Chapter Two

Time passed. She lost track of the days as they lengthened into weeks, but she could feel that they were getting warmer. She asked the captain about their course. It lay down the coast of Africa, around the Cape and up into the Indian Ocean. Thence they crossed the vast expanse of empty sea before reaching Australia’s western shore. They faced a further long journey around Australia’s southern coast before reaching Sydney. She resolved that she must somehow get word to Lawrence, so that he could keep his spirits up. She imagined him confined in the dank, dark hold, half-starved, beaten perhaps. She did not dare to think about the sort of thing depraved men might do when herded together. Lawrence was a pretty boy; he could not hope to escape the notice of older, stronger men.

Once, while the captain was fucking her from behind, she looked towards the cabin door, which he had in mistake left slightly ajar. Through the crack she could see two eyes staring, the eyes of the cabin boy. When the boy saw that he was spotted, he hurriedly disappeared. But there was no sign that the boy had divulged the secret of her presence. Clearly he went in mortal terror of his master. She had tried again to persuade the captain to let her send a message, but he had refused. She wondered if perhaps she could persuade the cabin boy to take a note. But a boy of that age could scarcely be seduced in the manner in which she had learned to manipulate grown men. What other inducements did she have? She decided to throw herself on the mercy of the cabin boy and simply appeal to him for help. She explained to him what she wanted, that he should simply take a note with Lawrence’s name on it.

The boy looked at her slyly. “What will you give me, miss?”

“I have no money.” It was true she still had some jewels left, but these might be needed for a more desperate occasion. “What can I offer you?”

The boy thought for a moment. “Some of the sailors told me that girls don’t have the thing that boys have. They just have a hole. Show me if it’s true.”

Augusta was taken aback at the depravity of one so young. “For shame,” she said, “you ought not to be thinking about such matters at your age.”

“That’s what I want to see,” he said stubbornly. “It won’t cost you nothing, so let me see it.”

Augusta turned away. “Get out,” she said. “You are a bad boy.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, closing the door behind him. But later she got to thinking. Perhaps if Lawrence heard nothing he would subside into despair. She knew the dangers of that, the loss of hope; she must give him a reason to survive. The next time she was alone with the boy she handed him a note she had written, assuring Lawrence of her presence and that she would never abandon him. She wrote his name clearly on the front.

“Make sure you find the right man,” she said. “He’s young, a pretty boy with dark hair and blue eyes. When you give him the note, ask him to tell you what is my middle name. That way I’ll know you found him.”

She stood in front of the boy and slowly pulled down the trousers she still wore. Underneath she was naked.

“I can’t see prope