Jamie MacLeod

by Michael Phillips

  “Well, the city’s not so sound asleep as I thought,” Robbie said as they continued on.

  Jamie remained silent, with each step confronting new sights, smells, and sounds—and new emotions within herself. Half terrified, half excited at the prospect of the unknown, she was thankful for Robbie’s strong, confident presence at her side. The blizzard had proved a blessing in disguise—she would never have been able to come into this awesome place alone. What would she possibly have done?

  Then the words she had spoken over her grandfather’s grave returned to her—the words he himself had spoken many times: “The Lord sall preser yer gaein’ an’ yer comin’ frae noo till all time, an’ fe e’ermore.”

  It was true! The Lord had provided Robbie just at the precise moment of her greatest need. The Lord would never leave her alone! Perhaps the city need not overwhelm her, young and inexperienced and ignorant though she was.

  Gradually the night sounds of the city increased. With the sounds came a peculiar something Jamie began to notice in the air—a tangy, pungent, unfamiliar odor. She wrinkled her nose, and Robbie laughed.

  “’Tis the sea,” he said. “We’re drawin’ near the harbor. Won’t be much longer now, Jamie. Don’t you love the smell of the brine and fish and ships?”

  “It might take me a spell t’ learn. But whaur are we gaein’?”

  “I’ve a friend I’m taking you to. She’ll be glad to put you up.”

  Within ten minutes more the quiet of the city’s outskirts had been altogether overcome by a host of new sights and sounds as they reached the docks. The low drone of a foghorn sounded in the distance. The creaking of wooden ships and the constant tugging of miles of rope came from the water’s edge. Nearer at hand were the noises of boisterous laughter and singing from a row of dockside public houses. To a carefree spirit like Robbie Taggart, the notion never entered his mind that such a place was hardly suitable for a young lass, a mere child, like Jamie. The docks of Aberdeen were his home, and he thought no more of bringing a friend to this particular home as a gentleman would of inviting a visitor into his parlor. Besides, where else was he to take her?

  At length he came to a stop before a corner building, set apart from the rest of the inns and pubs they had passed. It seemed slightly more well kept than most, though the sounds filtering through the closed portal were just as loud. On a sign above the door were the words The Golden Doubloon, and a treasure chest filled with colorful pirate’s booty was painted below the name.

  Robbie gave the door a shove and stepped in.

  Jamie hesitated. Robbie turned and motioned her to follow. With cautious step she put her foot up onto the threshold, and was inside.

  She squinted to take in the scene. Tables were all about, filled with men drinking ale, playing cards. Others stood. A fire blazed in the huge fireplace in the far wall. A thin cloud of blue-gray smoke hung in the air, and the volume of talk and commotion was high. Her senses had only begun to adjust to the scene when an ear-piercing shriek split the air. Unconsciously her hands sought Robbie’s arm and her fingers dug into the skin. She recovered herself and stepped back just as the owner of both the yell and the establishment hurried toward them.

  “Why it is Robbie Taggart!” exclaimed the voice. “You old sea dog! I was wondering when we’d ever lay eyes on you again!”

  The hardy, buxom woman who greeted them could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty in age, especially to Jamie’s unpracticed eye. She was attractive in a harsh and rugged way, and might have been even more so were it not for the heavily applied lip rouge and face powder. Her bright green dress accented the ample curves of her figure, and she bustled toward Robbie and threw her arms around him.

  “Good evening, Sadie, my darling!” he laughed. “But you don’t think I’d go off forever and leave you without a word. What kind of bloke do you take me for?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, love,” she replied. “I’d never hold it against you—’tis the nature of the beast!”

  As she spoke her eyes turned toward Jamie. “And what’s this you’ve got in tow? Picking up strays, are you, Robbie Taggart?”

  “’Tis no stray! This here’s my friend Jamie MacLeod.”

  Sadie looked Jamie up and down, then shook her head. “And what are you going to do with him? He hardly looks fit for the sea! Too scrawny, Taggart, you should know that!”

