But then Joe saw that the jostling among the boys on the quayside had turned nasty. Fist fights broke out. Joe noticed that all of the boys had bruised and scarred faces and arms. Their clothes were in tatters and they were all skin and bones. He began to think that maybe he had over romanticized the idea of being on the streets of New York. His governess scowled at the scrum of boys. “Come along young lady you must get your things from the cabin.”
As Joe approached the gang plank, still under the watchful gaze of his aunt and governess, men were beating the boys back with rods trying to clear a safe passage for the arrivals. Joe could see bloody noses and it looked like one of the boys had broken an arm.
He was pushed down the gangplank by those behind him. He couldn’t see the steps beneath his voluminous petticoats. He clung desperately to the rope with one hand as he felt his way in his high heeled boots while the other hand held on to his bonnet in the breeze.
The scrum of boys shoved forward just as he reached the quayside. Joe clutched his skirts afraid that the filthy and bloody boys might soil his pink dress or bloomers. Something like that would get him into trouble with his governess and he wasn’t quite free of her just yet.
Joe grimaced as the boys snatched out in front of him before being beaten back. He scampered behind his aunt who was heading for a coach. He was desperate to get in but had to gather his petticoats, climb the steps and force the layers of petticoats through the narrow door. The boys behind were treated to a fine display of frills right up the legs of his bloomers as he leaned in.
He was relieved to be seated in the coach. His aunt and governess squeezed in the same side. Joe had to gather up his petticoats to make room. A lady sat opposite and smiled at the frills on his bloomers. “What a pretty dress!” Joe winced inwardly. Not long to go now. His aunt nudged him. He smiled as sweetly as he could and squeaked “Thank you” before hiding behind the wide brim of his bonnet, looking out the window.
He watched as the streets went by. Each was full of vagrant boys just like those at the dockside – running and fighting and filthy. They had to run another gauntlet of street boys when they arrived at their lodgings. Joe almost fell down the steps of the coach as his petticoats finally lurched through the door. Once again he had to clutch his petticoats to escape the hands of the street boys before rushing in the door to a very welcome peace and quiet.
Once the governess had left them, his aunt called him into her bedroom. There on the bed were a set of boy’s clothes. A shirt, trousers, socks and shoes. Joe was practically salivating but remembered to curtsey.
“So you are no longer beholden to me. You are free to go back to being a boy and take your chances out on the street.” Joe winced, thinking of the violent rabble he had seen. He would be no match for those boys – especially having spent 8 weeks flouncing around a ship in frilly dresses, bonnet and bloomers, spending half the day sewing and the other half playing with dolls or skipping.
He so desperately wanted to get out of these dresses and into those trousers. “Do I have to go out on the streets?” he asked meekly. “That’s what you wanted wasn’t it? That’s where you would be if you had successfully completed the voyage as a stowaway, isn’t it?” He couldn’t deny it.
She saw his hesitation. “Or you can continue to be my niece Emily at least until my daughter gets here. But you have to be totally obedient and do what I say and wear what I choose.” Joe cringed. He could get back into trousers but he would be beaten to a pulp by those young vagabonds. Or he could continue to mince around in frilly dresses and be well fed, sheltered and looked after.
Joe clutched his petticoats nervously. He wouldn’t survive on the streets. “Well which is it?” She wasn’t giving him time to think. He lowered his head demurely hiding behind the frills of his bonnet. “I don’t want to go out on the streets”, he muttered. He couldn’t bring himself to say that he preferred to wear dresses. “Well then you have to ask nicely and show me your best curtsey.” Joe winced.
He gathered his petticoats and gave a deep curtsey. “Please may I continue to be Emily”, his voice wavered at the end of this mortifying request. “And do you promise to be completely obedient”. His mind thought about the consequences of this. How many even frillier clothes did she have for him? “Yes”, he curtsied again just in case.
She gathered up the boy’s clothes while he looked on whistfully. She was clearly happy to have a ‘girl’ to fuss over. “So let us go to the nearest hairdresser and have your hair put in pretty ringlets.” Joe swallowed hard. She looked sternly at him for a response. “Yes Aunt”, he curtsied again.
When he returned to the house his hair which had grown over the voyage was pressed into firm ringlets which dangled by his eyes and from beneath his bonnet. He was wearing a brand new apricot dress that his aunt had bought him to celebrate their arrival in New York. The rows and rows of frills on his dress danced constantly even in the merest breeze. He dragged along five layers of petticoats which he desperately tried to hold down to hide the lacey hearts sown into the side of the legs of his bloomers. She had found even higher heeled boots that forced him to take cute little steps.
As he approached the house he saw a half dozen filthy, bloody and starving boys with their heads recently shaved. He suddenly appreciated his pretty dress with all its accessories and was even grateful for his ringlets. He hated being dressed up like this but it was better than the alternative he saw before him.
When he went in the door his aunt turned to him. “So do you like your pretty new dress and ringlets?” “Yes”, he responded, smiled faintly and curtsied. He winced slightly at the weight of his extra petticoats but restored his smile just in time. His aunt was clearly pleased. She could see that his faint smile wasn’t as forced as usual.
� Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: Stowaway (Read 22115 times)
