The Pucell Princess
Forced destiny:

The bars of gold having been stacked neatly against the west wall of the natural cavern picked up and arranged in orderly rows and stacks for the wild dispersal that had occurred in the hectic days of transporting, as well as hectic hours of the fighting and killing, all the accumulated barrels, bags, chests, and boxes.

From the devastated wreckage of the once magnificent armed galleon, “Pucell Princess” all these items had been transported.

I was very tired and still somewhat in a dream world of riches beyond my imagining; that is to say, moving about in a daze of silver and gold tinted fugue.

True the carrying of all those vessels filled with such precious metals and gleaming gemstones had taken the better part of 6 days, but I felt better than I would have if a rescue ship had happened upon my “treasure isle” to perform a rescue of myself and found that quantity of valuables just lying in the small cave that the corsairs had carried it to.

The thought that had immediately come to mind was that, as a young boy and shipwreck survivor, they may have just eliminated me, so as not to have to claim under the salvage laws that state if one survivor is present then the whole ship and contents cannot be claimed as salvage, but no survivors meant a complete claim of salvage is within the rights of the salvagers.

At the present time if a ship did happen along to relieve me from this weather ripped rock, among the dangerous reefs in this archipelago of tiny islands, I felt sure that I could navigate back to this place — perhaps with a small trusted few to share in my new found wealth.

However, I really knew my chances of being seen and then rescued, so far out of the normal shipping lanes were very scant. Perhaps I could use the one intact long boat to sail to a port someplace close by.

There was still a great deal to do.

The accumulated bags and barrels, chests and boxes lay strewn about.
Where I had dumped then in the back of the large cavern, that was to be my home
I had yet to sort and arrange them having started with the bars. There were also the other items to preserve from the wreck of the Pucell Princess, the food and water, clothing and weapons that I would need to survive.

I had needlessly started to sort my new found wealth before looking to my survival.

However, wrong that was.

The allure of gold and silver, gems and material wealth, lusting in my eyes, was still a powerful draw.

Finally, with the bars done and all the treasure safely in the cave, I turned to the matter of setting up a shelter and a place to live so that I would survive and hopefully be rescued.

That was all good to say, but I was still alone, Shipwrecked on this nameless island.

By way of explanation, I should tell you that the small caravel that I had stowed away on in my latest attempt to run away from home, had come to a bad end.

They swarmed over the rail in the dead of the night as we were becalmed in the Doldrums off the coast of Brazil. The few crewmen who had survived the initial onslaught were to be thanked as they distracted the attention of those barbarous ruffians, who took them aboard the Pucell Princess and were entertained by them long enough for me to clamber into the chains of netting under the figurehead.

When I say entertained, I mean that the corsairs killed them in horrendous ways.
I remained there for the three days it had taken to sail northwards into this small grouping of islands.

After being woken by an argument from the deck above, in which it was determined that some wished to go into Tortuga, to debauch themselves of as much rum and ladies as was physically possible, the opposing group wanted to find a likely place to secrete the spoils of their endeavors.

With the elected Captain threatening the debauchers with a miserable death and damnation for breaking “the Code”, they determined to find among the islands currently lying two points off the larboard bow, a desirous place to land and hide their ill-gotten gains of the last six months of privateering/piracy.
However, events did not work out to the conclusion that they had planned for.
When the ship was just about to tack into a small bay, of a likely un-inhabited island, I think the drinking had gotten the best of many of them, perhaps the helmsman let go of the wheel or the rudder was snapped off or a sail unfurled at the wrong moment.

Because the towering ship picked up speed and grounded herself heavily on the reef, unseen by any but myself as it quickly approached. Because of my unique position under the figurehead, I had a close-up view of it as the ship sped towards her shallow doom. I was thrown into the warm water as a result of her sudden grinding halt on the jagged rocks of the coral head.

I can only imagine the shock and dismay of those scurrilous men, as the Princess worked her way onto the jagged coral, grinding her hull at the waves crashed into her high stern castle, driving her harder and smashing her bow to shreds.

I tread water in the shallows of the warm bay watching and listening to the shouts and frantic activity on the Princess’s high decks. They were trying desperately to keep the ship from broaching, turning sideways in the pounding surf. However, with the topgallants still set and the bow grounded fast, the forces were working against her.

