Neither have I, thinks I, and I can't wait to get ashore. But not for oranges. We fidget and wait.
I know the men are anxious as well. They've been in a state of high hilarity the whole time since we set course for this place. They were barely able to contain themselves during the last Church we had, with the Deacon warning about loose women and vile vessels and evil seductresses and such, and working himself up into a fine froth. I don't think it made much of an impression on the men, though, for all that.
The Professor put his two pence in with the words for yesterday being debauchery, dissipation, and wantonness. I've a feeling that me and my sisters do not have a high standing in the worlds of religion and learning.
Finally, the Admiral and his toadies come back, considerably cheered and red-faced from their fine luncheon, salutes and bows all around, and they leave.
We are dismissed.
We ship's boys don't ask permission to go ashore, 'cause we know they'd just say no, so we pile into the first boat going ashore and keep our heads down under the gunwales. Nobody notices us in all the excitement, anyway.
Soon we're rolling up the street, bold as brass, the solid ground strange under our feet, salty sea sailors looking for food and drink and fun ... and a tattooist. We go past several taverns, which are already filling up with sailors tossing their money on the bar and bellowing for ale and food and music and dancing and dollymops to dance with.
Yesterday we boys got in the Purser's line and two shillings, five pence were put in our outstretched hands, against our part of the prize money. Rich beyond our wildest dreams! Someone in the line behind me said, "Bloody Jack should get a double share for savin' the gold," but I didn't like that and I hurried away.
We ask at one of the taverns and are told there's a good tattooist called Roderigo on up the street and to look for the sign with the needle in the hand. I'm not liking this one bit, but I know when I'm trapped and will have to make the best of it.
On the way there we pass a brothel and one of the women leans out the window, showing a large expanse of white powdered chest, and says, "Oh, look at the pretty little sailor boys. They're all dressed alike. Oh, come look, Seraphina!" Another woman appears and coos over us and asks us in. She pouts when we push on. Jaimy's face is brick red.
We spot the tattooist's sign, and then the tattooist. Roderigo is sitting on a stool in front of his shop, wearing no shirt, and pants that only come down to his knees. Every inch of his skin that he could reach with his needle is covered with tattoos. The walls of the tiny shop are decorated with drawings of the tattoos that he does. We shyly sidle up.
Roderigo eyes us hungrily.
"You come to Roderigo for the tattoo, eh? You come to the right place. I am the Master. I am known from Bristol to Borneo, from Canada to Timbuktu. I trust no one with my own skin but me. You should trust no other with your skin, too. Guaranteed, my young friends, no mistakes, no fading, no infection. What will you have from the skill of Roderigo?"
Roderigo has a tattoo of a dreadful snake with dripping fangs coming out of the waistband of his trousers and curling over his hairy belly and Tink is of the opinion that it would be just the thing and I about faint dead away, but it costs too much and we decide we have to have something more nauticallike, anyway. We finally settle on a small anchor with a little rope around it and HMS Dolphin underneath in small letters. This is only two pence, and so within our means.
Then we lay to deciding where the tattoo is to be and Davy says, "On the back of the hand, of course," but Jaimy says that he is going to be an officer and officers aren't allowed to have tattoos, not ones that show, anyway, but Davy says that Jaimy can have his wherever he wants it—on his nose for all he cares—but he's going to have his on the back of his hand, by God, by Neptune, and by all the heathen gods, so there.
I can see this is going nowhere and pipes up that all the tattoos got to be in the same place on each of us or it ain't a Brotherhood thing, and it's got to be hidden and secret from everyone 'cept us so's we can swear secret oaths on our tattoos and reveal them only to each other when we're down in dungeons and stuff and hideously disfigured so we couldn't be recognized any other way, and it makes sense to them and we decide on the right hipbone up front just before it meets the belly.
Before they can change their minds I go up to Roderigo and jam the two pence in his fist and pull down the top of my pants a few inches to expose my hipbone and say, "Put it there."
Roderigo pockets the coins and takes out a needle and a bottle of ink and sets to. It hurts like hell, but I've been hurt worse. He makes a few jabs with the needle and then dabs the bloody dots with the ink. Soon the dark blue anchor starts to appear. Even though I'm biting my lip, I have to admire his skill and speed. In fifteen minutes he's done.
"Don't wash it for a while," he says, turning next to Davy, who ain't acting all so brave now that he's seen me get the needle. As all eyes are on Davy, I slip away unnoticed and go back to the brothel we saw on the way up the street, 'cause now I know there's a woman there who speaks English.
She says her name is Mrs. Roundtree and ain't I a little young for this sort of thing, but she leads on into a little room and I follows the cloud of perfume that follows her and says, "No, Ma'am, I just want to talk," and she looks at me funnylike and sits down on the bed.
"Sit down, then, lad. It'll still cost ye a shillin'."
"Yes, Ma'am," I say, and pull out one of my shillings and give it to her. I sit down in a chair with a frilly thing around it and begin. "I've got this friend and she's a girl and she's got somethin' wrong with her and she don't know who to—"
Mrs. Roundtree gets up and comes over to me, pulls me to my feet, and gives me a few pokes here and there and then grins.
"Well, now, Miss, shall we have some tea? We've got a lot of ground to cover."
I come back out into the bright light of the day having got me an education for sure. I find I ain't dying, which is a great relief to me, and I find out about all the other things, like the way of a man with a maid, and babies and how they're made and born. All pretty disgustin' stuff, but maybe with someone you really loved, well, maybe not so disgustin'.
As I step out of the doorway, I loosen my pants and look down at my tattoo, which is startin' to hurt some, and I see that it's swollen a bit, but Roderigo had said that was to be expected and so I pull my pants back up again and am tying the drawstring just as the boys and some of the Dolphin seamen come around the corner so it looks to them like I'm just pullin' up me pants. They hoot and holler and point and make crude jokes and say, "How was it then, Jack?" I blush all red in the face and say that I was just asking for directions and they could each of 'em sod off with their filthy minds. I see Jaimy lookin' at me funny, but what the hell, I think, it helps The Deception.
The boys finally let up on me and get to raggin' on poor Willy who had fainted dead away the first time the needle touched him and spent the whole tattooing time dead to the world. "Which is awright wi' me," says Willy, calm as the ox he seems to be growing into.
We all get in a tight circle, right hipbones in, and compare our fine new tattoos and congratulate each other on our choice of tattoos and our bravery in getting them done. Whether or not my future husband will compliment me on my finely decorated patch of skin is to be seen, but he'll have to deal with it in any case.