I transmigrated as a french soldier during XVIIIth century

This Tuesday, April 18th, was a very dry and hot day, just like the previous two days.

The men aboard the Foudroyant—though it must have been the same story on all the ships in this squadron—were seeking coolness, but that was difficult on a ship. Indeed, while they could find shade on the lower decks, it was usually quite warm there due to the presence of other sailors.

Around Duquesne de Menneville’s squadron, there was nothing but the sea, as deep a blue as the sky. Not a cloud was in sight.

A steady wind from the south was propelling the ships at a good speed, generously filling the large sails that were set. Half of the great ship’s sails had been unfurled, as they needed to avoid creating distance between the vessels.

When the crew wasn’t resting or maintaining the ship, they had to train.

As on the first day, the men practiced loading and reloading the cannons, but this time the gunners were involved. When they had faced the English near Ushant, they had had to work together, and several issues had been noted. The goal now was to eliminate all of them and ensure that every man knew exactly what he had to do.

The same applied to those who were skilled with knots. They had been selected to participate in maneuvers in the rigging and had to learn to identify and handle the ropes.

Soon, Louis was certain, they’ll send us up there!

His gaze drifted to the heights, and he imagined himself gripping the ropes, fighting not to fall while completing his mission.

He wasn’t too bothered by the height. As a child, he liked to climb trees, which was definitely not the case for his friend François. After ten feet (a little over three meters), he completely lost his nerve and froze up. Usually, when he accompanied Louis into the trees, he wouldn’t go more than five feet high.

“Pick it up! Put some muscle into it, soldier!”

Louis snapped out of his thoughts as the bosun passed by, quickening his pace.

He was holding a large hemp rope that went straight to a wide brown pulley connected to the main sail. The more he pulled, the more it unfurled. But because he had slowed down a bit, it hadn’t unfurled evenly.

Immediately, he felt the wind rush into the gigantic square of white fabric, pulling him forward.

“Watch your legs, kid! Your legs! Spread them out more, there you go! Now you’re controlling the sail, not the other way around. Now, tie a bowline over there.”

“Aye, sir!”

“Hold on, I’ll be back. What’s that one doing?! Hey! What are you up to?! Hold that rope! No, don’t let go! I’m warning you, if you let go, you’ll answer to me! Same as Blondie over here, tie me a nice bowline! A bowline, I said! What is that?! That’s better! Good grief! So, Blondie, how’s that knot? Perfect, now furl the mainsail, come on, come on!”

Louis, tense as could be, didn’t have time to rest and immediately got back to work, furling the mainsail.

The effort required every muscle and all his energy. In fact, he didn’t have much left. His entire body ached, and he was terribly thirsty.

In this heat, all he wanted was to cool down. Unfortunately, there was only the sea. If he decided to jump in, he gave himself no more than a few seconds before being swallowed by the waves.

Ah, in Prussia at least, we could cool off in their rivers! Good grief, I stink!

Despite his efforts not to smell too bad—he had increased the number of washes under François’s influence—he still stank just as much. All his clothes were soaked with foul odors. There was the smell of his sweat, of course, but there was always that lingering scent of burnt powder from the terrible battle at Ouessant.

Why does my shirt stink so much?! I washed it four days ago with seawater!

When he finished furling the sail, it was someone else’s turn to train. He stepped away and sniffed his shirt, immediately regretting it.

“Yuck! I need to find something! This is urgent!”

“Something wrong, Louis?” asked Jules, approaching casually.

“Well, I can’t stand my smell anymore. I need to wash, and not just a little.”

“We could make a request, but I’m not sure it’s possible out here at sea. It’s dangerous.”

Louis could only agree. Unless someone was securely tied to a rope, almost no one would dare jump into the water.

Who knows what’s down there? Sea monsters, maybe?

In recent days, they had been able to chat with the sailors on the Foudroyant, and the soldiers of Richelieu quickly realized that these men were eager to share all their adventures!

Jean’s new friend, for example, had told them that once they had caught a huge sea creature, as big as a longboat, with a mouth full of sharp, triangular teeth like razors. He had kept one as a souvenir and made it into a necklace.

When Louis saw it, he immediately imagined the beast. It must have been truly terrifying. Étienne, that was the name of the sailor, had described it as some sort of very large fish, with a triangular fin on its back, making it easy to spot when it swam near the surface. This one was an adult, weighing nearly two thousand pounds! (980 kg)

“Do you think there are animals like the ones Étienne and the others described in these waters?”

“No idea. We can ask the bosun later, but I’m not getting my hopes up. We’d all have to stop to avoid accidents. Not sure the squadron leader will go for that. Especially since the journey is still long.”

Louis could only acknowledge the logic in what Jules said. He would likely have to endure his sweat for another two weeks or more.

