'Did you? He may have given that impression, but he's a deceitful young pup! He's off to join the army, and I want all the men to begin searching for him.'
Jamie sighed. 'Bruce, you'll never find him. It's far too big a place, and he can hide, or he might have left Glasgow already.'
'I have to look! He's my son! My only son.'
'We have to be on board ourselves in an hour. There no time.'
'I can't go without him.'
'If you don't go, how are you going to pay for passages later on, whether you find him or not?'
Bruce looked blank for a moment, then groaned. 'I've so little money left!'
'Too little to keep you and Meg while you look for him, and as I said, there's precious little chance of finding him.'
The argument raged, Meg weeping, Flora trying to comfort the children, who were screaming in sympathy, until finally Jamie slammed his fist on the table.
'Enough! You can do what you like, Bruce, but if you don't come I'm finished with you. And you'll have to let us get aboard now, before we miss the tide. My money is tied up with our own passages, stores, and loans, as well as for buying land. You can ruin yourself, but I won't permit you to ruin us too.'
Bruce stared at him, then his shoulders sagged. 'You're right. I'm sorry. Flora, I'm too distracted to think.'
'Come with us. We can write to my aunt later, and she will try to discover what's happened to him. Her husband will know how to trace him, and then you can send him a letter. He'll come back one day.'
'Unless the damned French kill him.'
***
Their main provisions had been taken aboard the previous day, and Jamie and the other men had seen to the stowing of it. All they had to carry were their last bundles, clothes and valuables Flora hadn't wished to let out of her sight. There were her pearls and diamond ring, far too fine to be worn on any but big occasions. Then she had the miniature portraits of her parents, done years ago by a painter who had visited the glen in search of mountains to paint, and who paid for his keep with them.
Bruce, constantly looking around as if he expected to see Malcolm, carried Flora's bundles, while Flora carried Jenny and Meg, suppressing her sobs, took charge of Rosie. The other families were making their way towards the ship too, and Flora, seeing a steady stream of unknown people, burdened like themselves, wondered how they were all to fit onto what appeared to be little more than the sort of boats used for fishing.
She discovered, as they neared the side of the vessel, that it was larger than she'd imagined. There was a great deal of activity, sailors shouting as they clambered in the rigging, others rolling great barrels to stow on the decks, or lifting them with rope cradles into the holds. A couple of cows lowed mournfully in a pen in the stern, and several crates of fowl were stacked on top of each other, the birds squawking their displeasure at their confinement.
'I thought we couldn't bring animals,' she said to Jamie.
'Not our own. They are for the journey, fresh milk and eggs, and meat. They also have rabbits, I think.'
Flora began to feel more hopeful. It might not be so dreadful a voyage after all.
They joined the others waiting to board. Rough ropes guided them up the gangplank, and a couple of burly sailors helped them at the top. Flora stepped onto the deck and looked around her in amazement. She hadn't been able to see this from the dockside. Almost the entire deck was covered with coils of rope, crates and hatchways. There was barely room to stand, and more people were crowding on after her.
On one of the crates, ignoring a sailor's harassed commands to get down from there at once, stood a thin, dark-haired, merry-eyed young man in the tattered remnants of an army uniform. He was playing lively music on a fiddle, and Flora's heart lifted at the sound. She smiled at him, and at the pretty girl with tumbling black curls who stood beside him, her vivid blue eyes sparkling with fun as she sang along with the fiddle.
'This way, here's where we go down to our deck,' Jamie said, taking her arm and pushing through the crowd of people. 'It's a steep ladder. I'll go first, then take Jenny from you.'
The hatch was a small open doorway, and it was dark inside. Flora could see nothing but the top of a ladder and a rope handhold alongside. Jamie, more familiar from being aboard the previous day, went down backwards until his head was level with the deck.
'Give Jenny to me. Then when you're safely down, I'll take Rosie.'
'Can you see?' Flora asked. 'It's so dark!'
