Love on a Desert Island

I had seen the sails of the ship as she approached and I had made my way through the forest to the headland, the same headland overlooking where the mutineers had been sunk on the rocks that were hidden just below the surface a few hundred yards offshore.

I knew with certainty that this ship would hit those same rocks. They were sharp steep pinnacles that would rip the bottom out of her. I had once swum out there and seen them about six or a little more feet below.

They ripped into the side of the ship, gouging a hole along her length, the water rushed in so fast that it was a matter of seconds before she was gone. I knew that from after the time the mutineers sank, that there would be useful pickings on the beach over the next few days. At first, I thought there were no survivors until I saw someone swimming awkwardly towards me.

I watched from the safety of the trees and saw the woman dragging herself from the water before she collapsed to the sand and lay still. I didn't move a muscle, I kept watching for a sign that there might be others but I saw no one.

She was the first living person that I had seen in years, I was happy with my animal friends on the island, I was scared, I now no longer knew how to communicate with another human being, I had almost forgotten how to talk.

So, I just sat and watched her. It was a long time before she stirred, I saw her struggle to a sitting position and watched as she looked around. I could hear that she was crying as she climbed to stand on unsteady legs. She waded back into the water, shouting out names but only the splash of waves on sand answered her. Then just like me, all those years ago, she sat down and sobbed.

Hesitantly, I approached her from behind, to stand and watch, uncertain of what to do next. Finally, I went closer, I laid a hand on her shoulder, it was the wrong thing for me to have done, she squealed as she jumped with shock before turning to look at me. Her eyes were wide with fright as she took in my appearance. My skin was a deep brown colour, burned in by years of sun. My hair was long and tangled and my clothes were made from animal skins. Two large shining curled tusks hung at my chest, I must have been a strange wild sight to her. It didn't help that I carried a huge bow and a bag of arrows, with a sword hung at my waist.

She cringed away from me as I reached behind my back but I saw her relax slightly when I held my gourd of water out to her. Her eyes never left my face as she drank, when she was finished, I reached a hand to her, after a long pause she lifted hers to mine and I pulled her to her feet.

I beckoned for her to follow, waiting as she looked back to where the ship had sunk, then she turned and followed me.

After a while we arrived at my home, we hadn't spoken a word on the way. I reached for my hidden rope, gave a tug and the rope ladder came tumbling down. I pointed to the ladder and she peered up with a puzzled look on her face, there was nothing to see from the ground, just a ladder disappearing into thick foliage.

I took hold of the ladder and climbed, when I reached the first leaves I looked down and beckoned her again, when I saw her begin to follow me, not without some difficulty, I carried on.

She came up to gaze in awe at what she saw, my house in the trees. She stepped from the ladder, testing the floor with her foot obviously unsure whether or not it was safe. I sat and watched her as she walked around, taking in the furniture, tapping the walls and roof. She stopped to study the haunches of meat that hung, salted and drying.

At the doorway into my bedroom, she suddenly screeched and jumped back as Frederick, one of my furry friends jumped from a box and out of the window before disappearing among the branches. It was an animal somewhat like a large squirrel, although I had not the slightest idea what it actually was but it was my house friendly pet, not exactly tame nor was it totally wild, just somewhere in between, we got along okay.

I went to her, took her hand and led her to the bench. She watched as I struck two rocks together, the spark lighting the bracken in my cooking fireplace. This was a quite large metal dish, shield-shaped, that I had found in the mountains. It was sat on a circle of rocks to prevent the wood below from getting burned.

I swung the pan of water over after I had added wood to the flames. When the water began to boil, I threw in a handful of berries, allowing them to simmer for a while. I handed her one of the mugs I had filled, she sniffed warily at it before taking a sip, a surprised look on her face, it tasted remarkably like coffee although I had no idea what it really was.

Then I heard the first voice spoken to me in so many years, "Do you speak English? Who are you? Where do you come from?"

I struggled to form the words, to say my name. "L-L-Laura." I stammered and then I started to cry, it was the first time that I had cried since I buried my parents near the beach so long ago.