  Laughing, Robbie struggled to reply. “The joke’s on you, Sadie. My friend’s a her, not a him! She’ll not be looking for a life on the sea.”

  “Hmm,” said Sadie, looking over his thin companion again. “Well, well, well,” she added with renewed interest and a slightly cocked eyebrow.

  “And as for what I’m going to do with her,” Robbie continued, “I was hoping you would help me there. This is her first time in the city.”

  “Me!” Sadie exclaimed with a hint of the same shrieking tone with which she had greeted her favorite sailor. “And what would I do with a child? I’m not the mothering type, as you know full well, Robbie Taggart. Besides, I have a business to run, not a home for runaways!”

  “She’ll need no mothering, Sadie, only a place to stay. And maybe some small work.”

  “And what, pray tell, Robbie, would the likes of her know about a place like this!”

  “You could teach her, Sadie. I know there’s a soft spot down in that hard heart of yours. She needs the guiding hand of a woman, and I can think of none better suited for the challenge than you yourself, Sadie.”

  “Humph!” said Sadie, remaining silent and looking Jamie over with a critical eye once again. “Doubt I’d get much work outta her,” she muttered almost to herself. “Such a scraggly little spindle of a thing!”

  As they spoke, Jamie stood dumbly at Robbie’s side, staring from one speaker to the other, wanting to cry, run away, and curl up and go to sleep all at the same time. This was terrible, being talked about like a sheep at the auction!

  “Well, you’re no doubt cold and hungry,” said Sadie at last. “We can talk about all that later.” She prodded Robbie toward a chair by the fire, and took no further notice of Jamie.

  Jamie slid quietly into a chair next to Robbie, and for the following hour was little more than an inconspicuous shadow amid the activity around her. Robbie’s attentions were distracted as now one, now another of the patrons of the place made their way over to greet and chat with him. There was no doubt that his nature and easy manner had won him a large following in the city—wherever he went he was a favorite.

  Almost distractedly she listened as her future was discussed. She was too tired and too overwhelmed to say much of anything, and made no protest as Sadie agreed to let her stay on as a maid in exchange for her board and one farthing a week. Her eyes began to droop from the warmth of the fire and she hardly heard Robbie as he took up her cause and was able to extract from Sadie the promise of three farthings a week in addition to board. She had drifted asleep and was slumped over in the wooden chair before Robbie again took notice of his charge.

  By then Jamie was too sound asleep even to care what happened to her as Robbie lifted her tenderly and carried her in his arms up the narrow wooden stairway to a tiny room at the back of the inn where Sadie had made a bed for her.

  Depositing her gently on the bed, Robbie followed Sadie from the room. As he reached the door he stopped, turned around, and returned momentarily to the bedside.

  “Sleep well, and happy dreams, shepherd lass,” he whispered, pulling a blanket up and settling it around her shoulders.

  He gazed for one moment more upon the peaceful sleeping face of the girl he hardly knew, then turned again and hurried downstairs, where Sadie, his friends, cold ale, and a warm fire were awaiting his company.

  15

  First Days in the City

  The wedge of light forcing its way through the narrow window above Jamie’s head awakened her the following morning.

  She rubbed her eyes, stared blankly about, and tried to call to mind where she
was; then all at once she remembered the events of the previous evening, which had ended in a blur in front of a roaring fire.

  She lay still, recalling the past four days with Robbie Taggart, the people of his acquaintance she had met along the way, and wondering if she would ever see Donachie again, with its crisp, bubbling burns and bright broom and rich meadows. What would become of Missy and the sheep? Would George Ellice discover she was gone before next spring? He had been due up that very week, but then the storm could have changed everything.

  But she had made the decision to come to the city.

  For now at least, this was her home. Was this the life her father had been seeking when he dreamed of Aberdeen? With a sigh she thought, Working for Sadie Malone can hardly compare with herding the sheep over the dear green hills of Donachie!

  She crawled from her bed and, standing on tiptoe, tried to look out the only window of the room. It was so smudged with coal-soot she could barely make out the wall of a high building next to Sadie’s, separated from it only by a narrow, dirty close. She could see nothing else. It was certainly not Donachie!