Moments later the Pucell Princess did broach and then heeled over in the surf.
Tilting her deck at a very steep angle so that the view I now had was like a birds — looking down from above. Men were sliding down her deck into the water or getting tangled in the rigging. As her masts and rigging could not take that amount of strain placed upon them, with a horrible, cracking and ripping she was de-masted.

I turned and began stroking for shore a bare two hundred yards away.
When I was close the bottom began sloping up, and I could stand with the small waves hitting me in the back, and propelling me in towards the white sand beach. Turning back I could see some men doing the same as I had, they were swimming ashore.

Realizing that this was an opportunity, because of the confusion that would rule for some time I quickly ran into the dense undergrowth, knowing that no one would have taken notice of me.
I took refuge in a thick hedge of growth to plan and observe. Deciding to keep my presence unknown from the pirates, partly to see what would happen and partly for my own safety. That would enable me to chose the best course, whether action or no action - for me.

I had to think for myself and view them as hostile to my survival.
As they began to come ashore, I knew that it would be some time before they would decide on any action, whatever that action may be. Turning inland and moving upwards from the beach the undergrowth gave way to a level grove of palm trees spaced wider apart and swaying in the off-shore breeze.

Beyond these palms, the undergrowth got thicker and the ground sloped up, until I found a small rivulet of a spring. Drinking deeply and resting for a few moments I decided that my best action should be observation of what would happen in the next hours and days.

Therefore, I moved even higher up and found a good place to overlook the bay and beach.

The island was larger than my initial impression coming ashore that morning.
Shaped in a crescent with a bulging middle, the two arms of which stretched in an arc fully a league across, the arms themselves were not just a rising of beach but were substantial land masses almost 100 yards across or more.
Moreover, they were closely vegetated with palm trees and a thick tangle of undergrowth.

The main section of this island was a cone of rock that was honeycombed with small caves and crevices. Rising above the smooth beach of the bay about 100 feet, this cone did not have steep vertical sides but a gentle slope, for the most part, the exception being a wedge shaped cliff directly in the beach's center.

I had hidden myself from the first moments of coming ashore in the thick vegetation at the base of this cliff. As the rogues from the Princess stumbled onto the beach, I delved deeper into the cover of the jungle to come to the base of the rising cliff. Off to the right side in the gentle slopes of the cone there was a small fresh water stream which I stopped at to quench my thirst.

Moving up the slope to gain some distance and safety from the crew, I found a path leading back around in the direction that I had come, following this path led to a small ledge barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast. However, it was covered from being seen from the beach by the dense palm leaves of those trees growing from the slope.

This was a good place to observe the proceedings, so going back to the stream and covering the beginnings of the path from anyone who may visit the stream and there for preventing them from following me up the path. Going back to my vantage point was easy now and when I continued on a little further I found a cave.

Not pressed right into the rock face but having a good sized ledge of 20 feet protruding out from which I could remain hidden yet still observe the beach in complete safety. Having picked up some mangos and a few coconuts, I sat in the shade and feasted where I could see what was happening down below me in the bay, the wrecked ship lying on her side though mostly exposed, I knew she would never sail again. It seemed unlikely that these men could get as organized as they would have to be, to re-float her and put her back in sailing condition.

I was taken aback by how many men were milling about on the beach, I had not thought that there were that many on the Princess. The so called Captain was bellowing orders at them trying to get them involved in a salvage operation.
His desire to remove the treasure from the ship and lighten her so that she may be refloated was obvious to me, but he met some resistance it seemed, as the men were more concerned with whose property the treasure was.

Two men were arguing when a shot rang out and one fell to the sand, the Captain held a pistol with a wisp of smoke drifting from the barrel. His next words galvanized the remainder of the men, as they began moving to pluck some timbers from the surf and make a raft. Work then progressed at a pace, I thought amazing, but not apparently for men used to ropes and sails and timber.

Some hours into the evening they had obviously come up with a plan and had started to implement it, a raft had been pieced together from masts and spars, lashed together with some ropes of the rigging. They then proceeded to move between the tilted deck of the Princess and the shore, moving some items ashore for their immediate use.