I felt her arms around me, holding me tight as I cried, I clung to her as she whispered in my ear, soothing me until I quietened, "My name's Elizabeth," she told me, " it's okay Laura, I've got you."

"Please tell me what year is it?" I asked her.

"1864, July."

For a minute, I thought, I wasn't used to doing sums anymore, "My God, I've been here eight years then. Do you know the date?"

Elizabeth had to think as she worked out the date, "It's the 21st today, why, is it important?"

"Yes, it's my birthday today, I'm eighteen." Then I started to cry again.

After a while I calmed myself, before haltingly and with long pauses, I began to tell her my story.

...

We were three years in New South Wales (later Australia), where my father had been a Lieutenant Colonel serving with the British Army. I was only seven years of age when we departed from England for him to take up his position, he and my mother were excited at the prospect of the three years accompanied posting to a far away and seemingly exotic place.

Unfortunately, they were sadly disillusioned, it wouldn't be long before they both wished that they had never seen the place. Fever was rife, food was often scarce with very little choice, convicts and settlers were both a constant cause of trouble. All in all, for them, it was like a hell on earth.

For me, it wasn't quite so bad, I was shielded from the worst of what went on and my days were spent at the small English school in Sydney colony. Even so, I think we were all glad when the posting came to an end. Certainly, I was excited at the prospect of being back in England and meeting up with my old friends.

Father had decided, that rather than us taking the traditional route back, via South Africa's Cape of Good Hope, that we would take a ship to Hawaii, spend a few weeks there before travelling on to California, then overland before to then board another ship back to England, the whole thing just sounded so adventurous to me.

The Golden Eagle was a beautiful three-masted schooner with absolutely masses of brilliant white sails. I even had my own cabin, albeit, it was small and cramped what with the bunk, one cupboard and a wash basin but it was mine and I was over the moon.

I didn't much like the Captain, he was very gruff, bordering on downright rude when he even deemed to answer a question from any of the passengers. I could clearly see my father bristling whilst striving to hold his temper. I soon realised that the Captain was more interested in his cargo than he was in a bunch of unwelcome passengers. There were two other families besides my own, ten of us all told.

We hauled our anchor and set sail on a beautiful sunny day, sailors flying all over the rigging and the masts in response to the Captain's orders, sails clapped in a thunderous roar as they were unfurled before catching the wind. By evening we were well clear of the bay and heading in an easterly direction.

During the next two weeks, we called at several islands, I can't remember all their names now but they included, New Caledonia so called by Captain James Cook the famous explorer, he was the first European to land there and he named it after a place in Scotland. Then on to Fiji where I found the local tribesmen quite frightening, it was said that they were cannibals.

The weather was still fine and sunny when we left Fiji, but the Captain was complaining that there was not enough wind to keep the sails filled, he had every possible inch of sail spread but still, we only seemed to be creeping along. Then on the second day, the wind dropped away to nothing and we were completely becalmed. The water was like a glass mirror, not a single ripple disturbed the surface of the sea. A thick mist appeared as if from nowhere, enveloping the ship.

The following day, the Captain had two longboats lowered, long ropes snaking from them to the ship. Each had ten sweating sailors toiling at their oars as they attempted to keep some way on the ship. To me, it seemed quite pointless, as they made hardly any difference to our progress. All day and into the night they rowed, with just an occasional pause to swap crews. The poor weary souls struggled to climb aboard, they were so tired.

In the morning, I overheard father saying to my mother that he felt there was trouble brewing. The crew were not happy with their lot. But the Captain appeared to be oblivious to their plight and simply kept on driving them. He even had one man flogged who had refused to go back in the boats, so bad were the blisters on his hands.

On the fourth day, a gentle breeze began to flap the sails and once more we were moving but still only very slowly. The Captain did not recall the boats, still, the men dipped and pulled at their oars.

It was sometime in the afternoon of day five when I heard the lookout shout "Land Ho, fine to larboard."

