Thus with such thoughts and insecurities circling through her mind, Sadie’s sour mood vented itself most directly upon Jamie, whom she subconsciously blamed for her failure to further her designs with Robbie.
To Jamie, however, the added load of work came almost as a relief, as healthy labor always is to a distressed mind and heart. She scrubbed and scoured and washed, and then did it all over again when muddy, rain-soaked patrons tracked in new filth on Sadie’s hard-polished floor.
After many days came a break in the weather. Occasional showers and overcast skies continued intermittently, but the severe winds died and within another week and a half it appeared as if the first hints of spring were in the air.
Longing for the toss and pitch of the open sea and the prospect of new adventures, and altogether unaware of the emotions being silently harbored by the two women, Robbie came to the Doubloon to bid his farewells. In an especially exuberant mood at the challenges lying ahead, he explained that he would be off on the next morning’s tide. He could not understand the sulky countenances his news seemed to bring. Goodbyes were never final for Robbie. He would see them both again soon, in the meantime they ought to enjoy what came their way, not drag with long faces.
But Jamie was still so innocent of life that he did feel a bit guilty for not finding another situation better suited to her. He could sympathize with her. However, Sadie had never acted this way before.
“Perk up, Sadie, my love,” he said. “I’ll be tracking mud through your door again before you know it!”
With that, and a final kiss for each of his two friends in Aberdeen, he took his leave, oblivious to the wasted hearts he was leaving behind.
After that, day followed dreary day, indistinguishable one from the other. In the emptiness of having lost her only friend, the drudgery of everyday work obscured the sight of any possible meaning in life. Jamie’s father had loved her, and he had been taken away. Her grandfather had loved her, and he too had been taken from her. Then Robbie had been a friend who cared about her, and now he too was gone. In all the world, there was only Sadie. And Sadie hardly seemed to care that she existed. In the drab, colorless boredom of her daily toil, she forgot her grand purpose in coming to the city. She forgot her father’s dream, her grandfather’s faith, and her desire to learn to read.
From the moment Jamie awoke each morning, Sadie loaded her with work. And if things were slow at the Doubloon, Sadie hired her out to other public houses along the quay that were themselves in the midst of spring cleaning, retaining for herself the lion’s share of whatever payment was received. When Jamie’s day ended several hours after the guests were served their dinner, she had little strength other than what was necessary to climb to her room and drop into bed until a small glimmer of light penetrated her sooty window the following morning, wakening her to a new day on the gloomy treadmill.
The thought occasionally flitted through her mind that she might leave. She had a few shillings saved by this time. But where would she go? Would there now be anything to return to on the mountain? How could she survive there alone? And had not Aberdeen always been her goal? The future looked dismal.
One morning in early spring, Sadie handed Jamie a small pouch with several coins inside and sent her to the fish market with thorough instructions. This was an altogether new assignment, for ordinarily Sadie had not trusted Jamie with such tasks. But with a willing servant like Jamie about, why, thought Sadie, should she work herself into an early grave?
With such a rare opportunity to get out and see something of the city, Jamie eagerly accepted the assignment. The day was crisp and cold, and the sky threatened rain. She fetched a basket and her coat, then tucked the money pouch into her pocket and was off.
Walking down the winding road through the Inches, she took in the wide assortment of Aberdeen’s more common elements. Crammed together in dismal and reckless fashion, taverns and shops, whose wares might have greatly interested the legal authorities, stood next to filthy and ramshackle tenement buildings—all situated against the gray backdrop of stone and timber yards with the dirty channel of the Dee at its feet. Children darted in and out from some of the tenements, and one bedraggled little boy of about eight, looking behind him as he emerged from the shadows, collided with Jamie and fell to the ground. Picking himself up, he stood dead still for a moment, perhaps thinking he was in for it. But the moment he saw Jamie’s smile, he turned and darted off again into one of the dingy closes.
The fish market was about a half mile away, but Jamie took her time as she walked past the shipyards. She knew she was nearing her destination first by the permeating odor of fish in the air, and then by the loud din of voices of fishmongers and customers engaged in the age-old and heated process of barter. The open-air stalls of the market were crowded with people, barrels, tables, carts. Everywhere were heaps and piles of haddock, herring, kippers, and every other variety of fish imaginable.
Locating a herring dealer, Jamie took a deep breath—a fishy one to be sure!—and nudged her way through the crowd, at last taking her place behind the others at the stall, waiting patiently while those in front carried on the inevitable process of haggling with the dealer. It seemed that the major prerequisite for success in this form of bargaining was simple volume. And when each sale had been consummated, Jamie was never quite certain who had gotten the best of it, nor what price had been settled on. Then came her turn to be served.
She stepped forward, cleared her throat, and spoke as loudly as she could, “I’d be wantin’ sum o’ yer herrin’,” she said, though her voice could hardly be heard in the tumult.
“Aye!” said the dealer, nudging his companion with a knowing grin. “Where ye be from, lassie? We dinna get many the likes o’ you around here! Hey, Johnny, ye hear that? She says she’s wantin’ some herrin’!”
“Fancy that!” rejoined Johnny. “Herrin’! Do ye suppose we hae ony left? Ha, ha, ha!”
