History and Fiction (1) - or how it might have been


by Jamie <woodthorne@csi.com>

This is the first part of a long story I wrote some years ago when I was doing post grad studies in Australian History. It requires a lot of work to reproduce from the original typed text but I am happy to do so if people want to read on. Jamie

1. An account of the events which led me to the Colonies

July 1844:

It was early evening by the time they came to collect me from my cold, dank cell. All about me the clanking of chains and leg irons taunted my senses and sent shivers down my spine. Since having been apprehended by the naval patrol, I had had nothing to eat, very little sleep or even rest and was in a somewhat disagreeable move as the time for my return approached.

I had escaped from the ship, a British Navy man-of-war, during the change of watch nearly a day before. I had crept from my station and slipped down the rope ladder to the barge which was along side provisioning the ship. I had been in the Royal Navy for all of one week and I detested it.

Taken from the pleasant countryside following the death of my father, I was, at the tender age of 17, something of an inconvenience to my guardian. It was his idea to have me enlisted as a rating despite the high station to which I had been born and he used whatever contacts with the Admiralty he could to ensure that my unwanted presence should be terminated as quickly as possible.

Thus, stripped of my fine clothes and dressed in the coarsest material I had ever known, I had been take to HMS Achilles for training as a seaman.

I had never dreamt of leaving the countryside and going to sea as some of the youths in our village had and I was not the least prepared for the chaos, coldness and impersonal environment into which I was thrust. Pushed and shoved from place to place, given a hammock for a bed and told to attend upon one of the senior Midshipman when summonsed, I immediately decided that this was no place for me. Within hours I had escaped this hellhole and, without any plan in mind or any sense of what to do next, I crept through the streets of Portsmouth taking comfort only from the small amount of money in my pockets.

Being a port city, my presence was not particularly noteworthy but a young trainee without an obvious purpose was clearly out of place. Apprehension by the authorities was inevitable and I had moved no more that a mile or so from the waterfront before the inevitable happened. Taken to some sort of military prison, I refused to answer questions in the hope that my absence from the ship would not come to anyone's attention. To my regret that ploy achieved very little and I was soon identified and advised that I would be returned to my rightful place as soon as a cutter was available to transport me there. In the interim, I was locked in a cell surrounded by the oppressive and anonymous noises of the other miscreants who were awaiting disposition according to the dictates of the Navy.

During the day of my incarceration, no one spoke to me and apart from some inedible gruel and water which were thrust through the door, there was nothing by way of sustenance.

Finally returned to the ship with my hands manacles in front of me, I was taken down seemingly endless passages to the Master of Arms who greeted me with surprising civility and noted that at least most runaways at least spent a few days on board before trying to flee. Somewhat relieved by the absence of malice in his tone I began to relax a little thinking perhaps that my actions would not invite retribution. A knock at the door signaled the arrival of a Petty Officer and the senior Midshipman to whose watch I had been assigned.

Petty Officer Wright seemed to ignore me completely as he discussed with the other what should be done with me. Finally it was agreed that I should be unchained, fed and taken to the messdeck and that Midshipman Crowe would be responsible for my remaining on board. Almost as an afterthought there was some reference to my being disciplined in the morning.

Taken below decks, I soon found myself amongst the company of a vast number of boys of my age and quickly struck up a conversation with those who were less than fully occupied with other matters. One of the older and taller boys, Tom, seemed to take a liking to me and explained the routine of the watch, where to find things, where to sleep and seemed to take me under a somewhat protective wing. Tom explained that they had all heard about my absconding and that I should expect a caning in the morning along with other boys who had infringed the rules. I protested that anyone should presume to beat me and Tom slapped me across the ear and explained that I should accept that I was now a sailor and that I was subject to the rules which applied to all the fellows around me. He explained that caning was a common means of enforcing discipline. A sore arse he explained was quite common amongst the ratings which brought laughter from those around me. The ambiguity of the observation was lost upon me as was the reason for the humorous response.