For in a very short while they had a system worked out so that one group brought the chests and boxes to the surface from the holds of the Princess to another group waiting with the raft which they loaded and winched ashore where it was unloaded and carried into the jungle to be hidden in a small cave that one of them had found. They did not appear to have found my stream, when I checked there were no footprints in the sand that my leaf brushing had smoothed over. They must have found another or better still were drinking the ships' stores of liquor, for many of them were staggering about after some hours of labor.

That may work to my advantage. Staying hidden seemed the best course of action for me to adhere to, for I still knew nothing of what they may do if I was to reveal myself, or if they were to find me. Unloading and stowing of the various boxes and chests, bags and other bundles took the better part of three days.
In that time, I continued to explore the island, finding a few more fresh water streams and watering pools.

As well as sighting many birds and petrels, some goats in the distance as well as many different types of lizards and reptiles, which skittered away at my approach. There did not seem to be any other signs that anyone had ever been here before, those corsairs had indeed chosen a deserted isle to secrete their ill-gotten gains.

Moving back to my lookout ledge in the afternoon of the sixth day I lay down in the shade provided by the palm leaves and listened to the clamor from below.
The figures of men lying and standing around on the beach confirmed just what I had thought, they were discussing what to do in a typical democratic manner, for pirates they were and did things by a vote and elected those that led them, even badly as this Captain had.

I also knew that this would go on until a consensus had been reached, and they then would drag themselves up to do what they must. A fire was started on the beach and food began to be cooked, the smell of cooking meat reached me on my ledge, teasing me with the knowledge that I had had nothing, but some fruit and coconut milk for some days. Voices and songs began drifting up to me as the sun was setting in the west, and I realized that they had been imbibing the rum for some time, probably one of the first things to hit the beach after the men had.
Therefore, they were shortly a drunken, singing, and dancing around the bonfire motley group who would before long be sleeping on the open beach.

There seems to be some loud discussion of what to do next, one group tried to out shout the other in demanding that the whale boat be provisioned and sent for help. While the other demanded that working parties immediately begin to re-float the Princess. Still another wanted to just sit back, drink and wait for some ship to pass by so that a rescue could be affected.

This went on for some time and grew more heated by the moment, until just before dusk shots and the clash of swords could be heard.

For the remaining daylight was slipping quickly away, this noise of small battles went on, darkness fell late that evening, and still there were sounds of men hunting for each other. The sounds increased when one faction found another in the dark. For the next few hours, there were occasional shots and even some screams. The worst was the low moan that sometimes drifted upwards from the slopes. Well towards midnight by my calculation, things fell silent.
I needed to take advantage of this and waited patiently until the noise had died away to nothing and then began moving down through the brush and trees, to lay in hiding, concealed by the undergrowth.

My plan was simple, I needed to arm myself, and I needed to get some of the meat that had been cooked earlier. Pausing in the fringe beyond which the firelight did not penetrate, I looked closely at the forms of men in various positions of sleep, trying to note if any were on watch or if they may be sham-sleeping to keep an eye on their fellow pirates.

I waited and watched intently for any movement or sign of danger that could be discerned. I noted the position of swords and pistols, powder flasks and dirks.
I would need these, to properly defend myself from these rum besotted ruffians.
When I was sure that everyone was asleep or otherwise unconscious, I crept slowly around the left side of the sleeping forms.

This was darker with more shadows than the other side was. Stepping carefully around each of them, I retrieved the items I needed and stuffed them into my waist band. The last item was a joint of beef left on a log, this was picked up as I slipped back to the darkest edge, and then to the bushes, pausing to listen for any pursuit or notice of my passing among them.

Hearing nothing, I slipped further away and left the beach behind me, quickly arriving at my overlook. I examined my new possessions, checking the firearms to make sure they worked well and the blades to make sure they were sharp.
The beef joint was just right; I gnawed on it surprised at how hungry I was.
Then I settled into sleep a few hours before sunrise.

When I woke that morning, I knew I had to see how the storm had settled.
I knew that some of the rogues were probably dead, but that left the possibility that some had survived.

What could I do if they did? Continue to hide until they were rescued and not I? That would not do, I could be marooned here for years or even for the rest of my life. I slept some that night, but not very well, with images of myself alone on this deserted isle, starving and desperate.

