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movement further along the bay where there was a rocky ledge with men, black as ink and naked as newborns, holding spears in the air. She tapped the shoulder of the woman next to her and pointed. The woman jumped. Her screech echoed across the water.
    One of the soldiers turned and scowled. He lifted his hand to strike her but a crash of thunder distracted him. By the time the first long boat reached the shore the rain had started pelting down, lashing the women’s faces and soaking their clothes. Men dragged them from the boats and herded them up the beach. The tents were flapping in the violent wind.
    ‘We’ll lose these before they’re occupied.’ One man held ropes as the canvas strained against the repeated gusts.
    ‘Hold fast,’ another responded. ‘I’ll get more pegs.’
    The women were thrust into the tents. Panic ensued as the gale heightened. Mary could see more women milling on the shore, half hysterical with fright, half delirious with freedom and a sense of solid ground under them.
    Then pandemonium broke out. Men dropped tools and rushed at the women. Within a minute there was an explosion of yelling, laughing, singing, swearing and jostling. Bodies were soon rolling together behind tents. Mary was appalled. She had expected little better from the men, no doubt frustrated by the heat, wind and rain, and deprived of female company. But she'd thought the women had more respect for themselves. Yet they paid no mind to what anyone might see and made no attempt to secure any privacy.
    She watched in horror. A burly soldier, reeking of rum, rushed at her and grabbed her breasts. Her fists came up and she kicked him. She screeched, as he tried to wrestle her to the ground. She bit hard on his ear. He jumped back, grabbing his ear. Mary turned to run but he launched himself at her skirt, which was heavily wet and fouling her attempt to get away. Suddenly she was on the ground, the man’s body pinning her down, his mouth seeking hers, his hands groping at her body. She stopped thrashing at his back with her fists and brought her hands around towards his face. As her fingers dug into his eye sockets, she drew up her knees and pushed as hard as she could. He rolled to the side, cursing her loudly and holding his eyes. It was enough time for Mary to scramble to her feet and run. Within moments she was behind one of the tents, where she stopped to catch her breath. She looked about frantically, readying herself for another attack. Not three feet from her a couple lay in the grass, firmly and happily in each other’s grasp. Their grunts of ecstasy caused Mary to turn away in disgust. She peered around the corner of the tent, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to fight off another aggressor. All around she could see the shapes of entangled bodies, hear the giggling and gasping of men and women, oblivious to all but satisfying their most basic and long deprived urges.
    ‘Uhh, rutting animals,’ Mary hissed into the wind and rain, which were still lashing the tents. She lowered herself to a crouch and crept along the side of the tent, searching for a safer place, determined to escape what seemed a fate worse than prison by far. She moaned inwardly. What on earth had she been brought to? What fate had she been dealt? Surely her sins were not so dastardly that she deserved this end. She paused and glanced up to the dark skies between the thrashing trees.
    ‘If there’s a God in those heavens,’ she murmured, ‘this’d be a good time to show yerself.’ She covered her face as a clap of thunder boomed above her. ‘I’ve done what I could to save meself so far in this miserable life. But I could do with a bit o’ help now, so if you’ve a mind, then I’d…I’d really appreciate it.’ Mary felt tears now mingled with rain running down her face and dripping from her chin. She rarely gave in to crying, though she had to admit she had often felt like having a good howl. Mary knew it would do her no good.