Tides of Fortune (Jacobite Chronicles Book 6)

by Julia Brannan

  Feeling full of purpose she left the rail and Anne, and walked over to Captain Ricky, who was standing by the larger of the ship’s two masts, talking to Mr Johnson.

  “Captain,” she said. “Could I have a moment of your time, please?”

  He broke off his conversation and looked at her.

  “Is it important, madam? I am very busy,” he asked brusquely.

  “It is, I think,” she said. He nodded for her to continue. “Are you intending to allow the men to come up on deck at any point?” she asked. “The conditions below are worsening. Many of the men are feeling very unwell, and it would make such a difference to them to have access to a little air and exercise.”

  “That was not my intention, no,” he said. “I will not risk my ship or the safety of my men in order to allow a rabble of traitors to take the air. They should have thought of the consequences of their actions before they followed the Pretender’s Son.”

  His tone indicated that she, being a woman, did not have the intelligence to think for herself. Clearly he did not consider women a threat. She’d hoped he had allowed the women on deck due to compassion, but saw now that she was wrong. She changed tack.

  “Two of the men have diarrhoea, and are complaining of backache and joint pains,” she said.

  “As I have already said—”

  “When I was in Newgate,” Beth continued conversationally, “there was an outbreak of gaol fever, and a great number of prisoners died. The first symptoms were diarrhoea, then backache and joint pains. Only one woman in my cell died though, and I think that was because I had a little money at the time and used it to buy vinegar to clean the cell and lavender oil to sweeten the air. As I’m sure you know, gaol fever is caused by noxious air, and the air below deck is very noxious at the moment.”

  Captain Ricky looked at her incredulously.

  “As you can see, madam,” he said, indicating the ship with a gesture of his arm, “our access to a field of lavender is a little restricted at the moment. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  “Of course,” Beth said. “My apologies. I just thought it would be such a shame if you were to lose most of your prisoners before you reach Antigua. But I suppose it will make no difference to you, as the government will no doubt pay you for us anyway, will they not? I am grateful that you allow the ladies at least to take the air. Thank you, Captain. I am sorry to have disturbed you.”

  She knew from listening to Alex when talking about his smuggling escapades, that ship owners were only paid for their cargoes when they reached their destination safely. She hoped that also applied to human cargoes.

  It seemed she was right. The next day the two sick men were taken on deck and examined by the ship’s doctor, who confirmed that the men were merely suffering from dysentery and that their muscle pains were due to the cramped conditions they were living in, especially as they were unable to stand upright, the ceiling of their accommodations being only five feet high.

  The day after that the men were taken on deck in small groups and allowed fifteen minutes to stretch their limbs, closely guarded by a number of the crew. This, the captain informed them, would be a daily occurrence unless they offered any violence whatsoever to the crew, in which case they could rot and die as far as he was concerned.

  The men made no attempt to storm the ship, aware that in their weakened state and without any weapons they had virtually no chance of success, and that if they did make any such attempt, they would not breathe fresh air until they arrived on land. None of them had any idea how to sail a ship anyway; but they all knew how to fight on land.

  Better to submit for now, so that they would arrive in Antigua as healthy as possible. While the men were on deck in groups of twenty, the women were given buckets of sea water and brushes, which they used to wash down the floor of the hold while the remaining men moved around the space as they scrubbed, sometimes taking a turn themselves. The air was still foul, and the food monotonous and inadequate, but it was much better than before and the spirits of the prisoners were raised considerably.

  No one knew why the captain had suddenly had a change of heart, and Beth did not tell her companions of her conversation with him; she was just glad that he had taken her veiled warning on board.

  In spite of the improvement in conditions some of the prisoners did not survive to reach the West Indies; five of the men and two women died during the voyage, two from infected wounds, one from being thrown against the wall of the hold during a storm, and the remaining three from unknown wasting diseases that they had probably already been suffering from before coming on board. Their bodies were taken out of the hold, and after a few words from the ship’s chaplain were thrown overboard.

  The remaining passengers were still infested with lice, and had no way of keeping themselves clean and no change of clothing. Bites became infected, and were cleaned with seawater in an attempt to stop them ulcerating, with limited success. But there was no outbreak of typhus or any other contagion, and that was something to be thankful for.

  As the weeks passed, the prisoners formed friendship groups based loosely on nationality, clan, or age. By common consent they had agreed not to speak of clan feuds, recognising that this was not the time or place to settle old grievances. Instead of their differences they tried to focus on what they had in common; they all supported the Stuarts, and they were all heading for an unknown life in an alien land.

  Nevertheless the strain was starting to tell on them, even though they told themselves that at least they now knew there was an end in sight to their current condition, and that it was getting closer with every day that passed. As they got nearer to their destination the weather, which had been cool and breezy, and often very cold at night, slowly became warmer, and after four weeks at sea the temperature on deck by day was that of a very hot day in high summer in Britain, and even at night it stayed hot and humid, making sleeping in the stuffy hold virtually impossible.

