I looked on in horror at what had just happened. All my attempts to keep my true identity secret had been snatched from me in that one cold moment when Charles Wild, Skipper of the Golden Eagle, grabbed my shirt and it came away in his hands.
His eyes focused on the bindings that held my breasts in place to give the impression I was a boy. I saw the lust in his eyes and realised I could no longer hide under the name of Jack Jones. My greater fear was that I would be exposed as Rose Turner; eighteen year old daughter of Robert Turner hanged, drawn and quartered by the King's men for refusing to recognise Anne Boleyn as the lawful Queen of England.
As Wild stared at me I knew I was faced with a choice. I could either come willingly to his bed or he would hand me over to the authorities as soon as we returned to London. Without a shadow of a doubt I would die a painful death because not only was I a Catholic, I had also killed one of Cromwell's men when they came into our home to arrest my father.
The King had passed a decree that anyone who would not accept the validity of his marriage to Anne Boleyn and his authority as head of the Church in England would be guilty of high treason. Already Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher had paid with their lives and now anyone who publicly shared their views was in danger.
London was a difficult place to grow up in and I recall how I used to be teased by other girls because of how I dressed. I had always been what you could term a "Tomboy" dressing in boys clothes because I found dresses hindered me when playing boy's games. I remember my father once chiding me for being too unfeminine and telling me I would never get a husband or have children to ease the loss brought upon him when my mother died giving birth to me. I remember turning on him and saying "Dad, that's not me. I'm not that type of girl."
My Father was a Tanner who made his living turning leather into sandals and saddles which, from the age of twelve I would take to the market to sell.
Children can be cruel when they sense someone is different to them. Often I would come home to find rubbish had been tipped into our garden and I had to clean it. On other occasions the boys would try to disrupt my work and that is how I learned to fight. Many times my father would be visited by angry parents whose son had been given a black eye by his daughter. We made enemies that way and those enemies were swift to inform on my father's views.
One afternoon I came home from market to find the King's men at our house. My father was already in chains and I knew I would soon follow. Seeing a large stone on the ground I picked it up and threw it at one of the men holding my father. I can still hear the crack as his skull opened like an egg shell and blood and brains gushed from the wound as he fell to the ground dying. My father shouted for me to run and I managed to escape to a side tavern where I hid in the cellar for days feeding on the foul rubbish tipped onto the floor by those who ate there. I was fourteen years old, homeless and orphaned.
One of the customers was Charles Wild and one night I overheard him saying he needed a new cabin boy. In the cellar I found some bindings with which I bound my growing breasts firmly beneath my shirt and as Wild was leaving I stepped out and approached him. He looked at me seriously and for a moment I thought he had discovered my secret. He asked my age and questioned why didn't even have any facial stubble.
Then said he didn't care what I looked like as long as I could do the work. He hired me for one voyage to Calais to see how I worked. He must have been impressed because I stayed for four years. During that time my body completed its transformation. My breasts grew even larger so my bands became tighter and every month I had to endure my monthly cycle while ensuring there was no evidence.
Sometimes when we were in port the men would go ashore chasing women or visiting the brothels. Many times I was encouraged to join them but I was able to make an excuse by saying I needed the money to save for my wedding to a fictitious girl.
While others went ashore I earned extra money by washing the decks and cleaning Wild's quarters. I cooked for him, cleaned for him and slept in a hammock above his bed every night as he brought different women into his bed and satisfied his lust. He had no shame and would tell his whores I was the only virgin in his crew and was allowed to watch so I could get a worldly education. Sometimes he would ask me if I wanted to share one of his women but respected me when I said I only had desires for one girl.
