Part 15 (1/2)

”I heard about a young man who was accused-”

”Ephraim had nothing to do with it! He's a good man, the best man I know!” she says.

Ah. So that's the way of it.

”And Ephraim is...,” I probes, I hope kindly.

”Ephraim Fyffe is apprenticed to a furniture maker. On Milk Street,” she says, her voice all chokey. ”And they didn't even...” She chokes all the way up.

”And?”

”And her parents didn't even come up to get her, after all that was done to her. She was put in the ground without friends about her, without words, without a stone. And they didn't even ring the death knell for her.”

I resolve to see this Mr. Fyffe at first opportunity.

During a break in the afternoon's work, I take a look at the west wall of the school from the outside and I see right off that I don't need the rope at all 'cause there's small rungs set into the masonry of the chimney wall and they go all the way to the roof. Of course. They are there so's the chimney sweep can get to the roof and do his work without having to carry all his black and sooty brushes through the main house to the widow's walk. The rungs start about twelve feet from the bottom. To discourage burglars, I'm thinkin', but it ain't gonna discourage me.

The vile Dobbs's toolshed is not fifty feet away and I discover there are several ladders alongside it that would serve. I could go out my window, climb down the rungs, and then drop the last twelve feet. To get back in I could use one of the ladders to get to the rungs. But then I'd have to leave the ladder in place and somebody might spot it in the morning before I had a chance to go out and stash it. No, it'll have to be done with some rope, after all. I'll get about a fifteen-foot length and when I climb down I'll tie it to the third rung from the bottom, drop down to the ground, and leave it hanging there till I get back later. The bushes will hide most of it. When I come back, I'll climb up the rope, untie it when I'm still on the bottom rung, and take it inside with me and no one will be the wiser.

And that is how the job will be done.

The prayers are said, the lamps are out. All is quiet and I'm puttin' my leg out the window with me s.h.i.+v and me penny-whistle in my vest and my concertina looped 'round me neck in one of the net bags we use for laundry. In there, too, is my white sailor top from back on the s.h.i.+p, with its navy blue flap with white piping and my HMS Dolphin cap. I figure I can put those on with my black skirt and stockings showing down below, and, well, I'll look right nautical and it'll make a jolly stage costume.

Down I go. In a moment, I'm off on the town.

I pick my way through the streets this time, as the usually lovely Common looks right scary in the dark. After Common Street I cuts down School Street 'cause I don't want to get close to the jail again and then down Cornhull, sticking close to the wall, just an innocent serving-girl headin' dutifully home to her lovin' parents, that's all, then on to State Street and there's the Pig and Whistle, its doorway glowin' in the growin' dark. Down the street I can see that the other taverns, the ones closest to the docks, have got big, boisterous crowds. The fleet must be in.

I peek in the Pig, all timid now that I'm actually here, and I see that there's maybe ten men sitting at tables. It don't look like they're up for much of a party, I'm thinkin'. Gulliver MacFarland is just goin' up on the little stage in back and takin' his fiddle from the case. He don't look drunk, but then he don't look cold sober, either, so I 'spect he's only had enough coin to buy some ale. I guess he's abiding by Maudie's rule, whether he likes it or not. He looks a little bit cleaner, like maybe he cleaned up his clothes some.

I open my bag and pull out my sailor top and slip it on, then put my cap on at a rakish angle, and head for the stage. Gully looks up in mild surprise as I step up and turn around to face the crowd.

”Good evening, Gentlemen! G.o.d rest ye merry and welcome to the Pig and Whistle, the finest of the public houses in dear old Boston! We are the musical team of Faber and Mac-Farland, and we will be singing and playing for you tunes that are sure to bring joy to your heart, a spring to your step, and a tear to your eye! And we will start with 'Drowsy Maggie'!”

And I rips into it with feet and whistle and Gully comes right in with the fiddle, just like we practiced it, and soon the place is rockin' with cheers and shouts and the stamping of feet. And then we heads into the jocular ”Bungo Rye,” which I do with my concertina and Gully sings the part of Jack the Sailor and I sing the part of the Damsel. Gully sings: ”Well, Jack was a sailor, and he walked up to town

And she was a damsel, who skipped up and down”

Then I pipes up with: ”Says the damsel to Jack as she pa.s.sed him by,

Would you care for to purchase some old bungo rye,”

And then we both come in for the chorus: ”Ruddy rye, ruddy rye, fall the diddle die,

Ruddy rye, ruddy rye.”

Then Gully again with: ”Says Jack to himself, 'What can this be?'

But the finest of whisky from far Ger-man-ie?

Snuggled up in a basket and sold on the sly,

And the name that it goes by is old bungo rye!”

And then both of us on the chorus, and then I come in with: ”Jack gave her a pound, 'cause he thought nothing strange.

Hold the basket, young man, while I run for your change.

Jack peeked in the basket and a child he did spy,

I'll be d.a.m.ned and he cried, 'This is queer bungo rye!'”

And in the middle of that verse, I hand Gully a bundle in which is a baby doll that Gully had got somewheres and he opens it up and looks properly shocked at its contents and he holds it up to the audience and they roar out with laughter. There's more verses where poor Jack goes to get the child christened and when the preacher asks what the name of the boy will be he says, ”Queer Bungo Rye,” and the Preacher says that's a mighty queer name and Jack says it's a queer way he came and that'll be his name, by G.o.d.

There's hoots and hollers at the end of it and my blood is up for sure and Gully whispers, ”'The Liverpool Hornpipe,'” and we swing into that and I notice some coves darting out and coming back in with more coves and pointing at us and so the place is filling up.

Then Gully steps out front and says, ”Now the incomparable Miss Jacky will put aside her instruments and dance,” and he hits ”Smash the Windows,” and I steps out and I shows 'em how it's done.