  Well, this is where my new life begins, she thought to herself. This is what Papa would have wanted!

  Jamie pulled on her boots, which had been set carefully by her bedside, and opened the door with a loud creak. Glancing tentatively this way and that, she walked slowly down the hallway until she heard the rattle of pots and pans. Following the sounds, she made her way downstairs to Sadie Malone’s kitchen.

  The place was dimly lit, and especially cheerless since the overcast winter’s sky permitted little sunshine to enter the small, high windows. This seemed like a room where necessary work was carried out but void of all enjoyment.

  To her patrons, Sadie was perfectly suited to her innkeeper’s calling. She was friendly to all and a stranger to none. She could charm even the drunkest sailor to set down his glass and lay aside his temper when angered to a row by some fellow roughneck. She was beguiler and seductress alike to boys at sixteen who considered Sadie their first love and to men at sixty who considered her their last. Diplomatic when necessary, she had put a stop to many potentially ugly situations with her own two hands. Shrewd in business, downright surly when it was demanded of her, Sadie Malone was nobody’s fool. Her customers, largely sailors and dock-workers, would have given their lives for the woman. Those who crossed her quickly learned to watch their step, for even the most hardened mariner had a fearful respect for Sadie Malone. She was the mother and wife they had left behind when they had taken to the sea. Those who came regularly, therefore, loved Sadie with a strange mixture of sentiments—but they all loved her.

  Sadie considered herself merely marking time as mistress of The Golden Doubloon. She had inherited the place from her father, and because she needed to survive, she ran it. But she had always harbored different notions about where her future lay. She never spoke of these things. Though friendly to all, she opened the depths of her heart to no one, man or woman. She had few of what could be considered real friends despite the abundance of friendships which came her way. Though Robbie might be counted one of the few friends she did have, she had her own reasons for telling him nothing of the dreams which went through her head in the loneliness of the night after everyone had left. Though many had fancied her, and had dreamed of her face during their long months at sea, Sadie had never been truly in love. Her youth lay closed in behind the necessary armor she wore.

  As Jamie peered through the doorway of the kitchen, Sadie was pouring oats from a burlap bag into a large bubbling kettle over the hearth. She was simply clad in a plain brown linen work frock.

  “I hope you’re not accustomed to sleeping late every morning,” said Sadie over her shoulder, without preamble or greeting.

  “Oh, no, mem!” Jamie answered quickly. “Tisna often the sun beats me oot o’ my bed.”

  “Well, let’s hope not! Three farthings a week’s a steep sum to pay for a sluggard.”

  “I’m a good worker, mem! I promise I’ll ne’er sleep so lang again!”

  “Don’t waste any more time jibbering over it. There’s plenty of work to do. There aren’t many customers in the morning, but what there is will be here soon.”

  Leaving the kettle for a moment, Sadie took a broom from a corner and thrust it into Jamie’s hands. “The front room needs to be swept up, and the tables must be scrubbed.”

  Clutching the broom, Jamie hurried out to the main room of the inn, asking neither about Robbie or her own breakfast, both of which were on her mind. Though there was a gnawing in her stomach as she swept, she could not keep her thoughts from turning to the puzzling sailor who had rescued her from death and had brought her to this place. Would she ever see him again? He had said they were friends. But suddenly everything around her was so new! Did she even know what a friend in the city was supposed to be? Did she know what anything was supposed to be? She didn’t even know what a farthing was. Robbie had argued in behalf of three instead of one. Did that mean she might be sooner able to—

  Be able to do what?

  What exactly would become of her in Aberdeen?

  Her father wanted her to be a lady. Was Sadie Malone a lady? Was she now a lady sweeping Sadie Malone’s floor? If this wasn’t it, then what was she to do now? Perhaps Sadie would know. Surely Sadie was a lady and knew all about such things, whatever might be the maid that swept her floors.