My eyes opened with the rising sun, I was positioned so that it shone right in my face. Slowing stretching my cramped limbs, getting a chance to take stock of what I had gotten last night on my little raid, in the full light of day.
Very soon, I was up and moving down the ledge path, to survey what had occurred in the dark of last night. Finally deciding that I had to find out whether I was correct in my assumption. Creeping through the undergrowth to the vantage point that I had used last night, from there, I could get a view of the clearing that most of the crew had occupied.

Peering between the sheltering leaves I saw no movement or any man standing and a peculiar smell filled the air. That mellifluous air, that lingered and permeated everything, was not gunpowder or human sweat, although those were present. This was a sweet odor, which clung to the nostrils and lay on your skin as heavy fog sometimes does. The buzz of insects was loud in the clearing; they floated in clouds above the prostrate forms on the ground.

I waited and watched, looking for movement and signs of life. There was none.
Could they all have been killed? I picked up a small chunk of wood and looking intently, threw it into the clearing, it landed on a body from which a cloud of flies erupted, but no other movement was made.

They did indeed all seem to be dead.

Discretion being the better part of the role I needed to play, I retreated back to the path of my ledge hiding place and waited. A restless and unnerving afternoon, spent listening and watching for some sign of life, somewhere.
Continuing my vigil down towards the bay and the beach, I could see figures sprawled about but no one moving about yet, I knew what that meant - they really were corpses, dead men. There was none, no matter how much time I waited and watched.

From desiring to survive, to fighting for my life, wanting to be rescued, and now left alone or so it seemed, what a turnabout in fears and attitude.Being uncomfortable with the new idea that I was the lone person left alive on the island…No that could not be right, there had to be one other survivor - the last one to wield a sword or fire a gun.

Now I was afraid of being alone!

As I kept a keen eye open for any movement in the clearing or beach, I was also checking out my ragged clothing and appearance, both of which had not fared well, when I had been forced by circumstance to cling to the underside of the figurehead for some days. With the constant soaking of my trousers and shirt in salt water, these had weathered and been torn to start with, but now they were quite frankly rags. My leather belt had long since been eaten away, and replaced with a simple length of line. This was what held up my ripped trousers in place, as well as my new found weapons.

Two good quality pistols, a light straight sword, and broad bladed main gauche.
I had to make plans on how I was going to proceed forward from today. I needed a safe refuge and supplies of water and food.

Then I could see about anything else that may arise.

The cave entrance was 5 feet wide and about 7 feet tall. With a gallery leading into the rock for some 20 paces to a slight turn to the left, where the gallery opened up to a roomier cavern of about 40 by 60 feet and perhaps 10 feet to the ceiling of smooth stone. The floor was dry everywhere but the furthest corner of the back wall where a six foot round pool of clear water was replenished by a very small waterfall from the wall behind it. The loose sand and small stones of the floor had no clutter of leaves or other debris.

I knew that this could be a fine refuge from the storms that may whip and scourge the rest of the island. Going back to the entrance ledge, and looking down to the beach, There was so much to do.

I went down to the beach edge to plan and have a relaxing swim in the warm water. Going down the trail, I ducked into the tangle of undergrowth and swiftly made my way to the clearing, only to notice that the clinging smell was stronger now.

With my hand over my nose and mouth, I crept into the clearing carefully stepping over men’s forms and looking closely for some sign of life. There was none, stooping to pick up a cutlass that appeared too large for my 15 year old hand. I looked for a pistol as well. They were just lying about on the ground some clasped in dead fingers, some not.

Picking up one and stuffing it in my waist band and then another, checking to see if it was still loaded and primed. The bodies had not moved and seemed to show a path into the jungle that some of the others may have followed.Slowly, and quietly I followed the path of dead men, to the point where the rock cone started to rise up and there in the face was a smaller cave with bodies strewn about the entrance.

Cautiously, I moved closer and saw that this seemed to be the place where the desperate fight had come to an end. For here is where the Captain's body lay with dead men around him and one laying across his body, a knife in one hand in the act of plunging it into the chest of the Captain, who's back was propped up inside the mouth of the cave. Standing there among the dead, I came to realize that they indeed had fought to the last man. And none were left alive.

