Chapter 3: Sisters Under the Skin

In the seventeen days it took Hermes to sail from Aden to Madras Mimi and I got to know Captain Hands quite well. He was an easy man to like, with an infectious laugh, a quick wit, and a collection of yarns that if only half were true indicated he had led an eventful life. We also got to know the owner of the green silk chemise, a Mrs. Caitlin Parker, a member of the fishing fleet and a widow of some thirty-five years of age. There were never many widows in a fishing fleet, as Israel Hands rejected females with children, which indicated Caitlin – named for her Irish grandmother – was childless. She could not be described as beautiful or even pretty, but there was certain attractiveness about her. She had long, glossy, dark brown hair, brilliant blue eyes, a wide generous mouth, an all-embracing smile, and one of the finest bosoms I have ever encountered. When first introduced to her I had great difficulty keeping my eyes on her face and not have them straying off to view her other prominent attributes. Mimi’s sharp elbow in my ribs soon broke me of the habit, and after a week I was able to conduct a conversation with Caitlin and never once focus my eyes on her breasts.

Although not the eldest of the fishing fleet, being a widow Mrs. Parker was considered to be the most experienced among the group, and the other females tended to look to her for guidance when it came to matters pertaining to men. She and Mimi got on well together; in fact, Mimi was friendly with most of the members of the fishing fleet. It was good to see her laughing and chatting with the other girls, Mimi had been isolated from normal European women for a quite a spell. Yes, I know she had been in the company of Chastity and Georgina Crudwright, but one could hardly call them ‘normal’.

A few days after the discovery of the chemise, and Caitlin Parker’s closeness to Captain Hands, he and I were standing on the quarterdeck behind the helmsman as Hermes continued to thrash her way eastwards.

“Did you ever find out how the pregnant girl left in Cape Town fared, Robin?” My tone of voice must have been sharper than intended, and he reacted with some heat.

“I know you think I acted dishonourably, Jack, but what would you have done in my place?” He did not give me time to reply – which was just as well as I had no answer to his question – and continued. “The girl would have been showing by the time we reached Calcutta, and no man, however keen for advancement, would marry a pregnant woman. She would have had to return to England and be left on the dockside at Southampton, with no money, no family, and a bastard. Any one of them is a trigger for suicide and Constance had all three. Instead, I put her ashore in Cape Town with money enough to either abort the child or pay for a midwife. I contacted a woman there who I knew dealt with abandoned girls. Madam Joyeux would keep an eye on her, and find her employment when...”

“Madam Joyeux being a brothel keeper,” I said, and it was not question.

“Madam Joyeux is the proprietor of an exclusive house of assignation, known as ‘The House of Joy, which is a play on words as Madam Joyeux’s real name is Joy Arden.”

“Joy Arden being a brothel owner,” I said, not a question but a statement.

Robin gave a sigh, part exasperation and part resignation. “Yes, if you want to be brutally honest. After aborting the child – by the simple expedient of downing a bottle of gin while sitting in a hot bath – Constance began working at the House of Joy. She became the most popular girl in the establishment and made a pile of money before retiring four years ago and going to the Americas. I suspect she has set up her own bordello in New Orleans or some equally debauched town, and probably calls it The Constant Plugging.” He laughed at his own joke, but I did not join him. “Constance made the best of a bad job. I have no remorse for what I did, and in fact it was the start of a lucrative business association between myself and Joy, Madam Joyeux. Constance Munny was the first fishing fleet member to find employment with Madam Joyeux in Cape Town, but she was not the last. Indeed those two who jumped...” Captain Hands abruptly bellowed at the helmsman. “You’re five points off course, you blind bugger. Get us back on the proper heading else we will end up in Colombo instead of Madras. And you will be supping on bread and water in the brig instead of feeding on hairy pie in the cordage storeroom!”

The helmsman gave a sheepish, “Aye, aye, Captain,” and spun the wheel to larboard. Hands watched the compass needle swing until pointing to the correct bearing. “Keep on this heading, Carlton, and keep your mind on the steering and not on what lies between Juliet’s thighs.”

The helmsman acknowledged with a furious blush on his cheeks and another ‘Aye aye.’

“Young Carlton Starflett,” he indicated the helmsman, “has been experiencing Juliet’s delicious wares, and cannot think of anything other than his next assignation under her balcony.”

“Juliet?”

“Miss Juliet Anderson, she of the...”

“The former governess? But she appears so aloof and severe.” I could hear the surprise in my voce

“Juliet is like Mount Etna on the Isle of Sicily. Snow on top, but a volcano beneath. She is a passionate woman when aroused...”

“Do you speak from experience, Robin?”

“Indeed I do, Jack. It was a difficult decision to make when we left Southampton as to which female I would invite to share my cabin during the voyage. Of the assembled fishing fleet Juliet and Caitlin appealed to me the most. I had a trial with both women, one at a time I hasten to add, and Caitlin came out on top.” He gave a wicked grin. “Actually, it was Juliet who came on top in the physical sense. She has to be the dominating partner in a relationship. Some men can handle that sort of behaviour but I like to be the one in control, which Caitlin allows me to be. And after the frenzy of the first bout of fornication Caitlin is a gentle, considerate and comfortable bed companion. Juliet is unquenchable; the volcano never sleeps, and she has worn out most of the crew. Carlton Starflett is more than ten years younger than Juliet but even his vigour is being eroded. There is only one member of the crew who hasn’t yet been between her thighs and that is the ship’s cook, Haig Pawthorn. He is a damn fine cook, even if a little different...”

“How different?” I was concerned to be eating food prepared by someone thought to be ‘different’.

“Most sea cooks are large, bellicose, men, who shout and curse a lot. Haig is a slender, diminutive sort of fellow, who speaks softly and seldom. He does not smoke a pipe, chew tobacco, drink alcohol, curse, blaspheme, spit, fart, or belch, and I have yet to see him scratching his nugs, which as you know all males do frequently.”

I surreptitiously moved my hand from where it had been, nodded my agreement at Robin’s words, and hoped he had not noticed where I had been scratching.

“Is it possible your cook is a Mollie, Robin?”

“I have considered the possibility, but apart from his way of walking and talking he shows no other signs. None of the crew have reported overtures from him. He might be like them men what never have the urge to plug a woman, or a man. What is it they call ‘em?”

“I think the word you are looking for is ‘asexual’, Robin.”

“That could be it. No matter, whatever else he may be Haig is certainly the best cook I have ever shipped with.”

“Perhaps Haig will be too busy cooking to sample Miss Anderson’s wares, and she will come to you, for old times’ sake,” I said, pulling his leg I must admit.

Robin’s face paled at the thought. “Heaven forbid.” He then grinned. “Cai would stop her in her tracks.”

“Kay?”

“My special name for Caitlin,” he said, a bashful expression upon his face.

It then struck me that Robin Hands and Caitlin – Kay– Parker were more than merely bed companions, and I wondered if she would disembark at Madras to find a husband or return to England with Robin.

That night in bed, after a slow, drawn out, but supremely successful conclusion of making the beast with two backs, I told Mimi how surprised I was that Miss Juliet Anderson, a former governess no less, was such a man eater.