The Emerald Tartan

by Patricia McGrew

  CHAPTER 6

  About an hour later there was a hesitant knock on the cabin door. The captain’s voice boomed through the closed door, “Ladies, would you like to join me for dinner, now? We are safely out of the harbor. I have ordered roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for all of us.”

  Lydia opened the door to find the Captain standing there, running his fingers along the brim of his hat. He blushed from his neck up to his cheeks.

  “Am I too early to take you ladies to dinner?” he asked, trying to peer into their cabin as though looking for someone else.

  A fragrance of spices and wood wafted through the air around the captain. Lydia smiled and thought to herself, “A cologne? Here in the middle of the ocean? Hmm.”

  Her mother appeared at the door, “Yes, Captain?”

  The blush from his neck and cheeks crept up to his forehead.

  He straightened up. “Normally, I would have sent my cabin boy to inform you ladies dinner is ready, but he was attending to a few details for me. Have I come too soon? Shall I return to escort you in a few minutes?”

  “No,” smiled Caroline. “Now is fine, thank you.”

  In a matter of minutes, he seated the ladies at a cozy table covered with an ivory linen tablecloth. The room was small, but appointed in simple taste with a dining table and four chairs, a writing desk, and a small bookshelf filled with books on nautical topics, such as Pilot Chart, Cape Horn, and Finding a Ship’s Position at Sea. Lastly, there was a battered, well-used old copy of The Elements and Practice of Rigging, Seamanship and Naval Tactics.

  The cabin boy, about twelve years old, dressed in a freshly pressed sailor’s uniform, stood by the sideboard where dishes of steaming food, covered with metal lids, waited to be served at the Captain’s command. He nodded to the young boy to begin pouring the wine and serving dinner.

  “I hope you ladies don’t mind, but I have taken the liberty of arranging for you to take your meals in this room, rather than in the main dining hall. It may be a little rough for two ladies such as yourselves in there - with the only other passengers being men of all ilk.”

  “I did not think this was the dining room,” commented Lydia. “What room was this?”

  The Captain’s eyebrows went up, and he suddenly became very interested in carving the roast beef. “Ahem.” The captain tried to clear his throat.

  The cabin boy, preparing to serve the warm, sliced bread, piped up, “Why, this used to be the Captain’s office, Miss.” The young man smiled and was clearly happy to contribute to the conversation to help out the Captain, who seemed to be at a loss for words.

  The Captain shut his eyes then reopened them. With a huge sigh, he fixed his steely eyes on the young man, “I don’t recall anyone giving you permission to speak, Master Charles.”

  He appeared to be crestfallen and took a step back as though he had just been slapped. “I… I beg your pardon Captain. My apologies, sir.”

  Biting into the roast beef, the Captain’s weather-worn face exposed his embarrassment. Then, the scowl on his ruddy face cleared into a pleasant smile. He said, “Yes. He’s quite right. This used to be my office, but I decided I preferred to have my work materials and the ship’s log closer at hand in my chambers. So this room no longer had a purpose. I decided it would make a nice dining room. Master Charles, please bring the ladies more wine.”

  The Captain smiled briefly at Lydia, and then without moving his head, stole a glance at Caroline from under his bushy white eyebrows.

  Caroline didn’t look up from her plate, but focused on her food. Lydia grinned, and the dinner continued. Just as Master Charles was about to serve the raspberry trifle, Lydia put her right hand up to her neck and stood up to excuse herself from the table. The slow, rocking motion of the ship had begun to take its toll on her equilibrium.

  “I will accompany you,” said Caroline.

  “Thank you, Mama, but no. I’m sure it’s just the combination of the excitement of the day and the sea. My wrist is aching a little now, too. I’ll just rest for a short while. Perhaps I’ll join you out on the deck later. Please, Mama. Enjoy dessert. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, yes. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Please Mrs. Holcomb, have a bit of trifle. The cook will be most upset if I do not tell him how you enjoyed the desert. It was a special request I made of him.” Then the captain laughed. “You know what a prima donna cooks can be without proper appreciation.”

