I gulp down the rest of my burgoo, stash my still-full cup of water up on the back edge of the Balcony, where I'll be able to get it later, and go to the door.

"I need a bowl to take to that girl over there," I say, pointing to Rebecca's still form lying on the deck. The Dummy looks down at the several bowls and cups left unclaimed. "They're too sick to come get their own and we have to help them." He thinks deeply, puts two and two together, and nods. He ladles the burgoo into the bowl and dips the cup into the water bucket. I say, "Thank you," then carry them over to Rebecca and sit down cross-legged beside her.

I lift her head and cradle it in the crook of my left arm. "Come, Rebecca, you must eat something or else you will die, and we don't want that." Her eyelids flicker as she looks up at me. I take a spoonful of the gruel and put it between her lips and she gulps and swallows. Then she bucks and gags and I turn her to the side so the sick comes out of her mouth and slips down through the slattings.

I put the burgoo aside and lift her head higher and put her cup of water to her lips. "At least you must have water. You lost everything in your belly last night and you must have water or you'll die."

I put my lips to her ear. "Come on, Rebecca Adams, we need you with us in this." Her eyes open again and she sips at the water and then lies back down. I watch her and she keeps the water in. That is good.

I look over at Division One. Clarissa and Lissette are together, seated on the Stage, their backs against the port hull, eating their burgoo. I see that Ruth Alden and Judith Leavitt, both of Clarissa's division, are down, in a state similar to Rebecca's.

I say nothing to Clarissa. Instead, I say to Martha Hawthorne, of Division Two and Dolley Frazier's dearest friend, "Martha. You might look to Catherine and Wilhelmina. Dolley's too sick to take command just yet. Try to get some water down them, at least." Catherine Lowell and Wilhelmina Johnson are both inert forms lying motionless on the deck.

Martha upends her bowl into her mouth, hands it to Dorothea, and goes over to minister to the two down girls. I look over significantly at Clarissa and then at Ruth and Judith. I catch Clarissa's eye and she catches my meaning-with the advantages of command also come responsibilities- and she says, "Christina, Cloris, see what you can do about Ruth and what's-her-name. See if they will drink some water, at least."

Well, delegation of task is a part of command, I suppose, so I have no quarrel with Clarissa's method. I do notice, however, that after I have stopped looking at her, she does crawl over to Ruth and speaks to her, after Christina and Cloris had gotten food and water and were trying to minister to the sick girls.

"Here, Rebecca, try another sip, it'll..."

There is a tug at my sleeve and I see that it's Elspeth, looking plaintively into my eyes.

"Jacky ... please ... I've got to ... my parents..."

Christ! She's still on about that!

"Elspeth, your parents think you are dead. You are not dead and you should take consolation in that. Now take hold and be quiet!" I hiss at her. I've got to be cruel-she's just got to stop that nonsense.

Her mouth drops open and her lower lip quivers. I would have thought those eyes had no more tears in them, but they do, and tears stream down her face. Then she bows her head and buries her face in her hands and sobs.

I turn my attention back to Rebecca and pay Elspeth no more mind. In a while she crawls off and curls up in a ball over by the hull to wallow in her misery.

Eventually, all who can eat have eaten and the bowls and spoons are put back through the bars, where the Dummy pours any uneaten burgoo back into the cauldron. He then takes it and the utensils and tromps up the stairs and out through the upper door.

"Now!" I say to my four designated lookouts and they hurry to their positions and peer through the bars. "Report!" I say when they've had a chance to scan the decks.

"No one near," says Beatrice Cooper. She's from a farm north of Boston and seems to be a capable girl. "There are men back there on that raised-up part where the wheel is."

"The quarterdeck," I say. They might as well learn the names of things-it will make things easier, later.

"And I think that's the Captain there ... the one with the crossed belts on his chest and the sword by his side."

"That's him all right," I say. "Anything else? Annie?"

"No. Nobody's about."

"It's plain that the crew takes the Captain's orders to heart, else they would be three deep at the bars, gawking at us," I tell the girls around me.

"Nothin' over here, neither," says Katy from port forward. "Just some men over there messin' with them ropes."

"The same," says Sylvie. "I can see the ... the quarterdeck from here, too. The Captain's pointing up at the sails and talking to another man."

Probably the First Mate, I'm thinking. "All right, keep a sharp lookout and sing out if you see anyone getting near." With that, I turn and face the other girls on the Stage.

