The Emerald Tartan

by Patricia McGrew

  “Wait a minute. Don’t be so alarmed.” Lydia tried to push him back down on his pillow gently. “We did set sail three weeks ago from Fuegia. We are on our way to Honolulu.”

  “Nay. ‘Tisna possible. Who’d be sailing the ship? What course are we on? If Mister Briggs took off on his own, I’ll have him key-holed! He cannot sail by the stars and sun, no matter what he may think. I should know. We’ve taken bets on it several times, and I never lost those bets. By God, we are doomed!” Again, the Captain struggled to get out of bed.

  With more strength than she realized she possessed, Lydia pushed him back down one more time. “We are exactly on course! At least, I think we are. That’s what my readings show. Mister Briggs has been in charge of the crew, and I have been making the sextant readings to chart our course.”

  “And you’re trying to tell me my crew allowed all this? Without me at the helm! I cannot believe it. My crew is too green to follow the orders of Mister Briggs.”

  Lydia stood up abruptly in exasperation. “Well, I didn’t say it was easy. So far, so good. The crew has grumbled somewhat, but there have been no major problems Mister Briggs and Doctor Miller have not been able to handle. Mister Briggs told the crew you were giving all the orders from your cabin, but that you needed to stay below deck to recuperate from the blow to your head. Of course, some of the men complained. By the same token, none of them wanted to stay in Fuegia in the bitter wind and cold, either. Mister Briggs’ most persuasive argument was that we were heading for warm waters in a tropical paradise with fresh produce and women who wore very little clothing. Most of the crew went along with the idea by then, and for those remaining few dissenters, some of your more experienced crew members, Mister Jones, Mister Fairweather, and Mister Porter, were able to convince them through a bit of physical intimidation it would be in their best interests to go along with the rest of the crew. I believe at this point, we are about twenty-one days out of Honolulu.”

  “What is today?”

  “June first. So if I am correct, we should arrive in Honolulu with a day or so to spare.”

  “I still do not understand how you can possibly ken where we are. None of my crew knows how to use the sextant, and I already gather Mister Briggs did not set sail using the stars and the sun.”

  Lydia got up from the bunk and walked around the wood burning stove and played with the makeshift rope belt around her waist. “When I was on the Wyndom Wydoh, Captain Adams taught me how to use the sextant. At first I could never get the reading correct. I think it was because I had not yet learned how to use my bandaged left hand. But after a while I got the hang of it – and for the entire last week I was on the Wyndom Wydoh, I took the daily sextant readings with Captain Adams’ help. You may recall this from our earlier discussions. Then, you taught me how to do the calculations to chart the ship’s course. I knew you needed to get to Honolulu on time, and I could not see us sitting there moored in Fuegia with winter coming on full blast while we waited for you to get better. And if you didn’t get better, we could have waited there for who knows how long before understanding the danger we were in . We had to set sail in order to save ourselves from winter at Tierra del Fuego.

  “So I’ve prayed a lot in the last three weeks that I’ve been correct in my readings. We may be a little off, but I do know the weather has steadily been growing a little warmer, so I think I’m pretty close on the readings. I know it’s chilly outside, but the waters are calmer and the crew no longer has to bundle up quite so much when up on the deck.”

  “’Pretty close’ on the readings could mean that we are hundreds and even thousands of miles off, Lydia. I cannot believe Mister Briggs countenanced such an idea!” Again he pulled himself up into a sitting position and then, threw his legs over the edge of the bunk, and made one huge effort to stand and walk to his desk. As he tried to stand up, he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

  “Ian!” screamed Lydia. Just then Doctor Miller walked into the cabin.

  In two strides Doctor Miller reached down to help put the Captain back in his bunk. “This man is as stubborn as they come, Lydia. We may yet have to tie him down to the bunk until his head heals sufficiently for him to be up and about.” With that, the doctor lifted the Captain’s legs onto the bunk. Ian groaned but did not open his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, lass. He simply tried to do too much too soon. Perhaps it’s a blessing he’s momentarily passed out. We know he will try to go up on deck and do things which can only lead to lengthening his full recovery. I would say with just two or three more days of bed rest, he should be getting back to normal.”