  “Really, Mama. I just want to lie down for a few minutes. I’ll join you up on deck in a half hour or so.”

  “Very well, Lydia. As long as you are certain you are well, I guess it would be all right for me to stay here and have dessert.” Caroline’s voice waffled slightly as though she was not certain about her choice. Lydia left and returned to her cabin.

  She was not all right. When she opened the door to her cabin, she ran in to search for the chamber pot. The little bit of dinner Lydia had eaten, refused to stay down. Her misery grew as she analyzed her situation. The simplest of tasks, such as washing her face or putting up her hair, were now impossible to accomplish alone. Two hands were necessary for Lydia to dress to undress or to take care of any personal matters. Her wrist was going to be in the splint for the next twelve weeks. The most overwhelming thought of all, though, was the reality of being on the ship for the next three to four months. With each roll of the ship, Lydia felt her stomach rise up to her throat.

  “Stop these weakling thoughts,” Lydia said to herself. “I can handle anything, including this wretched seasickness. I just have to be patient.” Then she recalled the captain had mentioned during dinner that after a couple of days the body becomes accustomed to the constant movement of the ship.

  She finally had a few moments of quiet to review the events of the day and sat on the edge of her bunk, with her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. It was the first day out from under her father’s over-protectiveness. She knew she needed to prove to herself she could handle any situation as well as the next person. She was not a wilting flower that fainted at the drop of a hat. Those women who fainted, did so because their corsets were too tight.

  “I have craved independence for years, and now I have a chance to experience that freedom, I’m not going to disappoint myself or Mama. We’ve both made the right choices … I think,” she said out loud to no one in particular.

  The very next minute found her reaching for the chamber pot for the second time.

  After what seemed like hours later to Lydia, she heard footsteps. Despite her attempts at bravery in dealing with her seasickness and general feelings of insecurity, she found she needed her mother, who just then walked into the cabin to see Lydia in complete distress.

  “I thought you were going to join me in a half hour,” said Caroline, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Oh my goodness! The cabin smells terrible.”

  Caroline glanced in Lydia’s direction. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I should have come down here sooner. I didn’t realize how sick you were.” Caroline hurried over to the porthole to open the small window, and she carefully lifted the chamber pot to the window and emptied its contents.

  “I’ll leave the porthole opened for a while so we can get fresh air in here.” Lydia continued to lay on her narrow bed and could only moan in agreement. Lydia’s upbeat attitude did not fail her though, and after a couple of days, she did begin to feel better. She decided to join her mother and the Captain for dinner. They were both delighted to have her join them.

  Her mother’s behavior was different. She had been in her cabin for only a few days, but a connection had developed between her mother and the Captain. As Lydia picked at her food, she noticed a difference in her mother’s behavior. Never in Lydia’s life had she ever seen her so gay and animated. Caroline maintained a steady conversation, complete with joking and laughter, with both Lydia and the captain. It was a strange sight. At home with her father, conversation had never been allowed during any of their meals. He maintained idle chatter was the devil’s work.


  Lydia found herself laughing and contributing to the conversation, too. Even more interesting than her mother’s newfound dinner habits of conversation and laughter were the short, but revealing glances, between her mother and the Captain. When dinner was over, Lydia suggested a walk on the deck to her mother. The captain opened his mouth as though he was going to say a few words, and then fell silent. Caroline, too, hesitated as she looked directly into the Captain’s eyes and then agreed a walk on the deck would be quite pleasant.

  As they left the cabin for their walk, Lydia commented, “Well, Mama. This is certainly an interesting turn of events.”

  “What do you mean, Lydia?”

  “Mama, I may be an innocent and inexperienced, but I am not blind. It is quite apparent you and the Captain are taken with one another.”

  “He is just a good friend, Lydia. You know how restricted our lives have been. I have never had anyone to talk to on any in-depth level, even your father would brush off my questions or comments as silly nonsense a woman should not concern herself with. The Captain is different. He listens to me and answers my questions. He is nothing more than a dear friend.”

  Caroline’s voice was so full of protest and guilty denial, Lydia decided to drop the topic for the time being.