  She swept until the floor was cleaner than even Sadie had seen it, at least within memory. Then she set about scrubbing the tables with a vigor that would have worn out ten strong men. So deep was she in concentration that she had not noticed anyone else had come into the room. When she glanced up, there stood Robbie leaning against the doorjamb. A momentary thrill coursed through Jamie. She smiled, and looked down, not understanding the strange feeling of embarrassment she felt.

  “You’re going to wear those tables right through if you keep that up,” he said with a grin.

  “I didna want t’ shame ye before yer friend.”

  “I doubt you’d ever do that! Besides, it won’t do her, or me, or you any good if you wear out on your first day.”

  Jamie said nothing, but moderated her pace slightly.

  “It was real kind o’ ye,” she said after a moment, “t’ speak o’ me t’ Mistress Malone.”

  “Robbie just can’t help himself when it comes to good deeds!” replied Sadie, walking toward them as she emerged from the kitchen. “And a good morning to you, Robbie, my love,” she added with a broad smile. “What calls you out so early on such a chilly morn? After last night, I thought you’d sleep till midafternoon!”

  “I had to come by to see how my friend was getting on,” he said.

  “She’ll be getting along fine as long as she learns to sleep a little less.”

  “Give her time, Sadie,” said Robbie. “And I also came for another taste of your wonderful cooking!”

  Sadie smiled. “Well, be quick about it, child,” she said to Jamie. “Clear a table for my guest!” Casting another smile in Robbie’s direction, she disappeared again into the kitchen.

  As Robbie took a seat, he continued to eye Jamie with keen interest while she slowly made her way from table to table, scrubbing them first with a moist cloth, then with a dry.

  “Ye’ll nae doobt be leavin’ fer somewhere in yer ship soon?” she asked at length.

  “I doubt the weather will permit it for a few months yet,” Robbie replied. “There’s a heap of work to do though, painting and scrubbing and patching and mending rope and cleaning. And a rumor’s about that the mate’s left and isn’t coming back.”

  “What’s a mate?”

  “He’s the captain’s second in command—you do know what a captain is?”

  “’Course I do!”

  “Well, the captain’s fond of me. He’s always kinda takin’ a likin’ to me since I was a kid, and talk has it I might be up for ship’s mate.”

  “That’s somethin’ ye been wantin’, is i
t?”

  “Who wouldn’t! Maybe ’tis a bit like you becoming a lady.”

  He paused. “No, on second thought,” he went on, “I guess being captain would be like being a lady—just as farfetched, you might say. But getting to be mate is as close as the likes of me’ll ever see.”

  “An’ are ye sayin’ the same o’ me, then?” asked Jamie, stopping for a moment with her work and looking toward him.

  “’Tis right to dream, Jamie. I have my share of dreams, no doubt. But you must realize that the common working man has his place—just like maids and shepherds. And not many of us get to be captains or ladies. Just doesn’t happen, that’s all. You’ve got to be born and bred to it.”

  “My papa owned land.”

  “Did he now?” Robbie replied, showing a hint of surprise. “Then perhaps you are already a lady, Jamie.”

  “I dinna think so. But he said I’d be a lady someday—that is, if he hadna died.”

  They both fell silent for a moment.

  “But it canna do nae harm t’ try, cud it?”

  “Not at all,” answered Robbie enthusiastically. “But for now, why don’t you just show me what a grand maid you are and fetch my breakfast.”

  “I’m owin’ ye, fer helpin’ me like this,” said Jamie as she left the room.

  “Nonsense! But when you become a lady, you can hire me to skipper your private yacht. That will be repayment in plenty!”

  She laughed, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  ———

  Later that night, bone-tired, Jamie crept up to her cubicle of a room. Sadie had dismissed her a few minutes past ten. The place was still full of rowdy men, but there were no more meals to be served, and Sadie could handle the ale.

  The work had hardly let up a moment since she first applied the broom to the floor, although she had managed to get enough to eat. She could hardly imagine how Sadie herself, in the kitchen while Jamie still slept, and facing several more hours until the final customer was gone, held up day after day. She had not observed her daily habit of a brief afternoon nap, and on this day Jamie felt only sympathy with her employer as the first one up and the last to bed.