As he expected, the officers denied Louis’s request. All he could do was grit his teeth and endure it.

By evening, almost the entire crew was on deck, enjoying the cool air. A light breeze gently caressed them as they washed without any shame.

They used a simple damp cloth and seawater, since, unlike fresh water, it was abundantly available all around them.

Ah! That feels good!

Unlike his comrades, Louis took care to wash almost every part of his body. Beside him, others were much less meticulous, usually satisfied with cleaning just their armpits, arms, and chest.

As he was finishing up, he caught the gaze of Pierre, or rather Anne-Sophie, standing at the other end of the deck, her face expressionless but with a strange glint in her eyes. Since he had accidentally discovered her secret, they hadn’t spoken once. They had even avoided each other—or at least, she had avoided him.

He noticed a small hand gesture, and after a few seconds, he realized it was directed at him, signaling that she wanted him to come over.

What? He wants... well, she wants to talk to me, now?! I thought she never wanted to speak to me again!

Louis was utterly confused, but he decided to get dressed before heading over to the young woman. From afar, and even up close, she really looked like a man. She simply had somewhat delicate features, that was all. She was also a bit shorter than the others, with less stamina and physical strength. Otherwise, there was no difference.

Walking at a normal pace, he reached her side and leaned against the thick railing, which was damaged in places from the last battle. A light repair job had been done to prevent anyone from getting hurt by splinters.

“I haven’t told anyone, don’t worry,” Louis whispered so softly that one had to strain to hear him.

“I know. If you had, believe me, I would’ve known, and I would’ve found a way to cut off your dick before they arrested me.”

“Charming,” the young soldier remarked sarcastically, briefly glancing at the woman’s impassive face.

“This isn’t a game, Laurent. My life’s at stake,” Anne-Sophie said seriously.

“Like all of ours. And my name’s Louis.”

“Whatever. Louis, Laurent.”

Louis wanted to retort but quickly gave up, knowing he had nothing to gain except making an enemy of this crazy woman.

“What do you want, then?”

“I want your help.”

Louis couldn’t help but chuckle softly, his gaze fixed on the golden horizon.

“What? What’s so funny?! Are you mocking me?!”

“It’s not that. It’s just that you have a funny way of asking for help.”

A trace of irritation formed on Anne-Sophie’s face. Her dark eyes seemed to shoot daggers, but Louis didn’t seem impressed. When he first discovered her secret, he had been surprised, but now it was different. He’d had time to process the information and knew that no matter what this woman said, he held the upper hand.

“Please, Louis, I need your help,” she finally articulated slowly.

The soldier raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, not expecting her to give in so easily.

This isn’t funny. Alright, what exactly does she want?

“What’s the problem?”

“I need to wash too, but after what happened last time… it’s too dangerous. I need someone to stand guard. Same for the latrines.”

“Seriously? What did you do before?”

Anne-Sophie furrowed her brows angrily and pursed her lips in frustration.

“Shut up! You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to get this far without being caught! Always coming up with excuses, stupid tricks just to be alone for a moment, just to take a piss! You have no idea what it’s like!”

She glanced furtively over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation.

“Now that you know the truth, at least I have nothing to hide from you, so… help me.”

Louis looked at her in silence for a long time, as if weighing the pros and cons, but in reality, he had already made up his mind. He just wanted to tease her a little, make her wait and fear his response.

“Damn it, say something!” she growled, clenching her fists, her cheeks slightly flushed with anger.

“Alright. I’ll help you.”

As quickly as she had gotten angry, Anne-Sophie calmed down.

“Good. In that case, meet me where you found me last week when the bell rings for the last night watch.”

The rest of the day passed without incident or any notable events. The crew, which naturally included the soldiers under Marshal-Duke de Richelieu, had begun to settle into a kind of routine.

Each day was much the same, with only slight variations in the meals, weather, conversations, or exercises.

Louis spent a long time talking with the sailors, including Étienne, to learn more about their pasts and the places they had traveled.

Étienne was thirty-five years old, which came as a surprise since everyone in the group had assumed he was around the same age as them—twenty or twenty-one. This meant he had been old enough to fight in the previous war. And he had.

He had faced the English more than once, whether in the Caribbean, the Mediterranean, or off the African coast. Unfortunately, almost every time, the French navy had been defeated.

For him, the war had ended in May 1747, as he had been taken prisoner along with many others after the terrible Battle of Cape Finisterre, the first one, since there was a second in October that same year.

Despite the defeat, his pride was evident because, at that time, he served aboard the Terrible, a seventy-four-gun ship that lived up to its name. The battle had lasted all day despite the disparity in forces favoring the British, but the Terrible had held out the longest.

In fact, their ship had caused the British considerable trouble, as they had only surrendered after exhausting all their ammunition.

