Shanghaied

by K'Anne Meinel

  “You there. What’s yer name?” one of the officers asked, noticing her for the first time.

  “Mel,” she answered, watching as some of the sailors helped the three men up and glancing to see if any of them would resume the fight or if someone else wanted to enter the fray. Several eyed her but didn’t make a move.

  “Mel what?” he asked, obviously annoyed at her for not giving a complete answer.

  “Just Mel,” she answered, peering through the gloom of the evening at the man and wondering at his interest.

  “Well, Just Mel, you watch your back. Those boys ain’t gonna like that you put them down.”

  “What else is new?” Mel murmured as she nodded and headed below decks. She stopped for a moment but not before palming a cleat that had come loose, which she’d intended to work on the next day. She was ready when two of the three men tried to get at her in her hammock, and both ended up with badly bleeding cuts along their hairline where her sock containing the cleat had hit them. The metal had cut neat lines that would have taken out their eyes had she aimed lower.

  Mel learned to sleep lightly as they tried again and again to get at her. She was nearly gutted as a shank, a knife formed from hoarded metals that had been sharpened, was whipped through the air at her gut. She knew that using the knife she had acquired would be acceptable, but strangely, she didn’t want to kill them. She wanted them to be taught a lesson, so that others would hear of it and leave her alone. Knowing that the three were hurting from the punches she had landed, she hit them again and again. She later heard that one of them began to pee blood and the other man threw up blood. She heard it was dark blood, so she knew they had internal injuries. The other men stayed out of the fray, considering it a matter between the four of them. Mel had no real friends and no one to warn her, and she soon grew weary of the constant state of alertness she had to maintain. One of the men disappeared over the rail one night when she was on duty. She had climbed into the crow’s nest, a clear sign the officers now trusted her. As she came down in the early morning, clearly weary from her night awake, two of them rushed her, and she acted instinctively. If the crushed larynx didn’t kill him, the fall into the waters did, and no one noticed his fall with the fog. The other man stared in horror as Mel approached him. He held up his hands in surrender.

  “No more,” she told him, “or I’ll kill you.” She watched as he nodded and backed away, skulking back to his work. Mel looked up and saw that no one had observed the scuffle, so she resumed heading for breakfast, later curling up in her hammock for a few hours’ sleep.

  The third man hadn’t participated in the attacks on her. He’d kept well away from her after the initial fight, and for this Mel was grateful. She just wanted to be left alone. Her size, and the muscles she had developed on this trip, mostly ensured that. The men respected strength, and the officers, while they didn’t like to lose men to fights or killings, ignored them unless it was to command them. A short-staffed ship meant more work for them all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Mel knew they must be near Australia when the ship swung wide to avoid the reef they were calling The Great Barrier. A reef could crush the wood on a ship and leave a gaping hole that would quickly sink them. They were in the Tasman Sea when the thugs that carried out some of the officers’ more disreputable commands began to gather the men who had been shanghaied in China. Mel made herself scarce. Sure enough, the men who had survived their enforced slavery from San Francisco were rounded up too. Strangely, the men didn’t look for her, and she wondered at that. The others were herded into the brig and locked up, so they wouldn’t desert the ship or cause a commotion that might draw attention. She knew from experience the wood was thick and muffled the sounds. Mel wondered how many more men would be snatched once they put into port.

  Mel knew that men would be all over the ship as they came into port, readying it so they could offload cargo before taking on more. She had to keep herself hidden, and she didn’t know how long she could manage that. If they realized she was free, she was certain they would lock her up with the others so recently taken.

  After months on this ship, she knew the location of a lot of the cargo in the hold and where there were spaces to hide. She kept to the shadows and resituated herself as men moved about doing their duties. She couldn’t afford to be discovered, not now, not when they were so close to a major port. She’d looked around for months and found no escape hatch from the cargo hold that she could use to get discreetly on deck. She’d have to go back to the steps that led to the area used by the sailors and then take the passage that went back to the galley. On the steps above the galley was the quarterdeck where the officers and captain had their quarters. She needed to get topside unobserved and make it look like she belonged there, so she could ascertain how close they were to the port. She would wait until dark. She knew that it might take weeks for them to get a berth at a dock and many of the ships would use porters to take their cargo ashore and bring more out to their ship. She wasn’t certain how close to Sydney they were, but she had heard that the harbor was huge. That wasn’t much information to go on but that was all she had…that and hope.

  She listened to the sounds as the men worked, hoping to catch snatches of conversation here and there that would tell her exactly where they were and how late in the day it was. She knew they needed to go by the Heads, so named for the headlands that signaled the entrance to the immense harbor. She tried to remember what she had read about Australia and Sydney but so little was known, and she certainly never expected to come here. There were other islands too, and she worried about them. She couldn’t afford to be recaptured, and she surely would be if she managed to get off the ship and swim to an island. She overheard someone mention Port Jackson, which she knew was the original port for Sydney before it became a colony. She couldn’t tell if the person who said it was just saying they saw it or if they were there. She was getting frustrated, but she could tell by the motion of the ship that they must be slowing. The water sounds against the hull weren’t as loud either.