'Better when you're down here. There are portholes, they let in light. But to one side they're against the wharf. It'll be better when we're moving.'
Flora passed Jenny to him. The child was chuckling in delight, and Flora ruefully thought that she was the least concerned of them all. She turned round, gave Meg who was close behind her an encouraging smile, and put a tentative foot on the top rung of the ladder.
After what seemed an age of careful manoeuvring she felt Jamie's arm round her waist.
'Well done, you're one step above the deck.'
Letting out a sigh of relief Flora relaxed. It was still dark, but she could hear people moving about, and in the gloom she could see what seemed like beams and walls stretching out before her.
'Take Jenny,' Jamie said, handing her the child.
As he climbed up a few steps to reach for Rosie, Flora felt the first movement of the ship. She hurriedly grasped the rope handrail to steady herself. 'We're not going already, are we?' she asked, a sudden wave of terror sweeping over her.
'No, not for a while. There'll be time to settle in before they cast off. Here, take Rosie while I help Meg.'
It was easiest to sit on the rough planking, Flora decided. She couldn't hold two wriggling children and the handrail. But within a few seconds Meg had descended, and Jamie picked up Rosie. He was so tall he had to stoop to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling.
'This way. We've made spaces for all the glen families together, near the stern.'
'Spaces?' Flora said apprehensively. 'Don't we have some kind of privacy?'
She'd had no idea what to expect, just a vague notion that ships contained rooms which were called cabins. When Jamie had explained about theirs on the main deck being taken by others, she'd assumed there would still be cabins below.
'Not on this ship, apart from a couple for the captain and mate, and the ones we should have had,' Jamie said. 'It's a timber ship, brings wood from Canada on the outward journey. The hold has to be open. But we've put blankets to give us some privacy.'
As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom Flora saw with growing dismay that what she'd taken to be walls were in fact blankets and shawls slung onto the beams. They separated the open deck into compartments, where families were struggling to sort out their belongings in the confined spaces. Surely they couldn't be expected to live in these pens, like cattle, for six weeks or more?
Jamie stopped suddenly and she almost cannoned into him. 'Here we are. Bruce, Gordon and Meg to one side, Betty and Alexander on the other.'
Flora struggled to stay calm and not burst into tears. The space Jamie was indicating was no bigger than their bed at home. The crates and boxes containing their belongings were arranged at the sides, taking up a high proportion of the available space. Rearranged, Flora supposed they would make seats of a kind. But the headroom at the back was only a few feet high. How could they manage, cooped up like this for weeks on end? Had they made a terrible mistake?
***
Chapter 6
When Jamie suggested they went on deck to see the boat sail, Meg refused with a shudder.
'I'll look after the children,' she said quietly.
She had been subdued all day, weeping frequently, but doing her best to suppress the sobs and help Flora where she could. After Flora got over her first dismay at the cramped conditions they would have to endure, she set about rearranging the boxes containing their supplies.
'I can cook for you as well,' she said to Bruce. 'It will be easier for us all,
so let's combine what we have.'
Bruce and Jamie helped, moving the crates to where she indicated, and in the process creating a little more space for them all.
'I need the boxes of vegetables at the front,' she said. 'We'll try to keep them for as long as possible, but they'll flavour the stews. The salted beef and dried cod will last for longer. And the meal chest, that must be handy. You can put the tools and most of the household things at the back, we won't need them.'
'Where do we cook?' Bruce asked. He had passed from impotent fury at Malcolm's desertion, through bitter anguish at losing his only son in such a way, to a grim awareness that he and Meg had no option but to make the best of it.
'On deck when the sea is calm,' Jamie said. 'If there are storms they won't allow fires, or even lamps. So we'd better make extra whenever we have the chance.'