My father had overheard one of the officers saying that because of the mist, they had been unable to take a sighting and consequently, they had no idea exactly where we were and they weren't certain what island it might be that the lookout had sighted.

Soon it became evident that there were in fact, a number of very small islands becoming visible, with just one fairly large one.

Meanwhile, the wind had improved to become quite a stiff breeze and I noticed the ship had altered its course and was now heading for the larger of the islands.

As we approached I could see shimmering sands backed by dense forest, it all looked quite stunning. Soon a small bay became evident and the ship's passage was slowed, by half of the sails being taken in. A leadsman was swinging his line at the bows, calling out the depth of water beneath the ship as we entered the entrance of the bay. We didn't go very far in before the anchor was dropped.

I saw barrels being loaded into the boats, For water, my father explained when I asked what they were for. Yet again, the sailors were having to row, I saw several with bleeding hands as they climbed over the side and down into the boats. They didn't look very happy.

Some hours later the boats returned to the ship, a young lieutenant, shouting at the crews as they manhandled the barrels into slings. I'm not sure how it happened but I heard the loud crash followed by screams and shouts. Two barrels had come loose and crashed back down into the boat below. They killed one man and seriously injured another before smashing a huge hole in the bottom of the boat. It sank very fast as the sailors scrambled for safety.

The Captain had two more men tied up for flogging, he blamed them for the loss of a boat, he didn't seem at all concerned for the dead or injured men.

The crew stood in surly silence as the first of the two men were fastened to a grating but a rumble of noise began to swell as the bosun raised his whip. He paused to look at the Captain, "Carry out your duty," the Captain snapped at him. The whip fell, scourging the man's back as he screamed before it fell again and again.

Of course, I didn't actually see any of this, I had been hustled below to my cabin but I could still hear quite clearly what was happening.

Then I heard a pistol shot, the same young Lieutenant from the longboat had fired at three men who had rushed the bosun and grabbed a hold of his whip. I heard the Captain shouting "Cease firing" but it was too late, the crew went berserk, attacking any officer in sight. More shots rang out and men screamed as I could hear feet charging along the deck above me. Then, just as suddenly it went quiet.

I could hear my mother and another woman weeping through the thin wall that divided our cabins. My mother was shouting my father's name before she went, still shouting, up to the deck. I heard her scream his name again, then she was sobbing.

The door to my cabin crashed open and from my hiding place beneath the bunk, I heard someone enter before leaving with a curse. There were more screams from the neighbouring cabins, followed by pistol shots, then the two other wives were dragged away. I was alone as it went quiet below decks.

I crept from my hidey-hole and peaked out of my cabin, nothing moved but I almost screamed out loud at the sight of the two dead men lying in the passageway. It was the husbands of the two women that had been taken away.

I snatched up the large dagger that one was holding, I wasn't exactly sure what I intended doing with it but it seemed to help calm my nerves. I crept quietly along the passageway, ignoring the first ladder that we usually used, I could hear the drunken shouts just above me. When I reached a second ladder, more to the aft of the ship, I slowly stole up, one gentle step at a time. I poked my head over the rim of the hatch and to my relief, there was no one nearby.

I wasn't at all sure what I should do but I knew that I couldn't stay hidden below. I crawled to a cargo hatchway to gingerly peer around the corner. My mother and the two women were tied to masts, their clothes hanging in tatters, my mother was almost naked with her large breasts jiggling about as she struggled.

I almost screamed when I saw my father lying on the deck covered in blood, I was sure he was dead.

There was a strong smell of rum in the air, coming from two barrels that the sailors kept filling their mugs from. I watched as one weaved towards my mother, he offered her a drink from his mug but she spat at him, he slapped her hard across the face and then jammed a hand between her legs while he laughed at her.

Others cheered him on as his hands began to unfasten his breeches. He let them fall to his ankles and his huge penis sprung into view standing out like a canon in front of him. He moved his body forward, his penis pushing between my mother's thighs. I saw hear lean towards him as he pushed but her assailant got a shock when her mouth enclosed his nose, he screamed as she bit the end of his nose off, blood spurting everywhere as he staggered away.