  The time began to pass more quickly for both Lydia and Caroline. Their routine rarely varied. They would take breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the captain’s former office, the three of them together. The jovial banter between Caroline and the Captain did not let up, and Lydia was always included in the chitchat. The Captain was always happy to point out the dolphins frolicking in the water and leading the way just in front of the ship. Between the meals Caroline and Lydia passed hours together seated in the shade on small wooden deck chairs, watching the crew members go through the maneuvers with the sails, depending upon the wind conditions. Caroline worked on her embroidery.

  Without the use of her left hand, Lydia found she enjoyed watching the crew climb quickly up to the top of the mast to complete their work on the sails. Just as quickly, they would make haste back down the masts.

  Little by little, Lydia became curious about the various maneuvers and at meal times would ask the Captain about sailing a ship, such as how he knew how to keep the sails full of wind, even when there seemed to be no wind. The Captain was always courteous to Lydia and patiently answered her questions. Yet his eyes never strayed far from Caroline, who sat demurely in her chair, and her eyes never strayed far from his.

  Lydia’s vocabulary soon became full of words such as port, starboard, aft, stern, jib, mizzenmast and others. Her fascination with sailing a ship grew daily. One day merged into another as they sailed from England to the Caribbean, and worked their way down along the eastern coast of South America. When the seas were calm, the Captain allowed Lydia to take the helm with her good hand. At Lydia’s insistence, he even taught her how to use the sextant to chart their course. At first, she made a number of errors, but the Captain patiently explained her errors, and she learned.

  When they stopped at Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, they picked up sugar and coffee as well as off loaded cotton from the southern United States and tea from the Far East. Lydia and her mother saw a menagerie of exotic birds waiting to be shipped all over the world. Lydia’s favorite was the Hyacinth Macaw. The Captain brought out a book by a man named Audubon to help the ladies to identify the multitude of birds they saw as the ship traversed from port to port.

  She loved the feeling of the fresh sea air blowing through her hair, which her mother now tied at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. Her mother fussed a little with Lydia over her unladylike behavior of standing at the helm with the Captain, pestering him with questions. But the Captain always insisted he did not mind. After all, Lydia did not have embroidery to occupy her thoughts, and her wrist was still in a splint. She could feel, though, her wrist was getting much better because she could flex her hand and move her fingers without pain.

  As the weeks passed, the weather became colder, and the winds became stronger. The two women were no longer able to sit on the deck. There was no longer any sunshine to enjoy. The chilly air had a distinct bite to it, and the seas became more turbulent. One night at dinner, the Captain announced, “Ladies, the next few days are going to be difficult and unpleasant. We are about to go around Cape Horn, Cabo de Hornos, as it is also known. Now, as a clipper ship, we should make good time. That doesn’t change the fact that squalls can arise from nowhere. There can be blizzards and icebergs, which are hazards we have to watch for twenty-four hours a day. I’m going to ask you both to remain below deck until I give you specific permission to go above. It can be truly treacherous.”

  The Captain noticed both women said nothing, but they paled. “I don’t mean to frighten you,” he continued. “You should know I have rounded the Cape at least twenty times, so I am not without experience in dealing with whatever the Cape may have to offer. Each time I have rounded the Cape, I have done so safely, and I fully intend to do so this time.” The captain reached out and patted Caroline’s hand in a reassuring gesture. She tried to smile, but did not succeed.

  Lydia only knew her stomach, which had been most cooperative after the first few days at sea, once again echoed that haunting feeling of rebellion.

  The Captain’s predictions were accurate. The seas became a boiling froth. The wind blew harder than Lydia believed possible. Still, the ship made slow progress around the Cape.

  Two days later the constant rolling of the sea began to take its toll on Lydia. Master Charles was just beginning to serve dinner, when Lydia stood up quickly to excuse herself from the table. “I’ll be fine,” she offered. “Food is simply not appealing to me at this moment. I’m feeling quite tired from all the motion. Please excuse me.”

  “I’ll come with you, Lydia,” Caroline offered. “Please Captain, if you will hold dinner for a short time, I’ll rejoin you. I just want to make sure Lydia will be all right.” He nodded his agreement.

