Boston Jacky: Being an Account of the Further Adventures of Jacky Faber, Taking Care of Business by L. A. Meyer Page B

was right in thinkin’ that, Jemimah. It didn’t happen, no. Last I saw of Big Daddy he was still happily croakin’ on his lily pad.
    When I wind up the tale, Jemimah slaps her knee in delight, and says, “That one’s goin’ in my Brother Rabbit story bag, Sister Girl, that’s for damn sure!”
    I lift my glass and say, “Here’s to Brother Bullfrog. Long may he croak! I sure did appreciate those fine,
fine
crawdaddies he provided for me! Without ’em, I don’t think I’da made it to Madrid!”
    Then we sit and talk, and I tell her of my plans for the Pig and the barn next to it, and how she might fit in and make some more money for herself, and she is all for that. But then my head begins to droop, so she damps down the fire and sends me off to bed.
    Â 
    Ah, my lovely, lovely little cabin. How I missed you,
Nancy
, I missed you so very, very much . . .
    . . . and I miss you, too, Jaimy, and I hope to see you soon. But I dunno . . . things turn this way and then they turn that way and what happens is never anything I expect, y’know? Chopstick Charlie says you’re all settled in your mind now and are headed to Boston. Who’da thought any of that. I just don’t know, I . . . I just fall over the edge of all thought and . . . slip down and . . . sleep.

Chapter 5
    James Fletcher
    Envoy, House of Chen
    New Bedford, Massachusetts, USA
    Â 
    June 10, 1809
    Jacky Faber
    Somewhere on this continent, it is to be hoped
    Â 
    Dear Jacky,
    I landed today in the New England town of New Bedford and again I step onto the soil of the United States of America.
    It is a charming town, well laid out, with many fine houses and a forest of high masts at the docks. It is a whaling town, as I believe you know, since you once took ship from here, according to what I have read in one of Amy Trevelyne’s rather vivid accounts of your journeys . . . and your equally vivid . . . doings.
    My way over here on the
Mary Bissell
was most pleasant, after we had rid ourselves of the company of the loathsome Mr. Skelton. I spent many happy hours in the presence of the Reverend Lowe and his lovely wife and daughters. His son, Jeremiah, attached himself to me early on, viewing me as some sort of exotic warrior, I suppose, and I did teach him some of the basic moves of the Bo stick, as well as some of the more rough-and-tumble tactics common to Royal Navy ship’s boys. I fear for the health of any schoolyard bully who attempts to cross our young Mister Jeremiah Lowe in the future. Upon docking, he pleaded to come with me on my travels, but I convinced him that a proper education was a prerequisite for a young man before entering a life of adventure as an officer and a gentleman, and he reluctantly agreed and left the ship still secure in the bosom of his loving family. I wish him well for he is a fine lad.
    On the very wise advice of our mutual friend Charlie Chen, I intend to stay in disguise for the time being, considering my past actions in England. Rather rash actions, I will admit, but what is done, is done.
    As for this masquerade, before I left Rangoon, the crown of my head was gently shaved and the remaining hair gathered into a bun at the nape of my neck, giving me a definite Eurasian appearance. I will continue to use the name Master Kwai Chang gave me—Cheung Tong. It is Chinese for “Long Boy.” After my farewells to Captain Van Pelt and the Lowes, I stepped off the
Mary Bissell
and repaired to an alley. I had a long black hooded cloak, and dark silk clothing beneath it, which certainly enhanced my Asian appearance, and in that alley, I stuffed my simple seabag high up under the cloak to rest on my right shoulder, giving me the look of an unfortunate hunchback. I fashioned an eye patch from a bit of black cloth, and thus attired, I sallied forth, affecting a pronounced limp.
    It is not far to Boston.