"Listen to me, all of you. Some things need to be said. Elspeth, you sit up and listen!" I pause, and when I'm sure I have everyone's attention, I go on. "Our greatest enemy right now is not those men out there. Our greatest enemy is hopelessness and despair. We cannot allow ourselves to sink into the slough of despond. What Sin-Kay said about suicide sent a chill up my spine, for I know that all of us will at some point feel it is useless to resist and it would be easiest to just give up and end it all-all the misery and pain and the promise of a life spent in shameful slavery." I pause for breath and for effect.

"But not all is hopeless, for I tell you that we will get out of this, that we will go back home, but to do that we must stick together and be strong and banish all thoughts of gloom and doom from our minds."

"But, Jacky, how can we have any hope, in all ... in all this?" blurts out Helen Bailey, gesturing with her hands at the Hold in all its grimness.

"Because, Helen, plans are being made. We can't tell you what they are, for they are not firm enough yet. I will tell you that Clarissa and I did some exploring last night and discovered some very interesting things, things that give us great hope." Many heads turn to look at Clarissa, wondering at the strange fact of she and I doing anything together except trying to strangle each other.

"And we have resources our captors do not even know about."

"Resources? What resources?" This from Caroline Thwackham, granddaughter of Judge Thwackham of the People's Court of Boston, with whom I had a passing and not very pleasant acquaintance. I still live under the threat of his sentence of an even dozen lashes should I ever appear in his court again.

"Caroline, are we all not 'Pimm's Girls' and therefore the finest and fiercest of our sex? Are we not?" I pause for a moment for that to take hold. "Yes, we are and that is our greatest resource and that is what will bring us through this. And mark me on this: Those evil men will yet live to regret the taking of the girls of the Lawson Peabody. And know this, too: It is a long way from here to the coast of Africa, and anything can happen, anything!"

There are other resources, but I ain't gonna tell them about those just yet.

Then, all is silence. Is that the stiffening of backbones I sense?

"Good. Now let us start conducting ourselves in a manner in which Mistress would approve. There are many ways we can improve our condition. Let us get started." This is, for me, a long speech, but I press on: "First of all, everything we say or do must be kept secret from our captors. And that's everything-the fact that we have organized into divisions, the fact that we are talking like this, the fact that plans are being made. They must know nothing of us and what we are doing, yet we must know everything about them. That is why we are going to set daylight watches up there where the lookouts are now, and we are starting that watch rotation right now. There are enough of us such that you will each stand a one-hour watch once every day or so. Priscilla, will you set up the schedule?"

Priscilla Cabot, who is a precise, fussy sort, nods. This sort of task is right up her alley.

"We must stay sharp in all the ways we can. Lissette, if you could conduct a class in the French language each day for, say, an hour, I know it would be most appreciated. Hepzibah, a choral group would lift spirits-a song each evening before we go to sleep. I have a suggestion for this evening's-"

"Jacky! Two men coming!" warns Annie. "They're swinging something over here!"

"It's a lifting thing. Like we had to get hay in the barn," says Katy, who also can see out forward.

"All right. Hush, everybody." And we all watch to see what is going to happen. Presently a square of light opens up in the hatch cover that is our ceiling. It is a small hatch that has been thrown open, a small hatch that I hadn't noticed before because of the gloom up there.

"All of yiz. Against the back wall. Quick now, Captain's orders," snaps a man's voice, and two hooks on cables come snaking down into the Hold. "Two of yiz go down there and put the hooks on one o' them tubs."

Hmmm ... Cockney, from the sound of him.

"Rose, come with me," I say, and we head down to the Pit. We cross the Pit deck and stand by the tubs and watch as the hooks come slowly down.

"What will you do with 'em, then, Jock?" I ask up at the unseen man who had spoken.

"Dump 'em, you ninny, what the 'ell did you think we'd do wi' 'em? But we ain't supposed to talk to yiz, so shut yer gob."

A real friendly type, I can tell.

"I know that, Jocko," I says back at him, keeping in the Cockney way of talking to maybe get a little familiar with him. "But when you put them over the side, will you give 'em a bit of a rinse?" The tubs are made of shiny tin, so they would rinse right clean.

"Nay. Just dump. Now put on them hooks," says the man. I can see the outline of his head up there silhouetted against the light.

"Here, Rose. Take your hook and put it through the eye there. That's it. Now hold it there till they take up the slack. Good. All right, Jocko, haul away!"

I hear the sound of a winch being ratcheted up on deck and the strain is taken on the cable and the tub rises up and through the hatch. It is then swung to the side and disappears. While waiting for the empty tub to return, I notice for the first time a metal eye on the edge of the bottom of the other tub. Ah. So that is how the job is done-the tub is swung outboard, another line is attached to that bottom eyelet, a strain is taken on that line, the tub is lowered and so upends itself and empties into the sea. Neat. I like to know how things are done.

