusion, several small, fast cutters were dispatched from Boston to search for the mystery ship, and word was sent down to Virginia to General Howe, father of one of the missing girls, so that search ships can be sent out from there, too. He is a man of great means and can bear the cost of doing so. But it is a very large ocean...
So, there is plenty of room for hope, Sir. For even discounting the other evidence, I cannot believe that Miss Jacky Faber would be capable of drowning on a clear, calm day in smooth waters close to land. I have seen her in action—Sir, I was on the Wolverine on that very day when she jumped overboard and swam for the shore, very nearly making it before she was recaptured. The girl who could swim like that did not drown on a warm day in the calm waters of Massachusetts Bay, I assure you. As for being captured, well, she has been in worse predicaments, and she is a very clever and resourceful girl, as I am sure you know quite well.
I hope I have not been tedious, as I wanted only to lay the facts before you in as plain a manner as I could. I will end with the following: I cannot believe that such a spirit as hers has been quenched, or that her light, a light that has shone so brightly, has been so cruelly snuffed.
I will wait for further developments before informing the Reverend Alsop and Jacky's other friends at the Home, as I do not want to cause them needless distress just yet.
Wishing that this letter brought you better news, and trusting that you know we are doing all we can from here, I am your most obedient servant,
John Higgins
Chapter 24
The next morning, we are ready. Everyone is up and in their dresses and crouched at even intervals all around the Balcony, holding their cups and facing the lowered flaps. When the first one is lifted, I clap three times and...
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
"Wot the hell?" The outburst startles some of the men so much that they drop the flaps back down, but they recover and the shutters are raised and we continue our assault on their ears.
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
We are relentless. Over and over we chant it. We hit the bars with our cups on more, better, and flaps and it sets up a nice rhythm and a grand clatter. Looking out across the deck, we see the Captain burst out of his cabin, followed quickly by a yawning Nettles. A few of the men we can see out there act puzzled, but most are amused—they know what's good for them, however, so they look away and hide their faces from their captain's anger.
"Sin-Kay! Get up here!" bellows the Captain, and Sin-Kay comes up through the forward hatch, smoothing his deep purple jacket. Immediately upon gaining the deck, Sin-Kay is buttonholed by the Captain, who is pointing at us there pounding and chanting at the bars. We cannot hear the Captain's earnest words, but we can imagine what they are.
Sin-Kay makes mollifying gestures, like he'll take care of everything. Don't worry, just wait, they are only hysterical females, they will tire, you will see...
The Captain turns from him abruptly and goes up on his quarterdeck, crosses his arms, and glares at the set of the sails. Sin-Kay, with murder in his eyes, heads for us.
He comes down the hatchway, just as Hughie is bringing down the pot of burgoo.
"I do not know what you hope to accomplish with this, but..."
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
"...but you cannot possibly win. And when I find out who's behind this," and here he glares at Clarissa, "it will go very hard for them."
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
"Pah!" He spits. "I have had enough of this! You shall break, depend upon it!" He goes back out, leaving a confused Hughie holding his ladle over his steaming pot, not knowing what to do. Seeing that Nettles is not with him, I jump down from the Balcony and go to the hatchway. I reach in through the bars and run my hand through Hughie's tousled hair.
"No food yet, Hughie, but we'll be all right, you'll see," I say, 'cause he looks worried. It's been thirty-six hours now since food has crossed our lips.
"Gotta eat, Mary," he mumbles. He dips his ladle in the burgoo and fills a bowl and goes to pass it to me.
"Not yet, Hughie," I say, backing away from the steaming bowl of the now delicious-looking gruel. The girls have come to the end of another cycle of chants, and I say, just loud enough for them to hear and no one else, "All of you are doing just fine. Division One, down for water. Divisions Two and Three, back at 'em." Clap, clap, clap.
As the other two divisions swing back into it, Clarissa and her Division One climb down off the Balcony and have their water cups filled. After they have refreshed themselves, the other divisions will be called down in turn, and the first division will go back up. That way we'll always have at least twenty girls up at the bars at all times, chanting, with one division resting—we don't want anyone's voice to give out.
Clarissa comes over to confer, her nose in her cup. As the water hits her belly, it gives off a threatening growl, demanding more than mere water.
"After they've all drunk their water, we'll go to the second phase of the Plan, all right?"
She grunts in reply. "Right. Do you think they'll hold?"
"They're all right so far. We can only wait and see," I say, and then go back up to my division. A peek out shows that the Captain still stands glowering on his quarterdeck. I slam my cup extra hard against the iron bars and join in the chant.
More water!
Better food!
Flaps open till dark!
When we're done with the last five chant repetitions, I hold up my hand and all fall silent. I count to six, then drop my arm. The girls take a common deep breath and Phase Two begins:
Ninety-nine bottles of wine on the wall,
Ninety-nine bottles of wine!
Take one down
And pass it around,
Ninety-eight bottles of wine on the wall!
Ninety-eight bottles of wine on the wall...
And so on and so on, in the classic drive-your-parents-mad ditty. We keep it going, pausing every ten bottles to do five of the regular chant, and then back to those never-ending bottles of wine. The Captain is now pacing back and forth on the deck, right out in front of us. As we get down to fifty bottles of wine, he rushes the cage and kicks at a hand clutching a bar. Minerva barely gets her fingers back in time. He goes back to the quarterdeck, mumbling curses under his breath. His pacing grows more and more agitated as we work our way down through the numbers.
Finally we get to the end.
One bottle of wine on the wall,
One bottle of wine!
Take one down
And pass it around,
No bottles of wine on the wall!
There is a ringing silence.
I count to six, raise my hand, then bring it down. Another common deep breath is taken and...
Ninety-nine bottles of wine on the wall,
Ninety-nine bottles of wine...
That cuts it. The Captain is off the quarterdeck, bellowing, "Chubbuck! Dunphy! To me!" and he charges to the hatchway and plunges down the stair
"Open this goddamn door!" he roars, and Sin-Kay, who has heard the commotion and come down as well into the now quite crowded hatchway, pulls out his key and opens the cage door. The enraged Captain Blodgett strides to the center of the Stage.
"All of you, get down here!" he shouts up at us. Nobody moves.
I think of doing the three claps to get them started again, but don't. Let's see what he has to say first, I'm thinking. I catch Clarissa's attention, across from me, on the other Balcony, and nudge Sylvie, beside me. Sylvie looks at me, I nod, and she leads the way. And so we all follow her down to the Stage. Clarissa elbows Cloris and they all follow her.