What was I to do now?

Alone, stranded, surrounded by dead men, I had to decide what to do, and I had to do it quickly. Because there was no telling when another ship would pass this way, see the beached Pucell Princess and investigate, finding me, the treasure and all these dead men. The conclusion would not be in my favor.

Coming up with a plan was a whole lot easier than executing it.

There my eyes beheld the aftermath of a few desperate days that had followed the grounding and broaching of the Pucell Princess. There she lay a short way out in the shallow waters of the small bay. Laying like a toy boat on her starboard side the whole main deck visible to me, because she had ground so hard on the reef of coral under her, and still with her sails set and the surf pounding upon her stern that she had broached turning sideways and tilting crazily from the forces working on her masts and hull.

I would need to use the raft that the corsairs had used to bring the chests and barrels ashore, bringing in the stores and provisions that I could salvage from the once proud and beautiful ship. I plotted a course of action for the next few hours and made a mental list of the items that I would need and where on the ship, I could find them. I was planning to use as much of the ship as I could to create a shelter for myself to live in, that would require some detailed planning and hard work.

There was so much to do and I had to get most of it done before the worst weather settled in, in a month or so. It was coming on to hurricane season in these latitudes and I meant to be fully prepared for them. It also meant that with those storms there was a better than even chance that whatever I couldn’t salvage for my use from the ship would be smashed and dashed to pieces once the first hurricane swept ashore.

I would strip the dead of what weapons I could use, being smaller I could only use the pistols and some of the smaller swords and knives, fortunately the Captain had a very nice small rapier with a thinner blade and a lighter heft than the other larger clumsy cutlasses and swords. Then I would transport all the treasure but one chest of silver pieces to my cave higher up the cliff face.

Then as time allowed, I would strip the Pucell Princess of everything I could possibly use, both now and in the future. Again moving everything up to my cave, which I had begun to be thought of as my new home.

Then arrange a concealment scheme so that my cave could become invisible to any and all passersby by ship and on foot. In case some ship of dubious intent did come by and did investigate, they would find the broken bones of the Pucell Princess, and the skeletons of dead men along with the reason they were all dead, a chest of silver about to be hidden in a cave.

Figuring that they must have had a falling out among themselves and ended up killing everyone. These investigators would take possession of the chest and think themselves fortunate and leave. If on the other hand the ship that appeared to investigate was a merchant or honest man of war, then I had the option to appear and declare myself the survivor of this ship wreck, and so be rescued. I could then come back at some future time to claim my fortune, and end up keeping most of it.

With these thoughts in my mind I set to.

And soon I had the gold stowed in my cave along with the various barrels and chests, boxes and bags. (Of which I will give a fuller account later.) Along one long wall of my cavern these things were stacked and piled. I did leave behind one chest overflowing with silver pesos.

From then on, I avoided the killing grove and the cave with the Captain reclining in the entrance. Moving on from there, I designed a clever method of concealing the path to my cavern. Plants and smaller entanglements placed strategically along with what appeared to be a solid wall of vegetation further up. Then repairing to the entrance to my home I looped ships rope around the tops of the palms and bent them and secured them to the rock face around my ledge, then made a slanting roof of live creepers to provide shade and concealment for the mouth of my cavern.

This worked out very well when I checked the view from the tilted deck of the Pucell Princess. It looked like the jungle climbed up the side of the cone, completely covering the entrance to my snug home.

All this time I had kept a weather eye open on the horizon, looking for ships that may be passing near my island.

But, there were none, for now at least.

Stripping the Pucell Princess, took longer than I had expected, for there was a very great amount of supplies that I thought I could use. Starting with weapons, I pulled some of the calverns, swivel cannons mounted on the ships rails, used for sweeping the decks of other ships with small grape shot. I mounted these and another small six pounder cannon around the ledge of Hidden Brook, the name I had given to my new home. I moved many barrels of gunpowder and shot into the cavern, as well as some of the rifles and carbines I found in the ships armory. Flints for the firearms and steel sections needed to start fires, were stored in many places to be at hand when needed.

