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man crouched down opposite me and looked into my eyes. There was a cold anger in his own eyes that made me quail, and I stopped mid-scream and froze as he drew a long sheath knife from his belt. ‘In case you’re wondering, I’m the one known as Hard-Head Bill,’ he said menacingly.
    My heart hammered in terror. I was certain he was going to kill me there and then. He grasped a handful of my waist-length hair with one powerful hand, twisting it. Then he reached up his knife and sliced hard across it. I whimpered in shock as my beautiful golden hair showered over the cabin floor among the fragments of broken glass.
    Bill raised the knife again and threatened me with it. ‘I’ll remind you, I was one of them as wanted you dead,’ he said slowly and deliberately. ‘I ain’t changed my mind. I’m in charge of this ship for the rest of the day. So you’ll shut it, or you’ll feel the edge of this knife.’
    Bill clearly didn’t doubt that I’d comply with his order, for he got up and left, turning the key behind him. I crouched on the floor in silence, aware of the pounding of my heart and the trembling of my limbs. I’d never, in the course of my short life, come up against anyone who had cowed my will and forced my obedience. But I wasn’t inclined to try him any further. I believed his threat. I got up, trembling with shock and indignation.
    My right knee was cut and bleeding, and I dabbed at it with a cloth I found by the washstand. My hands shook pitifully. I touched my hair, hardly able to believe what the brute had done to me. Half of it was still long and half now only reached to my shoulder.
    I stayed silent and furious but too frightened to object, as the long hours of the day passed. I heard the men come and go, goods being loaded aboard and at last the crew cast off and sailed out to sea once more. My first visit to France had passed with no more sight of Cherbourg than the view of the quay.
    I was hungry, thirsty, and very bored when the key eventually rattled in the lock, and the cabin door swung open. I lay quite still on the bunk where I’d passed the last few hours. ‘Get up,’ ordered a voice. I deliberately turned away to face the wall. These men were brutes. They needn’t think they could just order me about like a servant.
    I shouldn’t have been surprised to be dragged backwards out of the bunk by two firm hands under my arms. I landed in an undignified heap with a shriek of indignation. ‘How dare you … ’ I began, but Will laughed harshly.
    ‘You ought to be learning by now that we’re not your servants. You are now the most junior crew member on board,’ he said. ‘That means you do as you’re told. Get used to it and stop bleating like the spoiled brat you are.’
    ‘I’m not spoiled,’ I retorted.
    ‘Ha!’ said Will, folding his arms, his mouth set in an uncompromising line. He stared at me in silence for a moment, and then added: ‘You’re a particularly spoiled, indulged, arrogant rich girl, and you have a great deal to learn if you want to live long on board this ship.’
    He waited to see if I would reply. I was furious at his brutal appraisal, but sought to retain my dignity with a chilling silence, fixing my gaze on a point to the left of him.
    ‘Good,’ Will said. He picked up a broom from just outside the door and handed it to me. ‘First, you are going to clean up the mess you’ve made.’ I glared at him, while he waited. I had no intention of demeaning myself. ‘I would get on with it if I were you,’ he advised unsympathetically. ‘For there’ll be no food for you until it’s done.’
    ‘You won’t dare to starve me!’ I retorted angrily.
    Will raised his brows and looked at me in incredulous silence. I knew that he was right; there were many men on board who’d be more than happy to let me starve. Furiously, I snatched up the brush and carelessly swept the glass into a pile. Then I picked it up, piece by piece, taking care not to cut myself,