Being a stowaway is not supposed to be easy. She knew that. She was perfectly aware that she was making a decision that would greatly affect her safety and comfort maybe for the rest of her life. But staying behind in England would have been far worse. Why? Because she was too much. They were too many. Rachel lived in an orphanage and they would soon kick her out on her own. If she had been a man she could have gone to work, but she had been born a wretched woman. And under her circumstances that basically meant that if she couldn't get married quick, she'd end up a prostitute. Well, no one wants to marry a plain poor girl. It's not that she was not attractive at all. It's that she was not attractive enough. Considering how poor she was, literally without a penny to her name. Who wants to marry some plain Jane with absolutely nothing? No one. So her options were wearing thin because she sure wasn't about to prostitute herself.

Then she heard about The New World. A ship was to leave soon with able-bodied men to establish a colony in the wild land. They would all work together and be rationed food provided for the voyage. Well she'd seen some of the boys to go on that ship and they sure weren't able-bodied. It got her thinking that even she could do about as much as they could. But no one would accept her aboard. She had to make a decision. This was an opportunity. Her only chance at escaping her horrible circumstances. If they wouldn't accept her aboard, which they wouldn't, she'd just sneak on. That could end well or really really badly, because there was a chance they'd find her and toss her overboard, or worse. The night before the ship left she still hadn't made her decision. She walked to where the ship was harbored and just looked at it. This would be a huge risk, but it might be her only choice. Life in London just wasn't desirable. Surrounded by the filth and stench of the city, her future might consist only of lying on her back every night for her daily bread. That was no life at all. Maybe death would be better. She shook her head. This was nonsense. Walking back toward the orphanage, she overheard some drunken young men laughing heartily about the coming voyage. Their excitement in their eyes shone through the drunken haze.

"We'll come back rich men." One said.

"Aye, and the world will bow to us with all our gold." Rachel's heart throbbed with the deep hunger of such a dream just beyond her reach. If only she had been a man.

"Sure, sure if only the savages don't kill you all." Said a third, disgruntled man.

"You don't believe that Cliff. They don't stand a chance against us, so long as we have John Smith on our side."

"Smith is going?"

"Aye. We've nothing to fear from a bunch of red skinned devils. Smith's killed more Indians than you've ever dreamed could be had."

"Sure, he's had some luck," agreed the unhappy one, "but as many as he's killed, it's nothing compared to how many there are. A country full of savages. Behind ever tree, beneath ever bush. You think you'll survive to stay there? Just a meager crew of gold hunters? Nay. They'll have your hides."

Somehow the talk of the savages excited Rachel. She felt a rush of adrenaline and a strong desire to see these fearsome people. Her heart pounded violently in her chest. It was strange. What had come over her? Yet she couldn't keep herself from feeling a strange, but strong desire to take part in the excitement these men obviously felt. She'd never been outside of London, never seen any other land, any other people, any other clothing, or architecture, or food. These people would be different in every way. She longed to see them, to learn about them, just to admire their world. She knew what she had to do.

Getting into the ship was harder than she had thought. Though it was anchored right next to where she stood, she could see no way of getting up to it. The streets were empty now, for it was very late, but she still felt foolish trying to climb the high sides. What if she fell into the water? She couldn't swim. Stepping up another foot or so her skirts caught on the toe of her shoe and she almost lost her balance, but she pulled through. When she finally threw herself onto the hard, cold wood of the deck, all she could do was lie there and pant heavily for a solid few minutes. Finally, she lifted herself up and looked around.

Somewhere around here there must have been a door or something leading into the cabins of the ship, where she would find somewhere to hide. When she found it, it was locked. Rachel silently thanked the horrible woman who ran the orphanage for using lots of locks, which encouraged the girls to learn how to break into them. Below, she found ghastly quarters for the sailors and plenty of supplies for the trip and establishing a colony. Moving the boxes and barrels just so, she arranged herself comfortably on the floor and fell asleep.

The ground was moving, or she was moving, something was moving. She couldn't tell. Her stomach rose up into her throat then fell down and her cheek rubbed roughly against the cold hard floor. What was happening? Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and trying to make sense of her surroundings, Rachel remembered where she was. They were on their way. Her stomach lurched. It was too late to turn back now. So how long should she wait until she showed herself? What if they turned back and gave her over to the authorities back on land? Could everything be for nothing? What if they didn't, and instead they just tossed her overboard? It was no longer in her hands. She might die aboard this ship. The thoughts whirled around in her head making her dizzy. Or maybe that was just because of the sea. She was going to be sick. No. She couldn't do that because she couldn't go up to the surface right now and she certainly didn't want to make a mess in the middle of the supplies. Luckily she hadn't eaten anything for a while, but she could still feel bile rising in her throat. No no no no no! This was not how it was supposed to go.

