Read Under the Jolly Roger: Being an Account of the Further Nautical Adventures of Jacky Faber for Free Online

rage I've got in me. And while I'm doing that, I'm cursin' him straight to Hell and back again, and I get him across the shoulders and then twice across the face, back and forth, and he howls and curls up in a ball. Then I stop and stand over him, my chest heaving, and I tell all the people standin' around watchin' just what he's been up to, and then I work up a wad of spit and I spit it on him and then I get out of there before the peelers come.
    I slip around the corner of Trumbull Lane, tryin' to get back to the Benbow without being seen. I don't know what kind of friends that slime bag has with the local constables, and my experience with constables, both here and in the States, not bein' all that cordial, I lay low.
    I peek around the corner and find myself lookin' square into the eyes of Joannie, the girl from the Blackfriars Bridge Gang. We both start back.
    "Wot? Miss? Jacky? You?" she says. "What's going on?"
    I see that she's got the younger ones spread out around the square, hands out in begging, with eyes out for any chance for something better. Zeke leans against the Benbow, keepin' an eye out for any trouble.

    Joannie seems to have trouble speaking. She flushes and stammers, "I ... I'm sorry, Jacky, it ain't easy for me to talk like this wi' someone lookin' like you."
    I see, and I put my hand on her bare arm. "It's all a game, Joannie," I says, "and it would be good for you to remember that. Now listen," and I tell her what happened to Judy and about the girl I saw there and what's likely to happen to anyone who that man gets behind his door.
    She sags against the wall and lets her face become a mask of cold indifference like she's seen all this before, time and again. Then she says, "We'll tell all the other gangs. We'll work up a truce concerning Bride Street. We'll get there." Then her face gets hard as stone and she turns to me face on and hisses, "Depend upon it, Jacky. That dirty bugger'll never pass a peaceful day or night again. We'll take care of that!"

    I pop back into our room to Judy's great relief. "Mistress, I was so worried."
    "Just takin' care of some business" is all I'll say. "Now, let's get ready for bed. I plan a big day for tomorrow." With that I start undressing and she comes over and helps me get my clothes off and hung up proper.
    Later, when we've both got our nightdresses on and are under the covers, I say, "Now, Judy, would you like to hear a story?"
    "Coo, yes, Mistress, I would." She is easier with me now, now that I'm not in the lady clothes anymore.
    "Very well, get over here next to me and I will read you a story," and, as I feel her head on my shoulder, I pick up Amy's book and begin.

    "
My name is Jacky Faber and in London I was born...
"

    When I'm done with the first part, I ask her what she thinks and she says that this Amy's got it just about right, but didn't we do as much stealin' and scammin' as we done beggin'? And warn't there a whole lot of drunkards who regretted passin' out on our turf, with us swarmin' over 'em as soon as they hit the cobblestones? And I have to say aye, but Miss Amy, bein' a Puritan, felt she had to clean us up a bit—and I didn't tell her all of it.
    Judy giggles. "Remember the time you stole the famous Darby Ram right from under the noses of his keepers at the Great Fair and brought 'im back to the kip and..."
    Yes, I say, but that's another story.
    I read on far into the night, till she falls asleep, and then I read on silently till I am done. When I finish, I turn back to the cover and read once again
as told to her dear friend and companion Miss Amy Wemple Trevelyne.
Hmmm. Strange, that. I thought she hated me, betraying me to the kidnappers and all.
    Well, maybe someday we'll see. I snuff out the candle, draw Judy to me, and I go to sleep.

Chapter 3
    "Mistress, I wish you wouldn't do this," wails Judy.

    "I really wish that, I do."
    I've stripped off the clothes I had worn down to breakfast—dress, drawers, and stockings—and