Shanghaied

by K'Anne Meinel

  SHANGHAIED

  A Novel by K’Anne Meinel

  Kindle Edition

  Published by:

  Shadoe Publishing for

  K’Anne Meinel on Kindle

  Copyright © K’Anne Meinel August 2019

  SHANGHAIED

  Kindle Edition License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  K’Anne Meinel is available for comments at KAnneMeinel@aim.com as well as on

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  Dedicated to anyone who thinks I’m writing about them.

  I am.

  K’Anne

  CHAPTER ONE

  As Mel began to come to, she listened to the sounds around her. She could hear shouts and conversations in several languages, clumping noises, metal grinding against metal, the creaking of wood, bangs, things rolling around, human sounds of snoring, farting, and breathing, squeaking of what she believed were rats, and above all that racket was the relentless sound of water. She could hear it faintly slapping against the thick wall her cheek was pressed tightly against. There were dreadful smells and something moist below her other cheek. It was a dampness and something else with an odor she couldn’t identify. The wall was solid, a second sense told her that, but she could still identify the sound of water near her. Where was she?

  “Get up! Get up!” a voice called, and she was suddenly sputtering as a bucketful of water splashed down on her barely awake and curiously numb face. Blinking rapidly, she could feel the sting of saltwater in her eyes. “Get yer arse up,” a voice told her. Slowly, she sat up from where she had been lying and tried to wipe the water from her eyes. Additional splashes of water hit her on both sides as buckets full of water were thrown on others around her. Blinking rapidly, she looked at the men lying about, some of them looking more confused than she. When one of the water bearers had all their attention, he said, “Yer on a ship at sea, and you’ll be doing work, if you know what’s good for ya. There hain’t no way off ‘er, and if you don’t work, you don’t eat. If you don’t work, we’ll throw ya overboard, and you’se can walk back!” He started to laugh at his own jest and the other two with him joined in.

  Mel looked up at the man that was talking. He looked horrible. Bent over slightly, he snarled his words. He could have used a good shave and his clothes hadn’t been cleaned…maybe ever. His face was in a permanent sneer, he was missing several teeth, and the teeth that remained were brown and fuzzy. His hands were gnarled looking. His shirt must have been white once, but now it was stained with dribble that had run down his scraggly beard and continued down the front of the material. His pantaloons were brown but faded from saltwater, and his scrawny but very hairy legs were darker from tanning and filth than his dirty pantaloons. He was barefooted, but the knives at his waist and a pistol held in a brightly colored red sash were well-worn and menacing, even if his countenance wasn’t.

  Standing behind that man were two others, one with a short whip in his dirty, hairy hands, the other wearing a patch over one eye with two pistols held in his hands and another two pistols wrapped in a bright orange sash at his waist. Neither man was taking any chances as they eyed their prisoners.

  Mel looked around to see who he was talking to and saw four others sprawled on the filthy floor around her.

  “Where are we?” one of the men laying beside Mel asked, reaching to hold his head.

  “I tole yer,” the man snarled. “Yer at sea, and I want ya up and workin’ NOW!” he thundered.

  “I need to be–” one man began but was struck down with a humiliating backhanded slap.

  “I told ya where ya need to be,” he snarled. “Get up and get ta work!” He leaned forward, grabbed the man by the neck of his shirt, and hurled him to the feet of his compatriots. The man behind him unfurled the short but deadly-looking whip.

  Mel was one of the first to slowly rise, her height towering well above the gnarled man. It took a moment as she felt lightheaded; someone had obviously drugged her. The man eyed her warily and backed away slightly. He didn’t know she was a woman, and why would he? She was big and built like an ox. Also, she had been wearing men’s western wear and her hair was cut short, so there was no reason for them to suspect she wasn’t a man. She knew better than to let on that she was anything other than what she appeared. She knew she was in a dangerous situation, much more dangerous than any of them realized. As a woman, she could easily be raped, and there would be no one to stop men like this. Furthermore, if they discovered the fortune she had on her person, her life would be agony until they no longer had a use for her, and then they would simply discard her into the sea. She didn’t say a word. She knew the money she must have had in her pockets was long gone. Her fine boots, her hat, and her leather jacket were also all gone.

  A second man got up slowly. He too seemed to be intoxicated, the aftereffects of the drugs making him sluggish. “I don’t think you understand. I can pay for–” he began, trying to sound reasonable.

  The man smiled, baring his disgusting teeth. His fetid breath wafted across the distance separating him and the men he was standing over. “Anythin’ you thought you had is ours. You gotta earn yer way across.”

  “But I assure you, I can–” the man said again, reaching for a wallet that wasn’t there. “I’ve been robbed!” he gasped, incredulous at such an occurrence as he patted his pockets desperately. The three men standing over them laughed uproariously at his statement and chagrin.