  Now, she must plan how to get off the ship and swim to land. She wondered about sharks as this large port opened out to the open sea.

  She listened to the men working above her as they brought down the sails and stowed them, leaving some up to keep their forward momentum. She remembered one of the new men asking how someone stopped a ship. She’d laughed with the other sailors about that one. Unlike a wagon, there were no brakes on a ship.

  The entrance to Sydney Harbor contained a series of headlands that formed its over one-mile-wide entrance. Mel’s ship passed by North Head and Quarantine Head. Had they missed the harbor entrance they would have seen South Head and Dunbar Head. Once in the large harbor, they saw Middle, Georges, and Chowder Head.

  The captain chose to weigh anchor well short of the port. They were far enough out that they didn’t get in the way of shipping but close enough that they could arrange porters for their cargo, unless they got lucky enough to arrange a berth in this busy harbor. Mel heard the chains of the anchors begin moving after the shouted commands of the captain, which were repeated by his officers. It gave her hope, even though she had no idea where she was in relation to land. She heard the cheers of the sailors, which obviously meant they had arrived after their long voyage.

  Mel snuck out of the cargo area, neatly missing a couple of the men, who were taking advantage of the opportunity to sneak back to their hammocks. She briefly considered visiting the galley to steal some food but decided it wasn’t worth the danger of being discovered. She narrowly missed being discovered as two of the officers came down the steps, deep in discussion about the whores they intended to visit in Sydney. Mel understood that. She had become horny more than once on this long voyage. She could imagine there were many sailors up in the rigging and furling the sails, who were anticipating their time ashore.

  Mel hid herself near the steps but in the shadows, so she could listen and watch for nightfall. Once the d
arkness arrived, and the men settled down for the night—going to their hammocks and bunks or going ashore if they were trusted—she allowed herself to come out of hiding. Stealthily, she climbed the stairs and darted into the shadow of the capstan, a large round piece of equipment they used to wind a heavy rope around. It was wasn’t very bulky now due to the wide rope no longer being wound about its girth. She didn’t care, so long as it hid her size well as she waited for someone to pass. She glanced up at the bridge to see if anyone could see her. They were looking out to sea, and she used the opportunity to dart to the bulwark, the side of the ship above the deck. She got down on her hands and knees to stay in its shadow and move forward to the fo’c’sle or forecastle of the ship. She needed to get to the front as there were too many men at the back. She didn’t care what they were watching or discussing. Adroitly, she avoided the rigging, ropes that were used for supporting the sails on the masts, which lay neatly about. She had a few close calls where she could have reached out and tripped a man as he walked along the deck, but she resisted and held her breath, staying to the shadows cast by the bulwark. She breathed a sigh of relief when she attained the prow of the ship. She glanced back, but it was too dark to see the other end of the ship and ascertain if anyone was watching.

  She wasn’t sure what to do at that point. She couldn’t just dive in as the splash would be heard, and they’d capture her and torture her for escaping. There were many of them and only one of her. She saw where some of the men were lighting lanterns to keep watch and outline the ship to others that might be traveling into port. She realized they would be temporarily blinded by the light and waited until she saw someone light another light before slipping off the port side of the ship, the left as she knew it. Her bare feet touched the anchor chain which was dry above the waterline. Her immense strength kept her from falling off this large chain as she slowly inched her way down. When she touched water, the chain below the waterline instantly became slimy, and her foot slipped, making some noise in the water. She froze, hoping no one had heard it. She didn’t dare move until she was certain she hadn’t been heard. She looked around and could make out a lot of lights, which she realized could only be a town. They looked to be very far away. She wondered if they were closer on the other side of the ship, the starboard side, and wondered if she dared look? She couldn’t see anyone on the ship, and the high sides looked huge in the darkness. She decided to swim for the left side where she could better see the many lights.

  Slowly, she bobbed in the water away from the prison ship, seeing other ships in the waters and avoiding them. She could see what looked like platforms and smaller boats with lanterns as men plied trades, offering rides, cargo transport, and the like. She wished she could trust one of them to give her a lift. She didn’t know how far away she was from those lights on the land, and from this angle in the water they seemed farther away than ever. She also had to swim around other ships that were anchored in the water, trying to swim as silently as possible, which increased the length of her swim to shore. She remembered her father teaching her to swim on their farm back in Virginia. In those days, she’d had to wear a dress, which made it much more difficult to swim with its skirt swirling about, but she had managed. Now, she was very conscious of the little clothing she was wearing and the two rolls of coins between her legs. The coins were heavy but not so heavy that they dragged her down or impeded her swimming. The water was cold and sapping her strength more rapidly than she realized as she made her way. She stopped to tread water and look at the lights of the town, but they seemed as far away as ever. She had forgotten about the tide. What a poor sailor that made her.