Dinner that evening was a chance to get acquainted with my fellow seaman and a time to take stock of my situation. With no way out of my predicament, I resigned myself to trying to make the best of my misfortune.

There was little by way of entertainment for my fellow sailors except for cards and much of my fellow seaman quickly retired to their hammocks to get whatever rest might be possible before they were summoned to their next watch.

For my part I pondered my fate and spent a night of great discomfort sleeping in an canvas hammock for the first time in my life'. The shape of the hammock seemed quite unnatural for someone used to sleeping in a horizontal position but I managed to doze off from time to time and awoke to the yells of the Bosun summoning our watch to its duties.

Exercise, bathing and then what passed for a meal followed and each of us was then directed to their assigned tasks. This was a training ship after all and Tom and I, along with our comrades began the day with a class designed to educate us in the one hundred and one ways of tying ropes - for purposes we could hardly discern. Nervousness about my impending punishment must have caused my mind to wander from the task in hand and more than once I felt a strong hand about my ears. Tom laughed at my shock at this type of assault and, as if to drive the pint home that this was mild by comparison with what I had yet to endure, patted his backside and laughed quietly at my discomfort.

Punishments were meted out for we ordinary seaman between classes and as our lesson with the ropes ended we were summoned to the fore deck to witness punishment. I must say that standing there in the front row of my watch my legs were quickly turning to jelly and my stomach was less than at ease. My anxiety was heightened when the Bosun's mate arrived carrying a long sturdy cane.

Part of my anxiety stemmed from the fact that I had no idea of the ritual to be performed nor of the actions expected of me. To my relief, the Bosum called one of the other boys forward and stated that for being tardy in his work he would receive 8 strokes of the cane.

I watched as the boy, Jim, walked forward to the capstan and draped himself over it and presented his fulsome backside for attention. Without ant preliminaries, the Bosun's mate took a position behind and too one side of the Jim and proceeded with all his vigor to apply the cane to the offered target. Apart from a few grunts, Jim gave no sign of the pain which he was enduring although at the last two strokes the grunts turned to slight yelps.

Throughout Jim's punishment I tried to avert my eyes and glanced along the row of my comrades to observe their reactions. None seemed to think that this barbaric activity was unusual or concerning and, indeed, a quick glance at their canvass pants suggested more than a little excitement was being derived from the spectacle. I had no such arousal and it was all I could do to control my bladder as the swish and crack of the cane pounded into my ears.

The punishment having been delivered, Jim was ordered back into ranks and I was summoned.

The charge of absconding was clearly more serious that Jim's offence and vaguely I heard vaguely the instructions for me to be given a dozen strokes. Rough hands grabbed me and led me to the capstan . Whilst someone pulled my hands forward, I felt others undoing the rope which held up my trousers and pulling them down. Unceremoniously I was pulled forward and two sets of hands grabbed each of my legs and pulled them apart. I turned the deepest shade of red at my sudden nudity and shook from the realisation of the vulnerability of my backside.

My head hung down as my brain tried to take in the reality of my situation but before it could focus a searing fire erupted in my posterior as the cane found its mark. I screamed from pain and shock as somewhere in the distance someone announced simply: "One".

Slowly, with measured determination, my assailant continued with the beating and, try as I might, I had the devil's own job trying to contain my cries.

As "Ten" was announced I was certain that I would die from the injuries that I was suffering.

Number "Eleven" was as low as one could imagine cutting my flesh at the point where my thighs and buttocks joined and catching my hanging testicles just for good measure. My scream and the ferocity of my struggle to escape took all the effort of those who were holding me.

The final stroke was clearly laid upon previous ones and blood started to ooze down my legs. "Twelve" said the impassioned voice from afar and those who were holding me simply let go and I collapsed onto the deck grabbing my burning testicles with one hand and my swollen and bloodied arse with the other.

The assembly was dismissed and Jim came over and helped me to my feet. He used seawater to wash the blood from my backside, and helped me dress, a put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"I've seen worse and had worse," he said. "You'll soon be better. It will just hurt for a day or so."

