Her bitter thoughts of self-reproach were quickly broken by the friendly voice of Jonesy, red-faced from running in the heat, “Oi, Lil’ Jane, been looking all over for you! I got all me things and—”
The peddlers were instantly quiet, shrinking back under the canopies of their stalls. The rude fabric seller looked down at an unfolded bolt of pink silk that was suddenly in need of immediate attention, and Little Jane felt her old confidence returning as the other merchants bowed subserviently to Jonesy.
“G’morning, sir,” said one, touching his forelock respectfully.
“Fancy a sample, mahn?” asked another meekly.
“No thanks, mate,” said Jonesy with a grin, and touched Little Jane on the shoulder. The peddlers retreated into the inner recesses of their stalls like frightened turtles. Little Jane suspected they had seen the large blue convict’s tattoo sprawled across the meaty flesh between Jonesy’s thumb and forefinger and were afraid.
“C’mon, love,” he said, “I expect your Mum and Da be waitin’ for us by now.”
Little Jane took his hand and they headed back to the cart.
On the bumpy trip back to the Spyglass she sat amid the day’s purchases. There were casks of rum, salted meat, sacks of flour, and boxes of tangerines and other savouries, all headed for the tavern kitchen.
Ordinarily, Little Jane loved the return trip home from the market. She usually helped herself to Jonesy’s purchases while her cousin was busy driving the donkeys, but today she just sat listlessly on top of the tangerine boxes while Jonesy prattled on about all the fresh local gossip. Tongues were wagging about the new new magistrate, last seen running around the island with a butterfly net, of all things.
Little Jane’s mind turned things over, happiness leaking from her like water from a punctured barrel. It wasn’t that the peddlers had finally recognized her as the tough pirate she was and then become all deferential. No — it was that her cousin Jonesy had come along and they were afraid of him. And he wasn’t even a pirate! He was just a seaport barkeep with a prison record, hands like two slabs of mutton, and a wealth of inked flesh. Yes, perhaps she could see how someone unfamiliar with her cousin might fear him and mistake him for a buccaneer. But that didn’t explain the fact that they’d mistaken her for a street urchin.
Such a thing had never happened to her before. She wondered if she had worn something different today, acted in some unaccustomed way as to give them the wrong impression about her importance or piratical affiliation, but she couldn’t think of anything. So why had such a comment never been uttered before in her presence?
The realization hit Little Jane like a load of grapeshot. It was simply this: everyone on the Pieces of Eight knew who her parents were. No hand would question the captains’ decision to raise their daughter onboard. And then, in Smuggler’s Bay — well, everyone at the Spyglass knew of her parentage. When she went to market, she never went alone — always with her mother, father, cousin, or one of the crew. But by herself, without a real buccaneer by her side, they all thought she was just an ordinary child. Of course, she reflected, people were known to make mistakes based on appearances. She knew the story of how her mother’s father, Old Captain Bright, once returned to port after a shipwreck so violent it tore half the clothes from his body, making his own best mate confuse him for a beggar.
Ah, but Old Captain Bright really was a pirate captain, countered her brain, with three ships’ of ruthless buccaneers at his command. You say you’re a pirate, but what do you actually do aboard the Pieces of Eight?
I help Ishiro peel potatoes sometimes, she thought meekly.
Ooooh, impressive, responded her traitorous mind.
I also help Rufus, the cabin boy, swab the deck, feed the ship’s chickens, stack cannonballs, and—
So what? scoffed her cynical psyche. Do you go out on the boarding parties? Trim the sails? Or just sit and watch everyone else do it?
And then, the most horrific thought of all struck her square in the face like a sailboat’s boom — I’m not a pirate at all! I’m … I’m … a passenger!
No wonder the man at the market didn’t respect her. No wonder, if she never did anything of any real use whatsoever around the ship! But that will not stand, she resolved. Was she not Jane Irene Amelia Silver, the daughter of Bonnie Mary Bright and Long John Silver?
From this day forward I will show that dog of a fabric seller! Soon the name of Little Jane Silver — No, Jane Silver — will command respect from every corner of the globe!
Aye, she would be feared! Feared, known and honoured above every other infamous rogue who styled himself a pirate-sailor! Oh, and how they would all tremble and quake in their boots and hold their tongues, lest they speak saucily and she chop them off! Let them dare call her Little Jane then!
So, having at last resolved to bend all efforts to the extension of her impending infamy, Little Jane began her villainous career by eating an over-ripe tangerine from Jonesy’s pile and promptly fell asleep.
Chapter 3
Dinner Conversation
“This year,” announced Little Jane to her parents, whilst they tucked into their customary Tuesday night dinner of hog’s face and green lichen, “this year I want to go on a boarding party.”
Bonnie Mary Bright and Long John Silver looked up at their daughter as if she had just informed them she wanted to be emperor of China.
“You must be joking,” said her father.
“Too dangerous,” proclaimed her mother conclusively. “Absolutely too dangerous. Do you know what happens to sailors who try to board ships without the proper preparation?”
Little Jane did not know or really care, but she had the feeling she was going to find out anyway.
“Well? Do you?”
“They turn into pumpkins?”
“Don’t be saucy now, young lady!”
“This ain’t a game, love,” warned Bonnie Mary. “I’ve seen many an experienced man struck down boarding a ship.”
“That’s right,” interjected Long John. “Why, when I were a young lad, I disobeyed a direct order not to participate in the raiding of a French frigate. Little then did I know the captain kept a pet Australian alligator onboard—”
“Jim,” warned Bonnie Mary, who could always tell when her husband was about to go off topic. But Long John continued, quickly warming to the tale.
“I had but set me leg over the rail when ... SNAP! Gone was me new boot, and foot with it! Worse still, the gator what took ’em followed me around for months after, still lookin’ for another taste! Eventually, I had to—”
“Hogwash,” snorted Little Jane. “Ain’t none of that true.”
“What?” exclaimed Long John, truly stunned. Little Jane had never questioned the veracity of any tale of his before, no matter how outlandish. Perhaps he was losing his touch.
“You heard me. Not true!”