  “Oh Doctor,” side Lydia “but what if he’s right? What if I am off on my calculations by hundreds or even thousands of miles? Perhaps I have doomed us all!”

  “Maybe so, Lydia. But then given a choice, I’d rather be doomed in a warm climate than to freeze to death down in Fuegia. I’ve never been in a more inhospitable place in my life.

  “By the way, I came down here to let you know that Mister Briggs reported to me those troublemakers, Benson and some of his friends, seem to be working a group of sailors into a small storm about the Captain’s failure to be on deck for the last few weeks. Be aware we need to be careful for the next few days. As I said earlier, I think within a few days the Captain should be able to make an appearance on deck at the least. That should pacify Benson, Tritt, and any others who are wondering about the Captain. We just have to make certain the Captain doesn’t try to do too much too soon once he is up and about.”

  “Doctor, is Ian all right? I mean, can he go into a coma again?”

  “No. He may have experienced a momentary loss of consciousness when he fell, but I think he is now simply in a deep sleep. The body knows its limits, even if the man doesn’t.”

  Somewhat relieved, Lydia realized it was almost time for the next sextant reading.

  “As much as I would like to get Mister Briggs, I think probably I should stay here with the Captain in case he wakes up and tries to do something foolish again,” said Lydia.

  Doctor Miller eyed the Captain. “Yes. I guess you’re right. Although I’m not fond of the idea of leaving the Captain alone right now, I’m sure Mister Briggs must be aware of the time and is looking for me, too. He should be on his way to the cabin by now. If I don’t see him, wait by the cabin door. Don’t venture off to go looking for either him or me.”

  “I know, I know,” answered Lydia impatiently. I hate it when people treat me like a child.

  Just then, the Captain began to moan and toss back and forth slowly on the bunk. “Doctor, I think maybe I should go up to see if Mister Briggs is waiting for us. Just in case Ian needs you, you stay here. I will be right back with Mr. Briggs.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you going up on deck alone,” said the Doctor. “If you do not see Mister Briggs nearby, please come down and get me. I’ll be the one who goes to look for him. Remember it’s dangerous for you up there by yourself.”

  “I know, Doctor. Thank you for your concern. I’ll be quick.”

  As she took the final step up onto the deck, she noticed a distinctly warm current of air. There were patches of sunshine peeking through the gray blanket of clouds. A tiny bit of pride and excitement shot through her veins. I am on course! I just know it.

  Not seeing Mister Briggs in the immediate vicinity, she headed just a bit more toward the bow of the ship, stretching up on her tip toes to see where he could be. The warm air felt so delicious she did not want to wait by the Captain’s cabin door for Mister Briggs. There were no seamen in the immediate vicinity, so it should be safe to venture out a bit more, she thought.

  “That’s strange. Mister Briggs is always so timely about everything. It’s not like him to keep me waiting to make the readings. Oh well. Maybe he’s in disposed for the moment.”

  Leaning against a stack of thick ropes, she pushed her hair out of her eyes to look at the horizon. “Oh no. I forgot the sextant!” Lydia turned around to go back to the
cabin, but there were three men standing in front of her.

  CHAPTER 15

  One man, Tritt, held a rope in his hand, while Benson, held a strip of dirty cloth. Benson leered at her. He had no upper front teeth, and his lower front teeth were rotten. The odor of his rancid breath slithered toward her from six feet away.

  “Going someplace, Missy? I don’t think so,” he laughed.

  Lydia knew trouble was not only brewing, but it had just boiled over in front of her. “Pardon me gentleman. Mister Briggs will be wanting the sextant, so I must go back to the cabin to get it for him.” She tried to skirt around the two men.

  Tritt, a scrawny baldheaded man with protruding eyeballs held the rope out in front of her so she could not move.

  “Mister Briggs won’t be a’ wanting anything, lady. You see, e’s ‘ad an accident – met up with Mister Benson’s fist, ‘e did! See, we’re not as dumb as ye seem ta think we are. Something on this vessel is fishy, and it smells like a woman what don’t b’long ‘ere. We ain’t seem ta got no Captain, an’ it’s startin’ ta look like a woman’s leading this ‘ere ship. Can’t ‘ave that. Bad luck, ye know. Bunch of us’ns done figured out that we’re probly close to one o’ them there tropical islands. So, we’s goin’ ta land on the first one we comes ta, rest a bit, then see what we kin do w’ the ship. Oughta be worth some money ta some’on. Hell, we’s gonna be rich, me and the crew what goes along w’ us.