I sobbed a grateful "thanks" for his compassion and consideration if not for his assurance.

"Boys," a voice said from above and we both looked up into the Bosun's red-blotched face. "You're to come with me" he declared.

We followed the Bosun to the cabin of the First Officer. The Bosun knocked and we were bidden to enter. We marched in and stood at attention as the officer looked us over.

After a pause he announced that we two were unfit for duty in the Navy and that he wanted to be rid of us. We were to pack our gear and report immediately to the Bosun on the main deck who was to have us transferred to the Agincourt - a 958 ton Transport Ship - moored some distance away.

Dismissed, Jim and I went below to do as instructed and with little delay, because we had very few possessions to pack in our sea bags, we reported as instructed.

We descended over the side of the ship into the waiting whaler and were rowed across the harbour to our new home. It took perhaps some twenty minutes to reach our destination and I spent much of that time thinking of nothing but the searing pain in my backside, exacerbated by the timber plank on which I was sitting.

We drew alongside a bark and once the whaler was secured we scrambled up the rope ladder and alighted on the deck. The duty Petty Officer received our papers and simply instructed a nearby Midshipman to: "Get them below and their gear stowed."

We followed the Midshipman down below decks where we were assigned hammocks and he introduced himself as "Nathan". Gradually getting our bearings we quizzed Nathan on where we were and what was our purpose.

The Agincourt, it transpired was about to set to sea with a cargo of 224 male convicts. Jim and I had been assigned to a transport ship and our destination was the convict settlement at Port Arthur in Van Diemens Land some 13,000 miles away. Agincourt would in fact head to Norfolk Island and then transfer crew and some convicts to a local vessel - the Lady Franklin - for the onward journey to Port Arthur

Sick to my stomach I thus began a journey to the further most part of the earth with over 200 convicts chained on the decks below and an uncertain prospect of ever seeing my home again.

2. The Journey: Lost Innocence

We sailed within an hour of our arrival which is why I had been transferred to this ship - there would be no opportunity to run away from here!

Without any particular duties, Jim and I climbed up on deck as the crew prepared to get underway.

Immediately we were set upon by a huge bear-like sailor who demanded to know who we were. Jim spoke up and explained that we were recently sent to the ship and were to sail with her. Seemingly satisfied, this ruffian directed that we assist by stowing some of the ropes which were littering the deck and we applied ourselves assiduously to this task for fear of further punishment being visited upon our tender posteriors.

As we went about our task there was great commotion as the Agincourt put to sea and, as all sailors did, we stood and watched the land recede over the horizon.

Now I was immediately feeling unwell never having been to sea and the unfamiliar motion of the vessel started my stomach churning. Jim laughed at my predicament and led me to the side where I promptly emptied my stomach.

"Not feeling well, boy?" a voice inquired behind us. Startled, we turned to find a youngish man dressed in the uniform of a Marine. We blinked at the dazzling sight and Jim explained our circumstances. Lieutenant McAlister (later introduced as Robert), taking pity on my plight produced a hip flask and offered me a swig of brandy to help settle my innards.

As the fiery liquid burned down my throat. McAlister turned me around and ordered me to bend over and put his fingers on my trousers.

"What's this then?" he asked, referring to blood which had seeped through the seat of my trousers.

Jim promptly told him of our punishment and the circumstances which had given rise to our being caned.

Not offering any opinion as to the crime or the punishment, McAlister said: "Well, you'd better watch yourself here. Flogging and caning will be used to maintain discipline here, of that you can be sure. Now, tell me, have you been assigned to a watch?"

Advised that we hadn't been assigned to any particular duties, he turned on his heals and made his way to the quarterdeck.

Jim and I thought no more about the encounter. Jim continued to stow the last remaining ropes while I sat down resting against the gunwale trying to avoid the queasiness which still circled my guts.

About us a routine developed as the crew set about trimming sails and generally clearing the decks.

As the sun went down one of the ship's boys came to us and instructed us to meet Lieutenant McAlister in his cabin. Knowing better than to be tardy, we rushed to obey.