The first tub swings back in and comes down fast. It has not been rinsed. Damn. It would be such a simple thing for them to do, too.

"Oow, Jocko, you didn't rinse it, and you seem like such a nice cove, you do."

"Stoof it and hook up the other one or we'll send the Dummy down to do it."

"Now, ducks, is that any way to speak to a lady? No, it ain't. Now be a luv and rinse out this one. There you go, mate, hooks on-haul away."

Again the tub rises and again it disappears through the hatch and again returns, unrinsed. The hooks are withdrawn and the hatch slams shut without another word from the men. We'll see next time, Jocko...

Later, we have our first French lesson from Lissette, it being mostly call-and-response, of course, having no blackboard and no books, but Lissette does a pretty good job of it, even providing a clear explanation of the future subjunctive case, which I've always found rather baffling. After that is done, I take one of my petticoats and make a great show of tearing part of it into small rags. We each wear two petticoats under our dress, Mistress having been very strict in the matter of the uniformity of our costume, but we sure don't need either one of them here.

"I think we should each claim a sleeping spot, so we can have a place to keep our cups and our dresses when we're not wearing them," I say when I see that I have their attention. "You could mark your place by folding up one of your petticoats and putting it there." All of our underclothes have our initials on them in ink. I keep on ripping and talking. "I think we should spread out equally on each side of the Balcony, not sleep all on one side like we did last night"

Saying that, I take my ripped strips of cloth and my cup of water and go up the stairs to the port Balcony, walk a few steps along it, then stop. I want to be close to the stairs so I can get up unobserved in the night. I put down my cup, which still is half full, and I reach up under my dress and pull down my other petticoat, fold all but one of my strips in it, and arrange it so that the J. F. mark shows and put it up next to the hull wall.

Then I go to the edge of the Balcony and sit down. I know they're all still watching me as I dip my rag in my cup enough to moisten it and then I proceed to wash my face-it's not much of a wash, with only a damp rag, but it's something and it feels good. I close my eyes and revel in this small pleasure, and when I open them, I see the girls arranging themselves on the Balcony, and I hear the ripping of fabric.

We'll see who gets dirty, Sin-Kay.

After I've gotten the still-helpless Rebecca and the still-distraught Elspeth arranged in place on either side of my pillow, I use my cloth to clean Rebecca's face, and the coolness of it revives her a bit, so she's able to sit up and lean her back against the wall. That's a good sign.

Leaving them there, I go back to the Stage and announce, "Officers' Call," the traditional signal for the officers to gather for a conference. When Dolley and Clarissa look at me, I motion with my head for them to follow me down into the Pit. Clarissa, who has, of course, taken up residence on the opposite part of the Balcony from me, arranges her bundle to her liking and then follows, as does Dolley.

"We've got to talk," I say to the two of them in a low voice so I can't be overheard by the other girls. "First, let's show Dolley the Rat Hole."

We do it, and when she sees it she says, "But what's the plan? We certainly can't get through that. I certainly can't" she says, looking down at her rather ample chest. Dolley carries a considerable bit of tail, too, but it is all arranged in a pleasing way-she certainly didn't lack for gentlemen callers back at the school. Thinking of the school gives me a sharp pang of homesickness, but I push it down.

"We are going to widen it out."

"But how?"

"Yes, how, Commander Know-it-all?" echoes Clarissa, her voice heavy with scorn.

"With this." And with that, I pull my shiv out of my sleeve. Even in the dim light down here, the blade shines, its edge sharp as a razor and the cock's head I had carved on the handle, so long ago, grinning evilly.

"Where did you get that?" asks Dolley, her eyes wide in wonder. I believe she has forgotten her seasickness.

"I had it stashed in my seabag, which I managed to kick down into the Hold when all eyes were on you two while you were talking with that evil Simon," I say. I had taken the blade out this morning when no one was looking and had decided then to hide it separate from the bag, in case the bag was discovered. There's a lot of stuff in that bag that'll come in handy, but without the knife, we are lost.

"We can set up shifts of two girls each-one carves away while the other rests, and they pass the knife back and forth. If we do it throughout each day when we have light, we'll have it wide enough in no time. We're under the Stage here and can't be spotted from above." At that, we all look up at the light coming through the slats of the Stage. Dolley nods in agreement.

"But what then?" asks the ever-doubtful Clarissa.

"We see what's on the other side, is what. We know the galley is over there, and so we know we can steal fire. We can steal other things we'll need, too," I whisper urgently. "And we know there's a powder magazine over there, too. Did you notice the six guns on deck when we were brought aboard? There's got to be powder for them."

