Read Online Curse of the Blue Tattoo: Being an Account of the Misadventures of Jacky Faber, Midshipman and Fine Lady by L. A. Meyer - Free Book Online

pass 'em on to me. Wouldn't be
seemly.
    So what I've decided is that I'll save up everything and when a British man-of-war comes into port and is bound back to England, I'll put together a packet and then go down and ask them to take it for me, and I'm sure they will do it. At the same time I'll figure out an address he can send stuff to me. I'll ask Amy, later. She might know the way of it.

    "Amy," I says, as we head for the music room, "what is this bit with Clarissa calling me a Tory? I don't know what to say
when she calls me that. Where I come from, Tories are just part of a political party. That can't be what she means."
    "That is not what she means. Here 'Tory' refers to an American who remained loyal to King George before and during the Revolution. Clarissa is calling you a turncoat, a traitor."
    "Now, how can I be that when I'm born English and can't help it?" I exclaims all baffled.
    "We were all English twenty-five years ago. Emotions still run high, especially in light of the recent troubles with Great Britain."
    "Troubles like what?"
    "Impressment of seamen, for one. The stopping of American ships on the high seas and the taking of seamen to fight for the crown. Mostly British sailors, but sometimes our own. And there's the British agents out west stirring up Tecumseh and his Indians to kill our settlers on the frontier."
    "Oh," says I.
    We enter the music room. My classmates arrange themselves in two circular lines facing a podium in the center, and at the podium is a round little man who is leafing through a stack of papers.
    Amy takes me up to him and says, "Maestro, this is Miss Faber. She is new. Miss Faber, this is Maestro Fracelli."
    I do the curtsy and then stand there as Amy takes her place in the second rank. I know that is an assigned place 'cause she's standing right next to Clarissa and I know she'd never stand there on her own.
    Maestro Fracelli is done with his papers and turns to me and says, "Sing something, please, so that I may place you."
    Place me?
    I think quick and pick one that might show my range and not scandalize em too much, and I straighten out my shoulders and I lift my head and sings out:
"
Oh, hard is the fortune

Of all womankind.

She's always controlled,

She's always confined.

Controlled by her parents,

Until she's a wife,

A slave to her husband,

The rest of her life.
"
    There is a dead silence. Maestro clears his throat and says, "Very nice. A curious choice of material, but delivered
con brio.
I think I will place you with the altos on the left." He picks up a folder and hands it to me. "Please sing the first stanza of this."
    I look at it and my heart sinks. At the top of the paper is written "
Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring,
" and underneath that is a bunch of lines with little black bugs and squiggles on em and I ain't got the foggiest idea of what they mean and I shakes me head and me throat starts to tighten up and me eyes start to fill and I'm startin' to shake all over 'cause once again I'm found wantin' in
every
class and I'm so backward in
everything
here and I don't want them to see me cry, but two days of being the dummy is just too much and I'm losing control of everything and I'm about to run up and get my seabag and run off down to the docks and ... me mind hears Amy say, "Pardon, Maestro, a moment, please," and she puts her arm around me and she hustles me out into the hall.
    She takes me by the shoulders and says, "It's not so hard. I will teach you. You do not have to already know everything. Now, go back in there and stand where he tells you and just hum along for a while until you get it. He is a really nice man and he will help you. Now, just do it."
    I'm still shakin' and cryin' and about to dissolve into a puddle on the floor.
Music! The thing I love the most and still I'm the fool and I was stupid enough to think I would stand out in this 'cause I thought I was good at it and I ain't I ain't I ain't good at nothin...
    "Here. Dry your eyes. Put on the