Another man ran at my mother, his fist connecting with her chin. I saw her head drop as she was knocked unconscious. A red rage came over me, I didn't wait to think but I jumped from my hiding place with the dagger in my hand and charged the man who was also now lowering his breeches. Before I reached him, a number of the crew began shouting loudly when they saw me, I clearly heard one, "There be the little wench we bin looking for."

I raised my dagger high as I neared and took a mighty swing down at him. The shouts from his mates made him turn his head towards me, he took a half pace backwards, this causing my downward stab to miss his body, the momentum of my swing carried on down and then his penis was wiggling on the deck, neatly severed by my dagger.

Men were now rushing in a mass to catch me, I swerved aside, stabbing wildly as I ran but there was nowhere to run to. I found myself trapped in the bows as they now cautiously came nearer, several were carrying large wooden belaying pins. In desperation, I searched for an escape but there was none. As the first hand grabbed at me, I stabbed again and then I turned and heaved myself up the railing to then leap into the sea below.

I pushed the dagger inside my blouse and began swimming as hard as I could towards the nearest shore which was perhaps two hundred yards away. I felt myself tiring as I heard the splash of oars behind me and the shouts encouraging the rowers to pull harder.

They were close by the time I felt sand beneath my feet. With a last surge of energy, I forced myself to my feet, wading the last few feet to the beach. As I ran I could hear the shouts getting ever closer, then I felt a hand snatching at my blouse, I twisted away and saw him trip and fall heavily to the sand.

I was now gasping for breath, I thought they would catch me but my luck held, suddenly I was into the trees, curses only feet behind. The thorns tore at my clothing and skin, I was bleeding as I ran into the almost impenetrable barrier. My foot hit something hard and I fell to the ground, immediately I saw my escape, there was a foot or so beneath the thorns and the ground, on hands and knees I scurried forwards. I was rewarded by the receding sounds of their shouts and curses.

I reached a small hollow and rolled myself in where I lay striving to breathe deeply and calm my shattered nerves. I was desperately afraid and wanted to get further away but I had no strength left to move.

For what seemed like hours I lay and cried, still listening to the men as they searched for me. It was getting dark and yet still they were there. I saw a flickering, they had lit a fire on the beach and obviously, they intended staying.

Slowly, I crawled back towards the edge of the trees. I saw another boat had joined the one that had chased me and there was now a large group of sailors sat around the fire. I could smell salted pork roasting on the fire, mixed once more with the tang of rum in the air. I lay and watched, trying to catch what they were discussing.

One, who appeared to be leading the group, called for quiet. I heard him point out that they were now mutineers and murderers, it was time to forget about the girl and get away to somewhere safe. Some argued, that a little longer in searching for the young virgin wouldn't hurt. But eventually, they put it to the vote and decided they would leave in the morning. Once decided, they got down to hearty eating and drinking.

A couple of hours later and they were all asleep, their drunken snores shattering the night. I crept over the sand towards them searching for anything useful that I might find.

The first thing I came across was a pistol complete with powder pouch, quietly I lifted it away from beside its owner. Then I found a sword, large and heavy. There was still a big hank of pork hanging by the dying fire, I cut it away before quickly making my way along the beach, I was looking for a better route inland, a way to avoid the thorns.

It was then that I saw the tracks left by the water gang earlier, so I turned and followed them in the moonlight. They led between huge trees so dense, that very quickly it was too dark for me to see their tracks. I crawled behind one huge tree and sat down. I was starving and thirsty, I chewed at the pork, the stream quenched my thirst.

The early light filtering down through the branches woke me. I sat and listened for an age but heard nothing except for the wind which had risen in the early hours. I followed the footsteps back to the beach, they were gone, the beach was empty, large waves dashed ashore.

I saw the last boat being winched aboard, then I saw bodies being thrown over the side. A short while later, the sails were being unfurled. As the wind took hold, I could see the anchor leaving the water to be pulled aboard, the ship leaned with the wind and then she was moving fast towards the entrance of the bay.