By trial and error we finally found the Lieutenant's cabin and, upon knocking, were bidden to enter.

We entered to find that McAlister had a companion with him - another Lieutenant by the name of Finch. McAlister was seated on his bed whilst Lieutenant Finch sat on one of the chairs.

"What do you think?" McAlister asked his fellow officer.

Finch got up and put his hand under Jim's chin and raised him so that he might better view the face. He repeated the exercise with me and then circled around behind us before resuming his seat.

"What's your name boy?" he asked me.

"Christopher", I replied.

"And you boy?" looking at my companion.

"Jim, Sir" came the reply.

Smiling, he looked at Lieutenant McAlister and, with a slight laugh said: "They should do just fine."

McAlister then addressed us: "The Master of this ship is Captain Neatby. I have spoken to him and he has agreed that you should serve as our cabin boys during this voyage. Since you have little seamanship, we will see that you are trained in the knowledge you need. You, Jim, will serve Mr Finch and you, boy, will see to my needs. Put a foot out of line and you will be disciplined. Serve us well and you shall be treated well. Is that all clear?"

"Yes, Sir", my companion and I chorused.

Lieutenant Finch got to his feet and said to Jim: "Come with me" and promptly departed.

McAlister looked at me for a few moments and then said: "Well, you'd better get started. But first, sit down and tell me about yourself."

I sat down on the chair vacated by Lieutenant Finch after turning to face my apparent master. For several minutes I rambled on about my being an unwilling seaman, my life in the country and culminated with a narration regarding the most recent events.

He pondered my story for a few minutes and then said: "Well, you have to make the best of this situation. You are on a ship bound for the colonies and there is no alternative but to do your duty. Now I want you to fetch some hot water and prepare my bath. When I have finished, you will bathe and then serve my dinner. You and your friend shall eat with the crew. And, by the way, stop by Lieutenant Finch's cabin and ask him if he would join me for dinner. We are not dining with the Captain tonight. Now off with you."

I set about the tasks assigned to me but being somewhat unfamiliar with the goings on on board a ship, I was somewhat at a loss as to how to go about some things such as fetching water. I found Lieutenant Finch's cabin and knocked and entered. I extended McAlister's invitation to dine and was relieved to find that Jim had similar duties to mine and could therefore show me how to go about things.

As we went to obtain buckets of hot water Jim offered observations about our station in life.

"It seems we have secured ourselves just about the best jobs we could," he said. "I know that we will have to share their beds, but their protection will be worth it. It's better than having to service half the crew."

Confused by this suggestion, I asked him what he meant by sharing their beds.

"Are you really that simple?", Jim inquired. "Surely you know about bum boys?"

Seeing no acknowledgement of the facts of the matter, Jim proceeded to explain the facts of sodomy to me in the crudest possible terms. I was horrified and told him that I would not partake in such activity.

"Don't be stupid," Jim retorted. "Your choice is clear, either you serve McAlister's needs or you join the rest of the crew below decks where a pretty boy like you will have to accommodate a dozen, maybe more and they may not be a civilized as McAlister. It's your choice but for me, having to service one man is better than spending four months servicing half the crew! Think about it. You have a good assignment and if that is the price it's better than the alternative. There are other boys on board who would quite happily take your place."

Revolted by the idea of committing such an abomination I understood Jim's logic and hoped that I might be able to persuade Lieutenant McAlister not to interfere with me in such a manner. I resolved that I would appeal to his better nature.

It took Jim and I a number of trips to secure enough hot water to create a bath for our respective masters and cold water was then added to establish an acceptable temperature. Having completed this task I was about to leave McAlister's cabin when he enquired as to where I was going.

"I thought I should leave you to bathe" I said.

"You'll stay" he directed and proceeded to disrobe adding: "Gather up my clothes and wash them tomorrow and find a towel so that you may dry me when I'm done".