  They all dreaded the life they were heading for, indentured servitude just being a synonym for slavery, but told themselves that slaves escaped sometimes, and were set free sometimes too. Anyone who voiced pessimistic views was silenced abruptly; what was the point in becoming miserable about something you couldn’t change? They had all made the best of their long imprisonment – that, along with luck in avoiding a fatal illness, was why they were here. They would make the best of what was to come too.

  “My grandmother was transported when she was a young woman,” Beth told her companions one particularly hot evening as they all sat or lay in the darkness. In Scotland now, and even in northern England, the days would be long, the sun not setting until nine o’clock at the earliest, and rising again around four in the morning. One of the men had commented to a sailor that the nights seemed to be getting longer rather than shorter, and had been told that it was because they were near the equator; that day and night were more or less of equal length all year round. They had all marvelled at this, and had adapted, talking for a short while after dark rather than attempting to sleep for twelve hours, which was difficult in any case, but in this heat impossible.

  “Was that after the ’15?” one of the men asked.

  “No, it was earlier than that, after Killiecrankie.” This was a lie, but only a partial one; the massacre of Glencoe had taken place after the Battle of Killiecrankie. But Beth had no wish to reveal her MacDonald ancestry to the others; nor did she wish to raise clan matters. Several of her fellow prisoners were Campbells after all, who had fought with the prince rather than against him as the bulk of their clan had. “She was transported to America, and she had a very bad time at first. But she told me that it was partly her own fault, because she couldn’t accept the life that God had planned for her, so she fought it all the way. She tried to kill the first man who bought her. She said that she should have learnt when to compromise, because if she had, her life in the Colonies would have been much easier.”

  “How do ye ken this?” Effie Cameron asked. “
Who tellt ye?”

  “She did,” Beth answered. “The last people who bought her indenture looked after her, even though she insulted them and rebelled. And then they gave her her freedom, and set her up in a little place of her own. She saved for years, and then when she got old, decided she wanted to die at home. So she came back.”

  There was a short silence while they all absorbed the fact that it was possible to be freed and to go back home. They had heard stories of people returning to Scotland from France, or Italy maybe, but from the other side of the world… no.

  “Did she die at home wi’ her family, then?” someone asked in the darkness.

  “I don’t know. The last time I saw her she was still alive and fit and well too. But yes, she was with her family. Everyone thinks she’ll live forever, but when she does die she’ll be at home, as she wanted. She told me that she nearly died in America, but only because she couldn’t accept when she was beaten. I’ve been thinking about that a lot over the last few days.”

  By the silence that followed, she realised she was no longer alone in thinking about that.

  The following day Captain Ricky informed them that they should, wind permitting, reach Antigua in no more than three days. The general mood on hearing this was one of relief. However bad their new lives might be, it was unlikely that they’d be confined in a hot and humid oversized coffin for weeks on end. And there was always the possibility that they might one day be able to return home. If one elderly woman had done it, why shouldn’t they?

  Better to think on that, than on the more likely outcome; that they would die as slaves in an alien, hostile land.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Do you think you’ll be able to do it?” Elizabeth Clavering asked Beth the next morning. The women were on deck, and even though the sun had only risen an hour before, it was already hot. Elizabeth lifted the tangled mass of her hair off her neck in a vain attempt to cool down a little. Not for the first time Beth was thankful that she’d cut hers. Unfashionable as it was for a woman to have short hair, it was certainly more practical, especially in these conditions.

  “Be able to do what?” Beth asked, still staring out to sea. She always stood by the rail, but today all the women and most of the sailors who were on deck were also standing there. In the far distance, only just visible over the horizon, could be seen the sails of another ship, although at the moment it was too far away for anyone to discern what type of ship it was.

  “Accept that you’re beaten? Like your grandmother said.”

  Beth sighed.

  “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “She told me that I was like her, had the same spirit, and that she should have stayed at home and brought my mother up instead of shooting a soldier, which was what got her transported. It’s a bit late for me to stay at home now, though.”

  “If you could go back in time, would you have stayed at home?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No,” Beth said without hesitation. “I wouldn’t do anything differently, even if I’d known where it would end. Would you?”

  Elizabeth thought for a minute. The other ship was a bit closer now, though still far away. The Veteran had two masts and lots of square sails, but this other ship was smaller and had just one mast.

  “Yes, just one thing. I would have left my husband when he told me to at Clifton, instead of staying with him. Because we both knew he was dying. I stayed wi’ him because I couldna bear for him to die alone, but I ken now that was a selfish thing, because he’d have died happier if I’d have left him and gone wi’ the others.”

  “Would you have been able to forgive yourself for leaving him?”

  Elizabeth smiled sadly.

  “I dinna ken. But it’s done now, anyway. There is no going back. Will ye accept what’s to come, though?”

  “I don’t know. I think I should probably try to, yes. I’ve done it before, to some extent, at least.” She had thought she was making the best of a bad situation in marrying Sir Anthony Peters. And that had turned out to be the best decision of her life. “My grandmother told me that she fought all the way, even against people who would have been good to her if she’d let them. I didn’t want to get married but I had to, to get away from my brother, who’s the most evil bastard I’ve ever known.”

  “Worse than Cumberland?” Elizabeth said, half in jest.