A rack of hatchets and swords with as many tools and implements as I could find.
As much silverware and cutlery as I could pick up on the Princess. I generally took it all and sorted the best for use by myself. The next place to search were the cabins of the Pucell Princess, starting with the Captain’s. There I found a trove of useful items, Telescope and sextant, many, many books and charts, pens and inks. I took all the books as well as the shelves that held them.

A fine table of solid oak and chairs, a desk and many more furnishings. As well as a wonderful bed, that I decided must be mine. So I took it apart piece by piece and moved it to my new home, reassembling it along with all the bed linens and comforters, furs and silks, pillows and posts. There was even a mirror that I could pry off the cabin bulkhead and move to the wall of my new bedroom.

There were also many glasses, decanters, plates, and table ware to move to my new home. The other cabins yielded some items of use a chess set and cards, belts and various odds and ends. But one thing I could not find was clothes that fit me, everything was of a larger size than I, and shoes included-- for mine were wearing thin after everyday wear and heavy use during this time, to say nothing of being submerged in salt water for a good portion of time.

I took sections of teak decking to my new home and laid down a solid wood floor in the cavern, covering everyplace right up to the lip of my small pool in the back of the place, whole wall sections that had cabinets to use, so I could subdivide my space into rooms for various purposes, I even had put up a section of wall custom fit to the opening with a door in it to keep out the worst wind and rain.

There were hanging lamps and barrels of oil. Cookware and pots and pans, everything I could remove from the galley, including the cooking stove. The hold of the Princess was another matter, being that the ship was tilted about 50 degrees out of horizontal made it difficult to maneuver things about, but with time and a desire to get as much as was possible ashore, I managed. The food stuffs were first, then the oil barrels, water barrels and casks of wine as well as bottles, the boxes of ships biscuits was last. After all I did have a supply of fresh fruits and vegetables as well as meat on the island.

Then there were all the clothes and bolts of cloth that they had plundered from merchant ships they had taken, so I just took them all and moved loads of boxes to my Hidden Brook home. Cases of shoes and leather goods that it got so tedious to look what was what, that I just took it all and shipped it ashore. These tasks had of course taken some weeks to accomplish, but when everything was done, and I had gotten as much as I could get out of and, off of the Pucell Princess.

I knew that I was going to be all right snug in my new comfortable home furnished with almost every convenience I could hope for. During these weeks that had passed, I had been driven by the knowledge that soon the hurricane season would be upon me and that if I failed to make myself self-sufficient I would be dead with the first storm that came my way. I decided to take a day off once I had completed all the items that I had chosen to do.

So the very first day that was to be a leisure day was decided upon. When I had set up a hammock on the ledge of Hidden Brook, slung between the top of one tall palm and the rock face, so that swinging in a cool breeze was as easy as could be. A book and a glass of wine on the table beside me, both I had salvaged from the Princess as well.

The sky over head had been cloudless all these weeks, was now filled with racing forms that shifted and grew darker by the moment. The foul weather was rolling in very quickly. The wind was picking up and rising in velocity.
Rain started to fall but not straight down, driven by the wind it slanted down and stung sharply. It was coming, these were the first signs.

It could be a tropical storm or a full blown hurricane, not that I minded, one way or the other, I knew that I was as prepared as I was going to be. It got darker and darker, the rain increasing, the wind blowing me around in the hammock as it bent the palm tree and jerked me back and forth. I abandoned the ledge after taking down the hammock and releasing the palm to prevent any damage the whipping tree might cause.

I took shelter inside, closing the door but leaving the small window in the center open to allow some fresh air in. moving back to the pool I noticed that the flow had increased and was over running the lip of the pool to run under the floor boards in a channel I had cut in the stone floor for just this purpose, to take the overflow and let it run out under the floor and down the cliff face harmlessly.

I decided to enjoy a soak in my pool so removing my ratty and torn clothing, I sank down to the installed bench to rest with my back supported and a glass of wine nearby. Brooding on the clothing situation was depressing, as I had said earlier I had not found any clothes that would fit me in any of the cabins of the Pucell Princess. Moreover, I was thinking hard of what I was to do when I did get out of this tepid water to dress.