  The anger she felt for having forgotten about the tide led to anger about being shanghaied and forced to work for men who didn’t care about her, her life, or what she had left behind. That anger stayed with her, driving her to keep swimming. She finally came in far beyond where she had planned, and as she came closer to the land, the current pulled her along the shore. She panted as she finally dragged herself up on the rocks. Land. She was finally on land! It had been many, many months since she had been on actual land. She cut herself as she pulled herself up on the rocks to rest. She was cold, and her clothing was wet, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t tell in the darkness where her prison boat was. From here it was just one of the many lights in the harbor, but she hid herself as best she could in the rocks and heaved a huge sigh of relief. She had escaped! She was alive!

  ~THE END~

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  If you have enjoyed SHANGHAIED, I hope you will enjoy this excerpt from

  PIRATED LOVE

  Lady Claire Von Hagen was en route to the island of Baleniesia, in the Caribbean, to meet the man her father had dictated she would marry. Lord Von Hagen, Governor of Baleniesia, ruled his island and his daughter with an iron fist, and he had determined that marriage to the distasteful, but wealthy and titled, Sir Edmund Fitzhugh, would be most advantageous. Lady Claire was sailing to Baleniesia to submit to marriage when her ship was captured by pirates. Her abductor, a pirate Captain known as Black Betty, had other plans for Lady Claire.

  Claire had never experienced love of any kind, and she had certainly never conceived of the things that went on between two women. Black Betty taught her things that surprised her, and the freedom she experiences with this woman, and their developing love, capture Claire’s heart. From the islands of the Caribbean to the shores of Canada, and on from there to the continent of Africa and the Orient… together they experience things both had only dreamt about.

  Will they survive the dangers of the high seas and the first years of a relationship that neither expected to find?

  CHAPTER ONE

  eeee

  Claire looked out over the endless sea. It was a pretty, deep blue-green shade which she was told was due to the unique waters of the Caribbean. As the islands they were approaching came closer, the depths would make it appear even more blue, more beautiful; many different shades of blue and green. She enjoyed the view, but not the indicators that told her she would be arriving at their destination soon. They were making for the island of Baleniesia, a small unimportant island ruled by an autocratic governor for His Majesty, the king. The governor also happened to be her father. When she reached the island she had two days to prepare for her wedding. She glanced at the man that was to be her husband and shuddered at the thought.

  Sir Edmond could have been a kind man, but nature had not been kind to him. He was still afflicted with facial sores that most would have outgrown after their teens. He attempted to hide these ruptures with a beard that had never fully developed and as a result looked thin and scraggly with prominent bald spots interspersed with the sores. Ingrown hairs caused some of these sores that further made his appearance disgusting. His morose picking at the scabs did not help any, causing oils from his hands to enter the sores and cause more pus-filled ruptures. A flushed complexion, made worse from the sunburn he was sporting, did not enhance his looks in any way. Dark brown, almost black hair stood out from his scalp, chins, and cheeks. His overly-large nose was
red and veins were broken over it from drinking. His eyebrows brushed over his eyes-his only good feature. They were a twinkling brown that frequently ogled his fiancée, much to her disgust and dismay. Sir Edmond was not tall, slightly under average. He was shorter than his bride, but as he never looked her in the eye it really did not matter. Frequently, she found him looking straight down her stylishly-cut gowns, licking his lips in anticipation of their wedding night. He was constantly assuring her that she would enjoy his amorous charms. He tried frequently to discuss his past conquests with her, hoping to impress her with his well-endowed pursuits, but Claire always pleaded for her innocent ears to hear no such salacious comments. Instead of putting him off, this seemed to increase his ardor; he appeared to thrill at the thought of being Claire’s first and only lover. She shivered at the thought of his sweaty hands on her body.

  She quickly looked away in disgust. The prideful peacock had no idea that women found him repulsive. He seemed to think very highly of himself. He believed he was charming, rich, and handsome, despite the obvious acne on his thirty-year-old face. When she had been introduced to him by her father’s London solicitor, she had frozen in the act of welcoming the man her father had written about, assuring her he was a good catch. His overly-familiar nature had disgusted her beyond his physical appearance. He quickly assured her that he would master her and show her the ways of pleasuring him. At every opportunity he groped, fondled, caressed, or pinched her body. As a result, she sported many bruises and red marks on her young, white body. She avoided him whenever she could, but being on a slow ship for the last six weeks meant she had very few places to hide. She could not always stay in her cabin. He had accosted her there once, but she had learned to keep the door locked at all times. She had taken a sudden interest in the management of the ship and to the delight of the captain and his officers had been a welcome listener to their stories, knowledge, and skills. This kept her fiancé at bay. He had no interest in the running of the ship, considering it far beneath his lofty self, but he could not interrupt the captain or his officers when they were chatting with her. He did, however, let her know he did not appreciate her talking with these men he felt were his inferiors. Unfortunately, the captain and his men were not much better in character than her fiancé, they interpreted her interest in the ship to be an interest in them as well. She had another week of fending them off before they might take liberties. Only the fact that Sir Edward was marrying the daughter of the Governor of Baleniesia kept them from doing something that would get them drawn and quartered.