  “Unfortunately, Missy, ya ain’t gonna be joinin’ us. So, if ya don’ mind, jus’ put yer wrists out here, and I’ll try ta make ye real comfy with these ropes. We done ‘ad enough bad luck ta last us a whiles.”

  At first, Lydia wanted to laugh aloud. The two men looked so ridiculous. Tritt, was so thin she was certain he had worms, and he appeared to have some sort of wasting disease. As he put out the rope for her hands, he hacked and coughed until his friend had to take the rope from him. His pallor was a ghostly white, and his dull, grey eyes appeared red and crusty around the rims.

  The other, Benson, only had one good eye and was missing part of his ear on the side of his head that lacked an eye. That should have been the Captain’s first clue that he might not have been a good recommendation as a sailor she thought. Surely, these two men did not have enough backing to actually support a mutiny, she speculated.

  Lydia kept her hands in her pocket, while Tritt waited for her to put out her arms. She could feel nothing in her pocket that would suffice as a weapon; however, the rope she was leaning against was heavy and bulky. If she could maneuver herself behind the stack of rope, she thought, perhaps she could heave it at them and create a diversion. With any luck, maybe she could make it back to the Captain’s cabin. Once there she could lock the door and confer with the Doctor as to their course of action.

  “First tell me what happened to Mister Briggs, gentlemen. I have to know he is all right before I’ll do anything you say.” Her voice quivered in spite of her attempt at bluster. Sliding her feet toward the pile of rope, Lydia began to jockey for position from just behind the stack.

  “’E’s just fine, Missy. Fell down, ‘e did. Takin’ a wee nap. Once we ‘ave the ship under control, we’re certain he’ll want ta join us. Jus’ needs a bit of time ta think it over.”

  “Really? I’m glad to hear he’s all right. I don’t understand what you mean about all the bad luck we’ve been having. What bad luck?” Her right hand edged under the rope stack.

  “Well, ye know, we got stuck in that awful place, an’ then them crazy people in Fuegia gave us no end of problems. Lots o’ the men been getting’ sick. Weevils in the hardtack. The meat’s been rancid for several weeks now, since just before we went aroun’ the Cape. The Captain’s been injured. Who knows who is in charge of the ship? So, we thought we should answer the question ourselves – we are in charge now. Or at least we will be once we get you an’ the doctor down below. Benson, ‘ere, ‘e’s real smart,’e is. “E’s gonna lead us ta a warm tropical island.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense, gentlemen. We are already on our way to Hawaii. What could you possibly know about charting the course? You will end up getting this ship lost for good if you keep on with this foolish plan. Don’t you realize that?”

  Tritt frowned and clearly took offense at Lydia’s insult to Benson. He leaned forward to slap her, but by then she was just beyond his reach, behind the stack of rope. She picked up the top two or three coils of rope and, in a spraying motion, she tossed out the rope in the hopes that some of the coils would take the two men by surprise.

  This maneuver was just enough of an unexpected delaying tactic to Tritt and Benson, that she had a few seconds of time to scamper back toward the steps down to the Captain’s cabin. Simultaneously, she yelled at the top of her lungs for Mister Briggs and the Doctor.

  She heard cursing and scrambling feet. A length of airborne rope tangled around her feet. She was moving too fast to stop her forward momentum, tripped and fell over the tangled ropes down into the stairwell to the cabin. The wind whooshed out of her lungs as she landed. Unable to catch her breath, she struggled to inhale.

  When she looked around, three or four other crewmembers had gathered. Each man looked slightly more disreputable than the man he stood beside. One rather obese man with a huge hooked nose and large drooping ears stepped forward and made a mocking bow to Lydia. His tiny black eyes peered at her with contempt. She had seen him huddled in conversations with Benson from time to time. The two always jumped apart when she came by, as though they were surprised to be caught in a conversation.