  Mel watched the man and the others, who were taking longer to come around. She could see one was just a boy. She glanced up as the man with the whip licked his lips, gazing at the boy and eying him up and down. She saw where he was looking.

  “Yer gonna work yer way across,” the man repeated, backhanding the man insultingly.

  The man looked astounded to have been touched by the vulgar man and had started forward, intending to defend his honor, when the whip struck him. First, it hit his cheek, then his outstretched hand, and finally, his knee. Each crack of the whip echoed loudly in the small, enclosed area. Each strike landed a little harder, the third one causing his knees to buckle, and he went down, crying out at the pain. The three men seemed amused at his humiliation and obvious agony.

  “Yer gonna have to learn to obey us,” the man continued, thumb pointing at himself and his cronies.

  Mel eyed them and then noticed the other two men and the boy slowly getting up, afraid not to. Fear was a motivating factor, and she saw them watching the three men warily. She waited to see what would happen next.

  They were herded up top onto the heaving deck of the ship, falling against the walls of the stairwell, unsteady on their feet. Jeers, catcalls, and bawdy suggestions were yelled at them, especially the boy, and he flushed as he realized what they were suggesting. Mel could see he was afraid.

  Each of them was assigned to a sailor, who would teach them what to do. Mel could see immediately that the sailors, who
had the power of life or death over them, also didn’t want to run afoul of those men who wielded the whip and gave the commands.

  “Just do as yer told and you may get outta this alive,” the older sailor she was assigned to told her helpfully.

  Mel nodded, trying to clear the fogginess in her mind and glad that the numbness seemed to have subsided. She could see her companions were in varying degrees of shock over their sudden change in circumstances. One of them tried to argue and was whipped, kicked, and punched for his impunity. She saw the man, who had originally tried to argue, had learned his lesson as he limped painfully to do as he was told.

  Many men were needed on a ship this size, and Mel looked around as she helped, using her immense strength to haul in lines the man gave her. There was no time to talk or exchange information but that didn’t mean it was quiet as the men continually shouted out to each other. She glanced up at the poop deck where a well-dressed man and several others stood. She assumed they were officers of the ship. She’d seen one of the new men rush up and try to reason with these better dressed gentlemen, only to be whipped and beaten for his temerity and then forced back to work.

  “Not like that.” The sailor teaching her showed her how to properly tie off the rope she was holding. “You want it to hold,” he explained, sounding exasperated. When Mel got it wrong again, not seeing the twist he added to his tie, he backhanded her to discipline her. Mel stared at the man, making him distinctly uncomfortable as she waited silently for him to show her again. Once he had again demonstrated it, she duplicated the wrapping of the rope, realizing she had to tie it against itself, so it wouldn’t come loose. That accomplished, they moved on to other things.

  By midday, Mel was exhausted. The aftereffects of whatever knockout drug they had used on her had worn off. She was horribly thirsty and was relieved when the sailor approached a bucket and using a dipper, slurped up some of the water he pulled up. He offered it to Mel, and at first, the idea of drinking from the same vessel repulsed her, but looking about, she realized this was no time to be fastidious. She quickly drank, relieved to have her thirst assuaged, no matter how small the amount. They quickly went back to work. The cook and his helpers came around handing out bread, so the sailors didn’t have to stop working. Mel was grateful to have something, anything in her stomach, but she worried as she had to use the necessary and knew there would be no facilities. The men peed at will, some over the sides, and some squatting over a bucket, which they then threw over the side and washed out before towing it back with a rope for the next person. They didn’t seem to mind if others saw them. Mel minded, especially seeing them make faces as they used the bucket. She would have to wait. She had no choice if she didn’t want to be discovered. She had looked out over the water several times and saw no sign of land anywhere. San Francisco was long gone over the horizon.

  Mel was a strong woman for the times, her hands used to hard work over the months and years she had herded cows. She used that strength to keep up with the spry, old sailor, who seemed to grunt out his satisfaction as she helped and learned the hard work. Having seen sailors effortlessly do such work for her in the past, she appreciated its difficulty now that she had to do it for them. She was watched all the time, from what she could tell. The others that had been shanghaied at the same time worked just as hard and were not fairing nearly as well. The other sailors smacked and even punched them into submission to get them to work. She worried over the boy but hadn’t seen him since he had been assigned to one sailor, who looked innocent enough at first glance, but when she saw him up close, his eyes had radiated evil.

  Mel realized this was far different from the pleasure cruises she and her father had taken between the Americas and Europe back in the day. These men didn’t work for their passengers. There were no passengers that she could see, and there would be no staterooms or private bunks. These were the dregs of society, men she wouldn’t have considered associating with at any time. They stayed out on their ships, working their lives away, then enjoying their times in port wenching, drinking, and gambling. The officers of the ship weren’t much better, just better dressed. A few of them even nattily dressed after having just come from port. The shanghaied men were treated as mere slaves, along with a few others, who hadn’t dared to desert the horrible ship. Mel kept her head down, did as she was told, and tried to learn.