Standing slowly and covering her mouth, Rachel hurried toward the door. As she burst into the hall, the ship leaned pulling her with it. She tried to cross the hall to the quarters, but lost her balance and ran into the wall. Hugging a beam in the middle of the room, she was able to steady herself and her stomach enough to stop and think about her surroundings. She almost had to laugh at her luck. They were in the middle of a storm. She could hear thunder and shouting on deck as men ran about securing her safe haven. None were down below. She sank to the ground, still hugging the beam to her desperately and stayed there for hours as the waves tossed the ship. Even in the midst of this turmoil, she did not regret her decision to stow away. Had she stayed in London, she never would have experienced this adventure, this rush of adrenaline. She never would have felt this excitement. She never would have appreciated the comfort of a pole to keep her in one place. And this would end soon. Then she would have a life at least different from the drab and dreary life of a poor orphan in a dirty city. Hopefully she would be able to escape life as a prostitute.

She was not a virgin. Almost none of the orphans her age were. Of course, most of them were prostitutes in some way or another. She had had affairs, just a few, just enough. Boys with little experience, still unable to control their desires, like birds that had just learned to fly. It had never been for love, just for attention and affection. Something she had never had. She couldn't remember her parents and had never had any sisters or brothers. The other orphan girls were her friends, but also her enemies. They could not be trusted. It was a cruel world and everyone fended for herself. Stealing was common, even between the closest girls. Rachel was sick of girls. She was sick of pubescent boys. She was sick of mean old women who treated a houseful of young girls like slaves and trash to be thrown out on the street. Maybe, then it was best that she was on a ship full of men. She didn't really have any grown men in her acquaintance. No one had yet spoiled her opinion of them as a whole. Perhaps, in this way, she could start anew. She could be a new person. She could enjoy life as a new story. There would be a new setting and new characters and maybe this one would have a happy ending.

Her eyes snapped open. Drool leaked onto the pole to which she was still clinging tightly. She had been in a very light sleep. But now there were footsteps and men's voices coming this way, down the hall. Her heartbeat quickened. Wiping the drool from her chin, she scurried to the back corner of the room and curled into a ball, hoping they wouldn't see her. The storm was quieting down quickly and the waves no longer tossed her about. Rather, they lulled her like a cradle and she felt like she could have fallen back to sleep.

But she was freezing and wet and the men were coming. There were only two: a tall blond man and a shorter redhead. The blond man was larger and older. He seemed very strong and confident. The other was younger, weaker, barely a man. Rachel could hardly tell if he wasn't still just a boy. They were both soaking wet and wearing blankets around their shoulders. The older one carried a candle which he hooked into a candleholder on the wall by the door.

"I can't thank you enough John." The younger one said.

"Forget about it Thomas." The older one replied. "I'm sure you would have done the same for me." Without looking back at his comrade, he pulled sopping shirt off and began to pull off his boots. The other turned shyly away from his superior and began to undress as well. Rachel could feel herself blushing and wanted to look away, but she was curious. These men were older than the boys she had seen. Their bodies were fully developed and beautiful. She shook her head. That's how her older sisters at the orphanage would have been thinking. But all of them were whores now. She felt an unsuspected tear suddenly roll from her eye. Was she damaged beyond repair? Had her upbringing changed her for the worse? It was so unfair. All men were allowed to think about sex and it was understandable that they have certain urges. But women could not without being considered whores. The men were dressed and she expected them to leave, but they each seated themselves in different hammocks and rested without talking, but without going to sleep.

What if they never left? She couldn't wait until the rest of the men came down and noticed her. And anyway there was no chance they would turn back now after the hell the ship had just been through. Maybe she should get it all over with and show herself to them. But that was easier said than done. She couldn't seem to bring herself to stand up. Besides that, they would know she had been there when they undressed and then any hope of a good reputation would be lost. But what if they found her asleep? Quietly she sank to the floor and stretched out, then sighed convincingly. The two men startled.

"What was that?"

"I dunno. I'll go see." Her heartbeat quickened as his footsteps neared her. "My God it's a girl!"