  He addressed her. “Bennett, at yer service. Ya know, Missy, somethin’ ain’t right ‘ere. We ain’t seen the Captain for near over three weeks now. Not a peep. So we all got together and figured the Captain is either dead, or nearly dead. That’s why we ain’t seen ‘im. This ‘ere’s a mighty grand ship, she is. Worth lots of gold – especially to them what’s not got a ship – and need one. We figg’er some’ow the First Mate may be tryin’ to take us to Owyhee, but ‘e’s guessin’. Mr. Tritt, ‘ere, ‘e’s been there before. Knows ‘ow to sail by the sun and the stars. We’ll be takin’ over the ship for now. Gonna change her name today, an’ then we’ll sell her in Owyhee. Get us all ‘nuff money ta go ‘ome in style. Now if ye cooperate with us, we can all ‘ave a pleasant journey for the rest of the way. Course, ye may ‘ave to work a bit - on yer back that is.” He laughed at his own joke. “But don’t worry. We’ll be keepin’ ye ‘ealthy enough for Owyhee. Me’be someone there will a wantin’ a nice white lady – and willin’ ta pay gold for ye!”

  “’Bout time someone put this female in ‘er place! She’s been a troublemaker ever since we found ‘er back at the Cape,” grumbled another unsavory character.

  Another seaman piped up, “Well ye know, ‘taint sa bad ‘avin’ a woman on board, as long as we get ta share ‘er! The Cap’ns been keeping ‘er all to ‘isself. Now we all gonna get some.”

  She looked around and wondered how on earth she had ended up in this situation. She stood, uncertain as to her next move, in the center of a group of unseemly men, who themselves did not look too positive as to their next course of action. Each man looked at the other, as though seeking assurance their rebellion against the Captain was the right thing to do.

  Lydia found her emotions at a crossroads between angry and perplexed. “Really? Mutiny? You do know the punishment is hanging, don’t you? There are other sailors on the ship. Do you mean to tell me that they all agree with the plan?” she queried.

  “Nope. Ain’t said no such thing, Missy,” said Bennett. “But, ya see, Benson ‘ere is real persuasive wi’ his fists. Them what’s not going along wi’ us, they’re in the brig right now. We’ll give ‘em a day or two ta see the error of their ways. Me’be they will decide ta join us by then. If not, too bad. They’ll suffer the same fate as the Captain, if ‘e’s still alive.”

  She knew she needed to stall for time. Even if those who chose not to go along with the mutiny were in the brig, some o
f those who were on deck probably were not happy about this change of events either. She needed to think of a plan that would allow those few men who were on deck and still supported the Captain to have the time to free the others in the brig. After all, it’s hard to have a successful mutiny with only five or six men, no matter how wholehearted they are about a rebellion – especially if other men could be rallied to the Captain’s cause.

  She concluded she had to get these men to throw her in the brig, too, so she could talk with the other seaman. Hopefully, Doctor Miller heard the commotion and thought to lock the Captain’s cabin door. A seaman, whom she had not seen earlier, ambled over to Benson from near the Captain’s cabin and whispered something in his ear. Benson nodded and waved him away. He appeared impatient with all the talk, so he grabbed her shirt at the neck and lifted her up from the deck. He thrust her right arm behind her, as if he expected her to attempt to get away.

  “Don’t start getting any ideas miss. I jus’ got word that the Captain’s alive, but unconscious. So he and the Doctor are locked together in the cabin. We have the key. They ain’t gonna be ‘elpin’ ye any.”

  He glanced at the small motley band of seaman.

  “Nuff talkin’ - we got work ta do. Whittier, for now take Missy ta the brig area, but put ‘er in the storage closet there, not in wi’ the other seamen. We’ll get to ‘er later, near mess time, and then we’ll figure out exactly what we’ll be doing with ‘er ... if you know what I mean.”

  CHAPTER 16

  This was not the turn of events Lydia expected. Nothing in the last couple of months had gone as she expected. Now, Whittier acted as though he was afraid to touch her. Touching her might rub her bad aura off on him.

  Benson wrenched her arms behind her and started to tie her hands until she cried out her shoulders hurt with her arms behind her. He paused for a moment, looked her in the eye, and whispered to her, “If I tie them in front of ye, will ye promise to do whatever I want tonight when all my buddies are sleeping?