ship left Liverpool.
He
was a rugged, roughhewn lad with a merry smile and flashing blue eyes. Brawny,
illiterate, he had spotted me the first time I slipped up the stairs to catch a
breath of fresh air. He didn't turn me in. Instead, he led me past barrels of
tar and showed me this small area where I could take fresh air without being
discovered. I was exceedingly grateful. One of the other women had come up on deck
only the day before. She had been caught, had been tied to a mast and brutally
whipped as an "example." I had been willing to risk that, and young
Jack had admired my courage.
Naturally
he expected to be paid, I paid. His lovemaking was rough and energetic, yet
there was a surprising tenderness, as well. Afterwards he would hold me in his
arms, stroking my breasts, stroking my hair, as though I were some precious
object he had miraculously been given to relieve the tedium and rigorous
hardships of the voyage. I gave willingly, and I was not ashamed of it. This
crude, muscular sailor with his gruff voice and amiable grin showed me that
lovemaking could be wildly elating, could be satisfying to a woman as well as a
man. I enjoyed it, and I was grateful as well. After the treatment I had
received from Lord Mallory and the two thief-takers, I might well have
nourished some terrible fear about the act of love, might have connected it in
my mind with disgust and loathing, had it not been for Jack and his healthy,
robust attitude. He taught me a great deal. He also enabled me to survive the
voyage.
Not
all of us did. One of the women went insane and ran screaming up the stairs to
hurl herself over the railing. Almost everyone was sick from scurvy. Two of the
women died from it, teeth and hair falling out. The brawling, bickering group
of female prisoners who boarded the ship at Liverpool were soon turned into a
lethargic, dispirited lot who huddled on their narrow bunks like zombies,
patiently enduring the filth, the abuse of our "keepers," the
wretched, skimpily doled-out food and the horribly fetid air. The male
prisoners who were kept down in the hull on the other side of the ship fared no
better. There were beatings every day with the cat-o'-nine-tails, horror and
humiliation a way of life for all prisoners.
Jack
saved me from that. Not only did he provide me with a haven on deck, he also
had a "talk" with the three brutal guards whose duty it was to watch
over the female prisoners. Hands on hips, a lopsided grin on his face, he
casually informed them that he had a "special interest in th'
redhead" and added that any man who touched me he'd choke to death with
his bare hands and then toss overboard without a second thought. Since he was
well over six feet tall, with a bronzed, muscular body, he was formidable
indeed. The guards left me alone. Surly, sadistic, they took great delight in
abusing others, but I never tasted the lash, never had to endure the rutting,
grunting sexual assaults that were nightly occurrences for the other women.
Jack
also brought me food—beef, ale, decent bread, cheese, lemons and limes to
prevent the dreadful scurvy. I knew he was running a great risk, but he seemed
to enjoy defying his superiors and putting something over on "th' bloody
sods." Jack was a dandy fellow, popular with all his fellow sailors. They
knew about me, of course. There was no way they could help knowing, but while
they might envy Jack and make coarse jokes about his "private piece of
tail," they helped him keep it from the ship's officers. Had any of the
officers discovered his little escapade, Jack could have received fifty lashes,
could even have been hanged for associating with one of the prisoners. This
danger merely added another fillip of excitement as far as Jack was concerned.
He considered it all a jolly lark.
The
stars were fading and dawn was about to break that last time we were together.
He had made a nest of blankets under one of the lifeboats, and he held me
loosely in his arms, idly caressing my
He
was a rugged, roughhewn lad with a merry smile and flashing blue eyes. Brawny,
illiterate, he had spotted me the first time I slipped up the stairs to catch a
breath of fresh air. He didn't turn me in. Instead, he led me past barrels of
tar and showed me this small area where I could take fresh air without being
discovered. I was exceedingly grateful. One of the other women had come up on deck
only the day before. She had been caught, had been tied to a mast and brutally
whipped as an "example." I had been willing to risk that, and young
Jack had admired my courage.
Naturally
he expected to be paid, I paid. His lovemaking was rough and energetic, yet
there was a surprising tenderness, as well. Afterwards he would hold me in his
arms, stroking my breasts, stroking my hair, as though I were some precious
object he had miraculously been given to relieve the tedium and rigorous
hardships of the voyage. I gave willingly, and I was not ashamed of it. This
crude, muscular sailor with his gruff voice and amiable grin showed me that
lovemaking could be wildly elating, could be satisfying to a woman as well as a
man. I enjoyed it, and I was grateful as well. After the treatment I had
received from Lord Mallory and the two thief-takers, I might well have
nourished some terrible fear about the act of love, might have connected it in
my mind with disgust and loathing, had it not been for Jack and his healthy,
robust attitude. He taught me a great deal. He also enabled me to survive the
voyage.
Not
all of us did. One of the women went insane and ran screaming up the stairs to
hurl herself over the railing. Almost everyone was sick from scurvy. Two of the
women died from it, teeth and hair falling out. The brawling, bickering group
of female prisoners who boarded the ship at Liverpool were soon turned into a
lethargic, dispirited lot who huddled on their narrow bunks like zombies,
patiently enduring the filth, the abuse of our "keepers," the
wretched, skimpily doled-out food and the horribly fetid air. The male
prisoners who were kept down in the hull on the other side of the ship fared no
better. There were beatings every day with the cat-o'-nine-tails, horror and
humiliation a way of life for all prisoners.
Jack
saved me from that. Not only did he provide me with a haven on deck, he also
had a "talk" with the three brutal guards whose duty it was to watch
over the female prisoners. Hands on hips, a lopsided grin on his face, he
casually informed them that he had a "special interest in th'
redhead" and added that any man who touched me he'd choke to death with
his bare hands and then toss overboard without a second thought. Since he was
well over six feet tall, with a bronzed, muscular body, he was formidable
indeed. The guards left me alone. Surly, sadistic, they took great delight in
abusing others, but I never tasted the lash, never had to endure the rutting,
grunting sexual assaults that were nightly occurrences for the other women.
Jack
also brought me food—beef, ale, decent bread, cheese, lemons and limes to
prevent the dreadful scurvy. I knew he was running a great risk, but he seemed
to enjoy defying his superiors and putting something over on "th' bloody
sods." Jack was a dandy fellow, popular with all his fellow sailors. They
knew about me, of course. There was no way they could help knowing, but while
they might envy Jack and make coarse jokes about his "private piece of
tail," they helped him keep it from the ship's officers. Had any of the
officers discovered his little escapade, Jack could have received fifty lashes,
could even have been hanged for associating with one of the prisoners. This
danger merely added another fillip of excitement as far as Jack was concerned.
He considered it all a jolly lark.
The
stars were fading and dawn was about to break that last time we were together.
He had made a nest of blankets under one of the lifeboats, and he held me
loosely in his arms, idly caressing my
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