Try as I might, in the close confines of the cabin, I could not help but notice, even admire the body that was gradually revealed as he removed his garments. His long blond hair contrasted sharply with the totally hairless broad and well-developed chest to which my eyes were drawn. From his handsome face and the condition of his body I guessed that he must have been in his mid twenties.

I continued to watch the unveiling as first his britches and then his undergarments were removed. Irresistibly my eyes were drawn to his groin from which hung an appendage seemingly more suited to a horse than a man. He gave a slight chuckle at my obvious astonishment and stepped into the bath with a sigh of relaxation.

"A glass of wine, I think", he said to me and I dutifully collected my thoughts and unlocked the decanter containing what appeared to be a Madera wine and poured a glass. Nervously I stepped over the to tub and handed it to him.

He smiled at me for the first time and said: "You had better prepare for your bath. Get undressed."

I hesitated. "Do it." Came the instruction and reluctantly I began to disrobe.

Now I have never had concerns about being naked but in the company of a stranger this was humiliating. I stripped off my clothes and stood with my back to him.

"A few stripes but nothing much," he said remarking on the damage which the caning had wrought on my exposed backside. "The bleeding has stopped," he remarked. "Now turn around so that I may see the rest of you."

I stood frozen to the spot. "Please," I said in feeble protest.

"Look here boy," he said angrily, "I will say this only once. Either you do as I say or I shall have you caned and thrown to the men below and let them do as they please. I have already warned you once. There will be no further warning. Now turn around so I may inspect the whelp that is to serve me."

Shuddering at the cold and calculated manner of his address, I turned and dropped my hands to my sides so that he could inspect me as he wished.

"Not bad, but a bit dirty" he concluded after looking me up and down. "You will bathe every day and keep yourself presentable at all times. Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir," I replied and waited, rooted to the deck, as he finished washing himself.

He motioned me to rinse him off and without thinking I poured a bucked of cold water over his head and torso.

"You little bugger," he yelled "use warm water".

Quickly I grabbed the bucket which contained now luke warm water and rinsed him off.

He stood and grabbed a towel and dried his head and then threw the towel to me saying "Now dry me off."

Starting with his back I did as instructed. When I reached his buttocks I hesitated but he simply waited while I found the courage to proceed.

"Now the front," he directed and turned to face me.

Knowing that sooner or later the most difficult moment would arrive I began wiping his chest and then his abdomen. When further hesitation was obviously futile, I took a deep breath and cradled his privates in the towel and dried them as gently as I could. Using both hands I quickly finished this part of the task noting to my amazement the sudden enlargement of the member which I was gently rubbing.

As I finished, he grabbed the towel and stepped out of the tub. He instructed me to get in while he finished drying his legs and feet.

I enjoyed the lukewarm bath and lay back as best I could to soak myself. McAlister came around behind me and, leaning over my shoulders, began soaping me. His hands wandered all over my chest and gradually edged their way down to that most private part of my body. He sensed my increasing apprehension and told me to relax. Now, being naked with an older man seeking access to ones genitals is not really a situation made for relaxation. I tried to push his hand away but it insistently pressed on. Finally I shoved his hand away with all my strength and yelled: "No!".

The lieutenant immediately grabbed me by my hair and pulled me screeching from the tub. He threw a towel at he with the implicit instruction to dry myself. When I has half way through this process he grabbed me by my hair again and literally threw me over the end of his bunk.

"If you move I will have you flogged for striking an Officer", he warned as he went over to the cupboard.

I looked over my shoulder as he returned carrying a belt made of fine leather.

"I am going to teach you some manners now boy", he said and immediately started to lay the leather across every inch of my body. As I cried out in pain the beating continued remorselessly and only ceased when the cabin door opened and Lieutenant Finch walked in.

"Needs taming?" Finch asked of McAlister.

"The little blighter doesn't seem to want to learn" replied McAlister.

"Well I'm famished so why don't you let he and his mate get us our dinner and then we'll get into some serious training" suggested Finch.

"Maybe a feed will make him a bit more cooperative," McAlister concluded and let me rise and scramble into my clothes.