  “Yes. Far worse than Cumberland,” Beth said vehemently. “Anyway, I had a choice; marry a drunken old man who I knew nothing about, or a younger man who I wasn’t attracted to, and who was irritating but amusing to be with and appeared to be kind. Now, from what my granny told me, if she’d been in the same situation at my age she would have refused to marry either of them, and would have tried to carry on fighting Richard and the whole of society instead. But I recognised that I couldn’t do that any more, because it was destroying me. And I made the right decision in the end. So maybe I can follow her advice. I think it will depend on what happens when we get to Antigua, on who buys my indenture.”

  “I think you’ll fight, just no’ in the way of your granny,” Elizabeth said. “It seems to me that you’ve learnt different ways to fight.”

  Behind the small ship, just appearing over the horizon, was a much larger ship, like the one they were on. At the moment it seemed small due to distance, but it had two masts like this one, so Beth assumed it must be of a similar size. Someone called down from the rigging.

  “What do you mean?” Beth asked.

  “Well, instead of attacking that Sam straight away when he propositioned ye, ye let him know that ye’d killt a man, and that ye werena afeart to do it again. That was clever. And then ye talked the captain into letting the men up for air. It seems tae me your granny would have challenged him instead.”

  Beth laughed.

  “Not by the time I knew her she wouldn’t, no. But yes, when she was young, probably. I didn’t know you’d heard me talking to the captain. But I daresay he’d have let the men come up anyway. He seems a hard man, but not one to be cruel for no reason.”

  “Aye, but—”

  Another shout came from the rigging, this time a more urgent one, and suddenly all the crewmen, who had been intently watching the approaching ships, sprang into action.

  “Get the women below, now!” Mr Johnson called out urgently.

  The women were rounded up none too gently and all but pushed down the ladder into the hold, whereupon the hatch was closed and bolted.

  “What’s amiss?” one of the men asked. From above their heads came the sound of many feet running, and of heavy objects being moved.

  “There are two ships coming towards us, but they’re a long way away yet,” Barbara Campbell said. “I dinna ken what the fuss is about.”

  “Everyone was just watching them, and then all of a sudden they said we had to get below,” Beth added.

  “What kind of ships were they?” John Ostler asked.

  “There was a small one and then a big one behind it, like this, I think,” Beth said. “I don’t know anything about ships, so I don’t know what kind they were.”

  “They could be pirates,” John MacKenzie, who had been a captain in Cromartie’s regiment, said.

  “Pirates!” John Ostler exclaimed. “You mean like Blackbeard?”

  “Blackbeard?” Daniel McGillis asked fearfully.

  “Pirates are a bit like highwaymen, but at sea,” John MacKenzie explained. “My father tellt me about them. It’s said that they’re all criminals, working only for themselves, and they attack any ship they can, kill all the crew unless they agree to join them, and steal the cargoes for themselves. That noise will be the crew readying the guns to give battle, I’m thinking.”

  “Mother of God,” Elizabeth Clavering said, crossing herself.

  “You said there were two ships?” John Ostler asked Beth.

  “Yes, the big one had two masts. The small one had one, but just before we were pushed down here, I could see it had a lot of people on it,” she replied.

&
nbsp; “If they fire on us, they could sink us!” one man said. “If they do, we’ll all drown.”

  “And if we don’t then they could kill us all anyway. We’ve no weapons to defend ourselves with,” added another man.

  “I’m only fourteen,” Daniel McGillis said desperately. “I’m no’ ready to die yet!”

  “That doesna change with age, laddie,” Donald MacDonald replied. “I’m fifty-eight, but I’m no’ ready to die yet, either.”

  The noise from above stopped. It seemed the guns were ready. All that could be heard was the normal creaking of a ship sailing.

  John Ostler climbed up the ladder and banged hard on the hatch with his fists.

  “What’s happening up there?” he shouted. “We can fight with you, if there’s a need!”

  “To hell with that,” one of the Manchester men said in a low voice. “I’m for fighting with the pirates, myself.”

  A few people laughed, in spite of the tension. John Ostler banged on the hatch again and repeated his words. Everyone listened, but there was no response. Some of the prisoners started praying softly.

  “Who’s Blackbeard?” Daniel McGillis asked again.

  “He’s dead now,” John Ostler told him. “But he was one of the most evil pirates in the world. My father told me about him. It’s said he looked like the devil himself, and if the captain wouldn’t surrender, he’d torture him and the crew, and then kill them all. Then he’d ravish—”

  “Will ye haud yer wheesht, man?” John Grant interrupted fiercely. “There’s ladies on board!”

  “Ah. Yes, of course,” Ostler said. “They were just stories, anyway. Most likely not true,” he finished lamely.

  “We’ll no’ let any harm come to ye, ladies,” Grant offered gallantly.

  Unless we all drown together, Beth thought. But at least that would be a relatively quick death. Possibly better than being beaten to death by a cruel master or worked to death in the hot sun. She made a decision; if it seemed clear they were going to kill or rape her, she would do her best to jump overboard. She didn’t really care about dying, although she felt sorry for the others, who clearly did. At any rate, for the moment there was nothing they could do but wait, and pray.