“Hahaha! You should’ve seen their faces! Those bastards looked like beaten dogs! The funniest part was how we ended the battle! We were out of cannonballs but still had gunpowder, so we loaded our cannons with silverware! Bouahahaha! Their ships’ hulls were so ridiculous! Our commander, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, surrendered his sword with such elegance you’d never have believed he was giving up! Even the English were impressed!”

All the sailors and soldiers burst out laughing with pride, applauding the bravery of the French sailors.

“After that, well, we were taken to England along with all our captured ships. Of the six, I think three were integrated into the British navy. We were held prisoner in a remote village in the middle of nowhere, though quite a pretty one, and we had to wait for the end of the war to be released."

"And the women? What were they like?"

"Oh, they weren’t bad-looking. But don’t think we could get close to them. They treated us like animals or the sick. Oh, and by the way, their food is crap! They can’t cook! Even their omelets are awful!”

Louis smiled, and when it was time to sleep, everyone returned to their hammocks.

Soon, snores could be heard throughout the deck.

Despite the hours that had passed since sunset, it was still very hot. Most of the sailors slept shirtless, and Louis was no exception.

With one arm behind his head and his legs crossed, he reflected on the uncertain future. He wondered what would happen if he were captured and whether he could endure being a prisoner of the English for years. Maybe after eating their food and hearing them speak their language, he’d no longer want to leave?

That seemed very unlikely, especially if the food was as bad as Étienne claimed. And what future could he possibly have there? Even after ten or twenty years, he’d still be a Frenchman in their eyes.

That was natural, just as an Englishman would always be seen as an Englishman, no matter how long he lived in France. He’d be viewed with suspicion and closely watched by the police in case he tried to spy or corrupt the locals.

Even if he found a loving woman there, her family would never accept her marrying a Frenchman. He himself wouldn’t accept his child, if he ever had one, marrying a foreigner.

DING DING

It’s time. Damn, I didn’t get a wink of sleep!

Quietly, without making a sound, he slipped out of his hammock and headed for the wooden stairs leading to the first deck, then down another staircase to the hold where they stored supplies, gunpowder, cannonballs, and many barrels.

It was very quiet there, but that only made every little noise more noticeable. The simple creaking of the wood sounded like a terrible noise.

The smell was strong, but very different from what he breathed a bit higher up. Here, it smelled stale, like wine, vinegar, and something reminiscent of stables.

Anne-Sophie was there, shrouded in darkness, barely visible despite a nearby lantern. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she seemed to have been waiting for him for a while.

Large, shifting shadows played across her face, making it impossible to read her emotions.

“Well, I’m here. What do you want?”

“As I told you, I need your help to stand guard. If someone comes down, stall them long enough for me to get dressed. I really need to wash."

"Tss, fine. Should I stand here?”

The young woman looked at the spot Louis indicated and shook her head.

“No, farther. And I’m warning you, if you look at me, I’ll rip your eyes out. And I’ll cut your tongue just to be sure you don’t tell anyone."

"Crazy," he muttered.

"What did you say?” the woman growled, like a dog protecting its bone.

"Nothing. It’s fine. You can go wash, Anne-Sophie."

"Don’t call me that, even when it’s just the two of us.”

A few minutes later, Louis heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, a small splash, and the rubbing of a cloth against skin. With his back turned, he could only imagine the woman’s body, wet and glistening under the soft flickering light of a candle.

His heart pounded furiously in his chest, as he found the situation strangely exciting. He wanted to turn around, to steal a glance in her direction, but the fear of the consequences stopped him.

She’s taking her time! What’s she doing?!

“Hey, I’m done. D-don’t turn around! I didn’t say I was dressed yet! Back up towards me."

"Huh?"

"Just do as I say! Take these bandages, you’re going to help me with something. You can turn around, but don’t look. Look at the ceiling if you have to. I want you to help me wrap this around my chest. Don’t hesitate to make it tight."

"How am I supposed to do that without looking?!"

"Shut up! Just do what I say!”

In the dim light, Anne-Sophie, her back turned and her hands pressed against her aching chest from being bound too tightly, began to blush deeply.

Slowly, they wrapped the bandages, which was much easier with two people than alone.

“You’re not looking, right?"

"No!”

Louis gently lowered his eyes and saw a slender, delicate neck, gleaming shoulders, a well-shaped back, and sensual curves. Her skin, pale from not being able to undress during the day, looked so soft.

A dangerous desire began to rise within him.

“All done,” he finally said in a whisper.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when I need your help again.”

Fortunately, Anne-Sophie didn’t notice the state Louis was in. She quickly tied her jet-black hair with some sort of fabric lace and disappeared, leaving Louis alone with his thoughts.

What am I doing?