"What?" The other's footsteps shuffled quickly to her side. "how did she get here?"

"Must be a stow away."

"Well what are we going to do about her? We can't just leave her here. But what will Ratcliff do if he finds out? My God she could be killed!"

"Don't worry Thomas. Even Ratcliff isn't that cruel. But maybe we could just hide her from him. I dunno. It's a big risk." There were footsteps in the hall and the men gasped then sighed. "Oh it's just you Ben."

"What's going on? What are you two up to? Oh my God! What the hell?!"

"SSSHHHHH!!!!" the other two cut him off.

"We just found her here." Said the soft, kind voice of the one they called Thomas.

"A stow away." Added John. "We don't know what to do with her. Poor thing has probably been through hell. But why would she choose to do this?"

"Maybe it was an accident." Thomas chimed in.

"Wasn't no accident." Replied John.

"Ok so what do we do about her? Maybe if we dress her like a man, Ratcliff will never know the difference."

"Not with those breasts." Said Ben. Rachel almost twitched with shock and felt her cheeks growing warm with a deep blush. She silently gave thanks for the lack of light in the dim chamber.

"Maybe we better wake her." Said Thomas.

"Wait!" whispered John. He hesitated. "Ok wake her up." There was silence. No one did anything. "What are you waiting for?"

"Well," squirmed Thomas, "I don't really know where to touch her. Everywhere seems too inappropriate." John exhaled in aggravation. His warm, tough hand landed on her shoulder, startling her.

"Wake up." He breathed gently. Before she had the chance to open her eyes his hand was on her cheek. His contact made a warm sensation form in the pit of her stomach. She opened her eyes, feigned surprise and cowered away from the men, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. She felt more comfortable now that she was not exposed to them. "It's ok. We're not going to hurt you. What's your name?" She hesitated, pretended to judge him cautiously, then replied.

"Rachel."

"Rachel." He repeated. His cool blue eyes held a warm kindness and her stomach prickled to hear her name on his tongue. "I'm John Smith." John Smith? That was familiar. She almost gasped aloud. This was the famous John Smith? Her cheeks and stomach burned as she struggled to hold his gaze. "And this is Thomas and Ben."

"Nice to meet you." Said the sweet, smooth voice of the young redhead as he removed his cap. His brown eyes did not stand out but when she looked into them, they were looking right into hers. She couldn't hold back a smile. Ben nodded at her looking more disgruntled than pleased. She turned her eyes back to John Smith.

"Well we don't really have time for stories right now, but we need to make some decisions. What are we going to do with you?"

"I don't know." Said Rachel feeling foolish for causing these men so much stress. "If you can just hide me away I promise not to cause any problems."

"And what about when we reach the New World? Ratcliff is bound to find out eventually." Said Thomas looking worried. John was deep in thought.

"Not necessarily. We have more than a hundred men. Ratcliff keeps to himself a lot and I'll be damned if he joins in the work. We might could pull it off. It would be better than turning her in."

"Aye. He's got a point there." Ben added. "Old Ratcliff's not one for charity."

"The rest of the men would know of course. There'd be no keeping it from them." Planned John. "So what do you men think? Should we hide her away or put her in men's clothes?"

"I told you, there'll be no disguising her." Said Ben.

"Ratcliff's not going to pay her any attention. If we just cut this hair off…"

"No! Not my hair!" cried Rachel. Smith looked irritated.

"Women." He groaned. "Ok perhaps we could just bundle it all into a hat. And give you some thick clothing. All she needs is a nice jacket. He'll never notice. But, like I said, we'll have to tell the others." Rachel felt a swell of gratitude as the men went about looking for clothes for her to wear. No one had ever shown her such kindness. As more men filtered in little by little, they were told of the plan. There were no problems because apparently no one really liked Ratcliff very much and had no trouble going behind his back. Especially, it seemed, for a woman. Over the course of the night, she was never left alone. Everyone was so nice to her. It was like nothing she had ever experienced.

As the weeks went by, the novelty of having a woman on the ship wore off and most of the men stopped paying her attention once they realized they weren't getting anywhere with her. But some still talked to her, including Thomas. He was always there for her. Their hammocks were right next to each other and they often had long personal conversations deep into the night. Rachel imagined life back at the orphanage and thanked God that she had made the right decision. Life was good now. Better than it ever had been. She wished it would stay the way it was and never change. But change is always inevitable.