I knew that many of the boxes stacked in my storage room held clothes taken from the hold of the Princess, but had not had the time or inclination to search through them to see what was usable and what was not. Well, with the storm outside, now seemed an ideal time to do something about this situation.
I had found some robes in the Captain’s cabin that I could use. A bit long for me, and made from silk so at least they felt good next to my skin. They swept behind me like a dress, even if I wrapped them about myself. So that is what I had put on and wrapped around me, when I left the pool to light the lamps in my darkened chambers.

The wind outside had begun to howl and moan, I could hear the rain as well hitting the door and lashing the fronds of the palm trees. Moving back to the storage area with a lamp in hand, I looked at the myriad number of boxes to search.

They filled my storage room from teak floor to as high as I could stack them, there must have been two hundred of those small crates. Selecting one randomly from the top of the stack, I opened it to find a silken array of different colored ladies underskirts. I put these aside, thinking that I would just have to find the correct box and then put these into the box I found with male clothing in it. The next box had been packed with neatly folded pantaloons and chemises. I grabbed the next one down and found hats and parasols, button down shoes and boots.

Frantic now I tore the lid off another box and looked in mute horror, at two lovely dresses that would have made any fine young lady proud as a peacock.
Another box opened, only to find a series of fine whale boned corsets and stay lace garments in many colors and sizes.

I sat down heavily on a cushioned chair.

Staring around at the many parcels not opened yet and wondering if indeed there was an entire wardrobe waiting for me there.

Then I knew for certain that my true treasure didn’t lay back there in the gold and silver and gems, but here with the laces, silks and satins, corsets, chemises and stockings of these boxes.
Oh god it’s starting all over again, I thought I had escaped all this…I had tried to put this all behind me …Why me?

You wouldn’t have believed me if I had just come out and told you. I did flee from home, but not for the reasons that you would ordinarily think of. My mother was a gracious woman and didn’t beat me or anything like that. I was not put to work or hard labor. As a matter of fact my life had been “sheltered” if you wanted to think of it like that.

My family was well off, from inheritance at least. But as the youngest and smallest of six boys, I had begun to wonder about my Mother and Father. They seemed to be very disagreeable these days when ever they looked at me I got the feeling that they were disappointed in me in some way. All right, I was only 4’ 10’’ and all my older brothers were well above a foot taller than I was.

Yes, I was a little thin and small muscled for a boy, but I was still young and would bulk up and grow strong. Mother and father just didn’t see it that way, I know that mother was disappointed that I was a male, she had told me when I was seven that she and father had really wanted a girl this last time, but she had given birth to a boy, the sixth in a row. That was the reason that when I was younger I had to wear what was provided me.

I didn’t know any better, she didn’t let me go outside and play with the neighbor boys or my brothers , they were told to let me be and Mother would take care of me, somehow I even think that they were told that I was a girl right when I was born.

That meant while I was still little I was dressed in very pretty dresses for little girls complete with petticoats and silken slippers, my head adorned with bonnets covering my lovely curls. I did not know any different because I had no exposure to anyone different, my brothers never played rough with me or teased me. I really think because my Mother and Father threatened them.

Therefore, by the time I was 15 I looked like a beautiful young girl all prim and proper in a satin dress and long curled hair, light cosmetics applied. This was not anything different for me until that day that my cousin had come over to have tea with my Mother and I. She was brimming with news she said, she was engaged to be married, to a handsome young Count from Walshingford.

She was so excited, and proud that she was getting married. A short time after tea we were in my room alone resting with our corsets loosened, when she began to tell me the ‘facts of life’. I, after leading a very sheltered life was shocked and dismayed of the things she related to me, how it was done and where everything fitted.

No, those things cannot be true I thought to myself, because I did not have one of those, I had the other, smaller yes but very definitely a boy’s thing. Latter when I had a talk with my Mother who looked aghast and then burst into tears, I knew it was true. Having found out this enormous revelation, I too was shocked, my life wasn’t true, it wasn’t mine.

It was someone else’s; my whole family had lied to me, for years. It was enormous for me, I lay in bed in a lovely chemise of silk and bows, wondering what will happen now?

Sleep did not come easily that night, and when the dawn’s early rays filtered into my lace curtained girls room, I awoke from a restless slumber.

I couldn’t understand it, why did they do this to me, I’m a boy not a girl.
Why me?