"We're going to shoot them?" asks Dolley. "I don't know if the girls are-"

"No. Here's the plan as I have roughed it out: We get through to the other side. We find the powder magazine. We make a fuse. On the day of our escape, we create a diversion, get all the men on deck and all the girls through the Rat Hole and into one of those lifeboats hanging outboard. We light the fuse, lower the boat, and get away from the ship. We will have already disabled the other lifeboat so it can't be launched to chase us down. I know how to sail that boat-hell, I could sail this one, but I don't think we've got enough strength to overpower the crew, as they're a grim, mean bunch. So anyway, the powder blows, the wretched Bloodhound sinks, and we sail away to the shipping lanes to the north. If we have good weather, we're sure to be picked up shortly by a passing warship or merchantman, and back we go to Boston."

It is wonderful to see the glimmer of hope, however slight, shine in their faces-the chance, though right now very slim, of going home.

"Course, there's lots to be done between now and then, and I ain't figured out everything yet, but-"

"But it's a chance!" says Clarissa, pounding one fist into the palm of the other. "It's a real chance! Let's start right now! Give me that knife!"

"Not just yet. Let's give the girls some time to settle in and get used to things. I don't want them to know anything about this at all-not the knife, not the plan, not anything. If we are betrayed, we are lost, and we don't know how strong some of the girls would be in the face of temptation. No, let's wait, we have time-this is only the second day and it will take at least a month to get us over to wherever they're planning to sell us. In a little while we'll know better how things lie. Agreed?"

They both nod.

"Good. Now let's get the girls settled in their routines. It will give them some comfort. I, myself, am looking forward to Hepzibah's choral practice this afternoon."

And this evening later, much, much later, I'm looking forward to visiting an old and very dear friend...

Chapter 21.

I lie here in the dark and I wait. And while I wait, I think back on the events of this evening.

The early-evening choral practice went wonderfully, with Hepzibah placing us in ranks on the Stage in a similar manner to where we once stood before Signor Fracelli-sopranos in the middle, altos to either side. We did Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze," which went over well, in spite of the fact that we didn't have a written score in front of us. We ran over some rough spots several times, but memory served and we eventually got it right. I wonder what the scum up above thought of the sounds of music coming from the helpless captives below. Could this be how the quality acts in times of trouble, scum?

Then the shutters came slamming down again at six in the evening, right between the two dogwatches, and we were thrown again into darkness, but not before we all got back to our kips and settled in before it happened. The girls are beginning to live according to the bells of the various watches.

I lie here and think, and I know the others are doing the same. It's plenty light out and too early to go to sleep just yet. There's no reason to shut us down this early. We'll have to bring it up with Sin-Kay in the morning, and I think we should have some of the other girls speak up to Sin-Kay so he doesn't get the idea that me and Dolley and Clarissa are the leaders, 'cause then he might- "Jacky...," a voice says from the dark-whose voice, I don't know.

"What?"

"How do you think they managed to capture us like this? How did they get away with it? It all seems so bizarre..."

I sit up and collect my thoughts on that, then I say, "I think it probably went something like this: Simon and Jerome come up to Boston, probably on some other business-runaway slave or something like that. Simon, smarting over some slight from Clarissa's dad and looking for an easy score, cases out the school. They find the surly Dobbs, plainly dissatisfied with his station in life. They get him drunk and talking, and then they present him with what he thinks is the offer of a lifetime-turned out to be just so, though the lifetime turned out to be shorter than he expected. So Simon has cards printed up that say 'Harrison's Tours-See the Beautiful Massachusetts Bay in all its splendor-scientific day tours.' Dobbs shows it to Mr. Sackett, who has a fine inquisitive mind and loves fieldwork and is a lover of birds, too. And he's thinking, Oh, who knows what species we might see out there on a far island?"

"He said exactly that," says a voice that is plainly Dorothea's, she having been Mr. Sackett's special student. "He said that on that very morning."

"Mr. Sackett then enthusiastically presents the idea to Mistress, and she is skeptical, of course, but Simon arranges to meet her, and, as the suave Mr. Harrison, shows her he knows how to act the perfect gentleman, and he presents her with seemingly solid letters of reference. Sin-Kay, as Jerome, is around playing the clown to endear himself to the girls and to show how happy and harmless everything is, and Mistress agrees-after all, she's going along, too, as well as Higgins and Mr. Sackett. Don't forget, it's springtime for Mistress, too, and she thinks she'd probably enjoy the day. That's how the job was done. Dobbs poisoned the three of them the next day, and we all got in the coaches as meek as mice. It was nicely done, I must say. I don't think I could have come up with a better plan, myself."

Silence.

Then another, smaller voice comes out of the dark. "I know you said we'd get out of this, Jacky. But what if we don't? What will happen if they get us to Africa?"