  Dinner was a watery fish stew with more bread. Mel was disgusted to find weevils in the bread, but she used her nail to flick the wiggling critters out of her food, inspecting it closely each time before she took a bite, so she wouldn’t accidentally eat one of the disgusting, wriggling creatures. She tried not to be too fastidious as it would give her away. Her nails and hands were filthy, as were those around her also joggling for space on the table as the ship rocked and rolled over the water. Everything that wasn’t nailed down on their table rolled around on its flat surface. Slurping, belching, and farting their way through the meal, many just wiped their lips and moustaches on their sleeves and shirts. Mel followed suit, knowing the more she fit in, the less they would notice her.

  “Yer a strong one,” someone commented, and Mel nodded, not wishing to engage in conversation and give herself away. She affected a lower voice, something she had used before when people assumed she was a man. It wasn’t difficult, her naturally melodic voice lower than most women. After finishing her meal, the sailor she had been assigned to, Humphrey Duggins, showed her where she could bunk in a hammock slung between two pillars of the ship along with forty other men. No one was sleeping this early. Several were playing cards, a couple were drinking, and the lights were low, so there was no worry about fire. Others were going about the ship on their own business, some staying up top to work and watch in case they were needed, and others were just enjoying the cold night air.

  Mel examined her new accommodations, worrying about her full bladder and wondering how she could get a moment alone to empty it. Also, dinner hadn’t set well with her, and she worried that it would loosen her bowels. She knew some of it was the trepidation she was feeling and genuine fear over this dangerous situation.

  Left alone, she made her way back towards the cargo hold, making it look like she was heading up onto the deck for air. She slipped behind some casks with a bucket she had grabbed, knowing from its smell it had already been used for the same purpose she was about to use it for. She had a hard time seeing and hoped no one would come upon her. She bent over, quickly pulling down her trousers and slipping aside the men’s summer underwear she had been wearing, so she could make her stream. She slipped aside the two rolls of coins she had hidden there, awkwardly having learnt to walk despite them. She tried not to think about them as she squatted, relieving first her bladder and then quickly, her bowels. The odor rose in the enclosed space, and she heard others in the hold. The rhythmic sounds told her what they were about as they used each other on this male-only ship. She only hoped they didn’t hear the noises she made into the bucket as she quickly finished up, disgusted that she didn’t have a paper to wipe her backside. Resigned to her situation, she quickly pulled up her trousers and took the bucket topside to throw it overboard, being careful to stay out of the wind, so it wouldn’t come back on board or splash her person. Having just learned how to tie a proper knot that day, she was pleased with herself for tying the rope on the handle, so she could throw it overboard and wash out the bucket.

  “Ya did good today,” a voice said as she finished cleaning the bucket and went to return it to the hold. She hadn’t seen the man smoking the pipe in the dark and this disturbed her, almost as though she had been caught out.

  “Thank ye,” she responded, figuring that keeping her answers short and sweet would be her best bet under the circumstances. She continued toward the hold, going down the nearly vertical steps and making her way to her hammock after she put the bucket down by the door.

  “’Bout time you got back with that,” someone groused as he loosened his trousers and squatted without any fan
fare, not caring that he was exposed to everyone else in the area.

  Mel hurried away from the disagreeable man, not wishing to be around him or his disgusting habits. Still, she figured it must be the norm as no one else seemed to notice or care. She saw one of her fellow shipmates that had been shanghaied with her, and he was sporting a black eye. She turned away, unable to help him and hoping he would fare better tomorrow. Climbing into her hammock took some doing, and she was alarmed when another man came over and climbed into the hammock above her. His ass was right above her, and knowing the men’s habits already, she knew she couldn’t escape the noxious odors that would likely escape from him. She pulled up her blanket, nearly burying her face in it and welcoming the warmth when it trapped her body heat and she began to warm. She didn’t sleep soundly. Too many men came and went, and she was nervous about sleeping too deeply and having anyone find her out.

  She’d been told she would be roused for her shift, and after four hours she heard some of the others moving about. She rose before they could wake her and used the bucket again. Carrying it to her hiding place, she was quick, having waited until her body was nearly bursting. She cleaned it out because no one else seemed to care, then replaced it and headed to breakfast with the others.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The second day was worse than the first. The wind blew all the time and chapped the lips of those exposed to its moisture-sucking gusts. The sun, when it was visible, burnt any and all exposed skin. A couple of the new sailors didn’t fare well at the change in their circumstances. Some would sicken, and by the end of the first week, one of them would be tossed unceremoniously into the sea, his body wrapped half-heartedly in a sheet, his feet tied to a heavy stone, and his remains left to the creatures of the deep. Their bodies ached from the unfamiliar work.