Flora looked round the cramped deck. She was beginning to get used to the heavy gloom, and thought she could see to the end, where the sides of the ship curved inwards towards the prow. There must have been twenty or more family groups, each in their own tiny compartments, and most, she judged, had three or more young children with them. Many of these were quiet, bemused, huddled on the thin mattresses which had been laid on the deck. Some wept noisily, not heeding the frustrated efforts of their parents trying to calm them. Others were excited, boisterous, ignoring orders to shut up and stop getting in the way, as the women tried to organise their quarters, and men heaved trunks and chests around in attempts to create a little more living space.
'Come and take a last look at Scotland,' Jamie said softly.
Flora was about to shake her head. She was exhausted, the nausea of her pregnancy had returned, aggravated by the insidious swaying of the boat, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until they reached Nova Scotia. Then the reality hit her. Having been preoccupied for days with the preparations for the voyage, she'd had no leisure to consider what leaving Scotland meant. She would never again see her beloved mountains, feel the soft air, hear the bubbling waters of the stream as it ran over the rocks outside her cottage. Never again would she marvel at the glorious sweeps of heather visible from her doorway. There had been no time to visit her sister, or her aunt, or any of her more distant kin. The small business she had started of selling embroidered fans and reticules would no longer exist.
'I don't know if I can,' she said, a catch in her voice.
'Yes, you can, and one day, if all goes well, I promise we'll come home to see everyone.'
She protested no more, but went with him and clambered up onto the deck. Bruce came too, but Gordon said he'd prefer to stay and finish sorting out their quarters.
'I'll help Meg with the children,' he offered quietly.
A man Flora took to be the captain was standing on the gangway talking to two men who gesticulated angrily towards the boat.
'If we don't go now we'll miss the tide!' he said curtly. 'You can come aboard and search if you will, but then you'll have to come all the way to Nova Scotia.'
'I'm ordering you in the name of the king!'
'I don't have a king. We chopped his head off, or had you forgotten? And on board what I say is law.'
'I've already explained once,' one of the others said wearily. 'The man's a felon, and he was seen in lodgings near here. The woman who owns the house described him, and it fits our man. She said he was sailing with you.'
'I've none aboard of the name Gordon MacLeod. You've seen my passenger list for yourselves.'
Flora suppressed a gasp. What would happen if they discovered that Bruce's friend was sailing under a false name? She looked at Jamie, but he was unconcerned. Thank goodness she hadn't confided in him. She glanced round to see if Bruce had heard, but he'd gone closer to the prow, and was looking ahead. He almost certainly hadn't heard the altercation.
Ought she to try herself to warn Gordon somehow? If the men began to search she would find a way of doing so, but to move now might attract unwelcome attention. She swallowed hard, and tried to appear fascinated by the scene on the far bank of the river.
The argument was continuing, neither side prepared to give way. The sailors were scrambling in the rigging, and one of the sails unfurled, rocking the ship and causing the gangway to sway perilously. The men stepped hastily from it, pushing past the captain, who was laughing uproariously.
'So you've decided to join us after all? I'll collect your passage money now, if you please.'
'Of course we're not coming all the way, you fool. You can put us ashore at Greenock or Port Glasgow. If that man's aboard we mean to find him, and put him back where he belongs.'
The captain shrugged, and ordered the sailors who'd been standing by to haul up the gangway. Grinning, the sailors began to heave on the ropes. Then one of the women who'd been clinging to the rails suddenly screamed and pushed past them to hurl herself down it, falling as she tripped near the bottom and rolling onto the wharf.
'Mary! Come back!' another woman screamed, trying to fight her way past the sailors. They'd recovered from the initial surprise and stepped to block the way. 'Let me past, it's my sister!'
'Too late, lassie,' one of them said. 'Let her go. It takes some of them that way.'
Flora watched with intense sympathy as Mary, still lying where she'd fallen, was stroking and kissing the ground, her shoulders heaving with convulsive sobs.
Her sister was hustled out of the way of the gangplank, and a young man pulled her roughly into his arms.
'She dinna want to come, ye ken that,' he said brusquely. 'She'll never leave Scotland now.'