Without further instruction I went in search of Jim who was in Finch's cabin. He knew that I had been beaten and said nothing of it. My guess was that he also had a rough idea of the reason. Silently we went to the galley to get the officers' dinner and returned and laid out the table. We were told to go and get a feed and to return promptly.

Having just left port there was plenty of fresh food on board and we ate our fill with gusto. The food distracted me from the aches all down my back but as we neared the end of our meal the reality of my predicament sank in. What was I to do?

Jim put it quite simply: "They are officers and they can do with you what they want. They'll have you as they wish and me as well and there is sod all we can do to stop them. Resistance is stupid because they will always win so you may as well co-operate and hope that they take it easy. Just remember that it's better to have to give your arse to one man rather than the whole crew! Now shut up and hope that you haven't riled them too much. And remember that what they do to you they'll probably do to me also. So if you can't think of yourself, at least give me a thought. Now let's get back and face the music."

Jim's advice was of course sound and as we trudged back to McAlister's cabin I resolved to make the best of a bad lot and behave myself.

McAlister and Finch were still eating when we arrived and we had to wait on them serving wine and clearing the plates from the table.

Replete, McAlister addressed his companion: "Well enough of the food and wine, it's now time for the women." He laughed as I turned a deep shade of red. "Why don't you take yours to your cabin while I tame mine", he suggested to Finch.

"Come Jim," said Finch as he rose and left. Jim closed the door behind him.

"Well youngster," said McAlister, "did you learn your lesson or do I have to fetch a cane and beat some sense into you?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," I replied "but I've never done anything like this before and I'm frightened."

"You and I will be spending over four months on this ship, boy," he said "so you'll have plenty of time to get used to it. Now off with those clothes and come over here."

Resigned to the inevitable I undressed and went to where McAlister was seated. Without any further comment he grabbed my waist and pulled me to him. He started fondling me into a state of erection. He then rose and started to remove his own clothes. As he lowered his drawers my attention was again riveted on the enormous member swinging between his legs.

"Sir," I said as respectfully as possible, "you can't possibly roger me with that it will kill me".

"Hurt perhaps'" he replied "but kill - I think not. I shall be more gentle than you would experience if you were one of the ratings below deck, that much is for sure."

For the first time I thought of the ship's boys who were indeed below deck with the rest of the off-duty crew and I realised that I was indeed lucky to have only one man to satisfy.

McAlister pushed me over to the bed and lay me down on my back. His hands and tongue then proceeded to explore my body.

Turning me over, he ran his hands over the welts which covered much of my body and, as he lay upon me he said quietly in my ear: "Behave yourself and there will be no need for the cane or the belt but step out of line just once and the whole ship will hear your cries."

He then reached over to the nearby table and took some lard from a bowl and began smearing it all over his enormous erection. Looking back over my shoulder I watched, mesmerised by the sight of the swelling organ. I simply couldn't believe that I was to be impaled upon it.

Satisfied with his preparations, McAlister put his hand on my head and pushed it firmly into his pillow. While I could not see my backside told me what was happening. My arse cheeks were spread and the warm greasy _c_o_c_k_ nestled itself inside my crack. Using his other hand to locate the entrance, McAlister positioned his weapon at my portal and started to push against me. Try as he might, McAlister couldn't gain entrance. Suddenly the massive _c_o_c_k_ was withdrawn and replaced by his hand which held more of the lard. This he proceeded to apply liberally to my entrance.

Without warning, I felt a sharp stabbing in my rear and realised that one of McAlister's fingers had entered me. The initial penetration quite literally took my breath away such was the pain from the intrusion. Ignoring my discomfort, McAlister started to work the grease into my hole as a prelude to a further, determined assault on my anus.

Next the finger was replaced by the much larger weapon. McAlister repositioned it at the entrance, grabbed my by my hips to raise me off the bed and pushed determinedly. I screamed as I felt my hole being opened to seemingly impossible dimensions to accommodate the invader. I was sure that my opening was being torn in two and felt the opening snap shut as the head finally slipped in


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