  “Thank you, Mama. I’ll be fine. But I am glad you are coming with me. I’d appreciate it if you could help me to undress and put on my gown. I am so tired from fighting the seasickness. I just want to go to sleep.” She tried to smile. “Just think, Mama. Five more days and I can have the splint removed. It will be so pleasant to be able to dress and undress myself again.”

  “There now,” said Caroline, as she slipped the long, white cotton gown over Lydia’s head. Lydia turned to face her mother, and Caroline secured the last button of the nightgown on the high necked collar. “Just rest, dear. I will finish having dinner with the Captain, and I will be back soon.”

  “Don’t worry. I will crawl underneath the comforter, get warm, and sleep. That way, I will not notice my stomach. I hope.”

  Lydia tossed and turned on her slender bunk – the action of the ship riding over the crests of waves down into the troughs had her stomach rumbling and heaving. The winds’ howl kept her from falling asleep, as she flopped about trying to find a comfortable position.

  A loud, rending noise ended in a shattering crack and then screams. Startled, she sat up. Prickles echoed down her spine. Adrenaline shot through every nerve ending in her body. The ship was on such a steep incline, that she fell back onto the bed. The screams continued. Barely taking time to put on a robe, Lydia ran out of her room to the deck to see what happened. The main deck was in complete chaos. Men were running everywhere. The First Mate shouted orders Lydia couldn’t understand because the wind continued to roar, and a high pitched scream danced through the masts … that was it! Lydia could see one of the three masts had broken off at the top. Two sailors who must have been at the top of the mast trying to re-tie down the unfurled sail, appeared to have fallen when the mast broke. They laid on the deck, moaning under the weight of part of the mast.

  A sailor yelled at her, “Miss, get into the jolly boat! Quick! There’s another wave a comin’.”

  Lydia looked around to see what appeared to be a rather larg
e rowboat covered with a tattered tarp. A pile of ropes had just slid close to the boat. The ship tilted again and the ropes slid even closer to the jolly boat. Lydia used the ropes to heave herself upward to climb into the jolly boat and pulled the torn tarp over her just as the next wave slammed into the port side of the ship. The impact pounded Lydia onto the floor of the boat. Dazed, she grabbed one of the wooden seats where either the rowers or passengers would sit. She had barely caught her breath when a cacophony of male voices screamed, “Oh God. … Another monster wave … us! Seek shelter. Grab onto something, this one is the big …”

  There were no more voices, only quiet and the howl of the wind. Lydia felt her stomach lift up and then crash down within a matter of seconds. The boat continually lifted up, as though on a crest and then barreled downward. Her head hit the bottom of the wooden seat and she felt momentarily dazed and unable to move. Then, there was just darkness – she neither felt nor heard anything.

  CHAPTER 7

  (Captain Ian MacLeod)

  As Captain MacLeod walked along the rocky shoreline, he heard what sounded like wood being battered against rocks. He squinted out at the horizon just in time to see what appeared to be a scarred wooden jollyboat grate against a massive boulder, jutting out of the water. With the powerful push of another breaking wave, the boat grazed the rocky shoreline and heaved onto the gravel about ten feet in front of him.

  “What the hell?” said the Captain, as he pulled his cap down more firmly over his head and walked toward the jollyboat. “Was that a voice or the wind?” he wondered.

  “Help,” coughed a voice. “Help, so cold. No… No. Don’t want to die.”

  “Over here, Briggs,” yelled the Captain to his First Mate, Andy Briggs.

  The Captain waved his torch in the early evening darkness to signal his location to him. Pieces of what used to be a tarp hung from the rails. He lowered the flame of his torch and looked down. In front of him, lay the bruised and battered body of a young woman in about three inches of water. He reached down to feel her pulse, and it was there, but faint. Her right arm held the wooden seat above her in a death grip. Shreds of bandages and a broken splint hung loosely around her left wrist. Hitched up around her waist a filmy white nightgown barely covered her body, revealing creamy white thighs and hips, marred by scratches and bruises. Long dark hair, wet and entangled, covered a part of her face.