Within minutes Flora could not see the sky for the masses of billowing sails which sprang out above her. They slapped noisily in the wind, the masts groaned with the strain, and the sailors were shouting incomprehensible commands to one another. Those emigrants who had ventured onto the deck, along with the men seeking Gordon, who she guessed were sheriff's officers, were herded to one side. She'd have to find a way of warning Gordon as soon as possible, but until the bustle of departure was finished there was nothing either she or they could do. The ropes and chains attaching the boat to the wharf were loosened, and the boat began to dance as the wind caught the sails and swept it all out into the middle of the river.
Flora staggered as the deck shifted under her, but Jamie was laughing like a boy, sniffing the salty air as he held her tightly.
'This is a grand adventure, my love. We'll have a new, better life for our children.'
Rosie and Jenny would not remember Scotland at all, Flora thought sadly, and her new babe would not even be born there. Then she was caught up in the excitement, as the people about them hung over the rails, waving to the crowds on shore who had come to wave farewell. Mary, she was thankful to see, had been picked up by some of the women and was being led quietly away. Many were crying, straining for a last glimpse of loved ones, but others were gleeful, eager to embrace their new life, unafraid of what lay ahead. Then a piper on board began to play a lament, and there were tears in most eyes.
They stayed where they were, watching the banks of the Clyde slip past, the hills visible in the distance, gradually disappearing into the mist. The ship's motion was gentle, only a small movement which Flora soon became familiar with. She watched the sailors as they moved, saw how they braced themselves to counterbalance the rocking, and thought it was not unlike the motion of the pony she'd ridden as a child.
Then Bruce appeared at her side. 'I can't feel both so terribly sad and yet excited,' he muttered. 'It's bewildering.'
Flora tugged at his sleeve and moved slightly away from Jamie. 'Bruce, those are sheriff's men, seeking Gordon MacLeod,' she whispered hurriedly. He gave her an appalled glance, then looked up over her shoulder, and nodded his comprehension.
'Good day, Mistress,' a deep voice beside her attracted her attention and made her jump nervously.
Swinging round she saw a huge man with dark piercing eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a neatly trimmed black beard, holding out his h
and. Had he heard? She prayed he had not, or they would all be hauled ignominiously off the ship.
'Captain Duclos,' Jamie introduced her. 'My wife, Captain.'
Flora studied him. This was the man who, Jamie was convinced, had cheated them of the cabins they had booked, probably through accepting a bribe from other passengers. She wanted to treat him with the contempt he deserved, but apart from the present danger to Gordon, for the next six weeks he was in charge, and she dared not lose her temper with him. But that did not mean she had to show him more than ordinary courtesy.
'Good day to you,' she replied coolly. 'This is all so new to me, I've not even been on a small rowing boat before.'
She glanced round at the ship, gesturing vaguely. Bruce, she was thankful to see, had vanished. He would have gone to warn Gordon.
'You speak English?' the captain said, and grinned, showing fleshy pink lips and big white teeth. Flora shivered. He looked repulsive. 'Some of your compatriots have only the Gaelic, and I shall need an interpreter at times. Your husband has offered.'
His voice had a slight accent, and Flora recalled his French origins.
'I thought many of the Scots who have settled in in Nova Scotia spoke Gaelic.'
'They do, and many of the older settlers, like my family, are French, of course. Like America, Canada is a mixed country. I trust you are looking forward to the voyage. It's a fair wind, once we reach the Firth, and at this time of year we should make good progress.'
He nodded and moved away, speaking to some of the other people still on deck, and Flora watched him. He gave off an air of competence, and despite her personal aversion to him she felt oddly certain that the ship was in good hands.
At last they went back down what Flora learned was called the companionway. Meg was talking to a girl a year or so older than she was, while they both played with Rosie. Jenny was fast asleep, tucked up in a corner of their space. Gordon and Bruce, she was thankful to see, were nowhere to be seen. She hoped Gordon had found somewhere to hide.
The girl with Meg looked up and smiled. 'Hello, I'm Annie Cameron, from near Loch Eil.'
To A Far Country Page 8