Jamie’s face reddened as she realized they were mocking her.
“Well, I’m thinkin’ I maun gae t’ the next man, then,” she said, trying to pluck up her courage.
“How many are ye wantin’, miss?” asked the dealer, still laughing.
“I’m lookin’ fer four dozen,” Jamie replied, “if the price be right.”
Here the dealer coughed momentarily, immediately modifying his demeanor. “We’re only havin’ a bit o’ fun. Now, what can I do fer ye?”
“What price are ye askin’?”
“Well, for a lass like yersel’, an’ because o’ the trouble I hae caused ye, I’ll give ye a right good bargain at eight pence a dozen.”
“Eight pence, a bargain?” said Jamie. Sadie had given her strict instructions to pay no more than six pence a dozen.
“An’ only because I don’t like a dissatisfied customer.”
“But I haena sae mich,” Jamie sputtered, by now having forgotten all about the indelicate art of wrangling over the price.
She felt a shove from behind and someone called out, “Hey, ye maunna tak all day wi’ yer argle-barglin’!”
“Weel,” said the dealer with a cunning look in his eyes, which Jamie was unable to discern, “how much do ye have?”
Jamie took out her pouch and counted the coins to be sure, then answered, “Thirty pence.”
“Well, miss. ’Cause I like ye, an’ am feelin’ particular generous t’day, I’m goin’ t’ sell ye all four dozen fer jist thirty pence!”
Hardly awaiting her reply, the man reached out his hand toward the coins while his companion immediately began counting the fish into her basket. It was all over before Jamie could take stock of the situation, but she thought she had come away saving Sadie some money, although she wasn’t quite sure. She turned away with a half-bewildered expression on her face and began making her way back through the crowd, anxious to get away from the smelly place. But by the time she had made it to the fringes of the throng, having been turned around several times, she found herself at the opposite end of
the market from where she had entered. Not the least inclined to try to work her way back through the fish market, she turned into a nearby street, hopeful of working her way back around it to Market Street on the other side. She tried several back streets, but each seemed to lead in the wrong direction. She wandered about, gradually getting farther and farther from her goal, each street seeming to turn in confusing and patternless directions, in a hopeless array of twists and angles that led nowhere. All was gray and colorless, and Jamie began to grow frightened.
She walked into a street, but almost immediately realized it was but a dead-end alley. She turned quickly to exit, but as she did she saw two imposing figures who had stepped in behind her and now stood blocking the way. They were two youths of about her own age, one quite tall, the other muscular. Trying to convince herself they meant no harm, she walked straight toward them, but they would not part to let her pass.
The taller of the two spoke. “Willie here says ye’re but a scrawny lad, but I says ye’re a lass. We’d like ye t’ settle oor bet fer us.”
“Willie’s wrang,” she answered bluntly. “Noo, if ye’d let me pass.”
“The lass wants t’ be passin’, Willie. What do ye think?”
“I’m thinkin’ I dinna like t’ lose a bet.”
His tall companion laughed.
“Maybe we ought t’ make her pay.”
Willie brightened at the prospect. “What ye got in yer basket there?”
“Only sum fish fer my mistress.”
“Get it, Willie,” said the other. “Let’s see.”
Jamie stepped back, clutching the basket to her.
“Please,” she implored. “My mistress’d be sum awful angered if anythin’—”
But before she could finish, Willie lurched toward her. But Jamie jumped to one side.
Willie slipped and sprawled to his knees and his cohort laughed uproariously. Willie snarled and made for another attack.
“Jist a minute, Willie,” said his companion. “Ain’t no fair fight wi’ a wee lassie the likes o’ this. We ought t’ let her pass.”
Willie shot him a rabid glance. But the other youth caught his arm and pulled him back toward the alley entrance. “Come on, lad, like gent’men.”
Still hesitant, Willie complied, perhaps because he sensed some deceptive ulterior motive in his friend’s sudden turnabout.
Jamie relaxed for a moment. Perhaps they were only a couple of pranksters having some innocent fun after all. She started to walk forward, and as she did they removed their caps and swept them forward in a deep bow. Quickening her pace, Jamie broke into a run. But as she shot between the two, one of them stuck out his foot at precisely the right moment. Jamie sprawled on her face, the basket flew from her hands, and the contents went flying in every direction over the grimy street.
Recovering themselves from their laughter, Willie and his companion approached, aimed several punishing kicks at Jamie where she lay on the street, then hurriedly gathered up the fish and disappeared.
Jamie rolled over, but only in time to see their retreating heels fly around the brick corner of the alley. She tried to stand but her head was dizzy. Her hands and knees were badly scraped; a deep cut from a piece of broken glass was bleeding rather freely; and her ribs and legs ached with dull pain from the boys’ boots.
Fearing the two thieves would return, Jamie forced herself to her feet, gripping a wall to steady herself. She hardly knew what to do now. Not only was she still lost, now she was empty-handed, and the thought of facing Sadie with neither money nor fish was almost as distressing as another beating at the hands of the young thugs.
By the time she limped out of the alley, tears were streaming down her face.
“Maybe she’d belief me if I promise t’ pay her frae my siller,” she sniffed to herself, hardly thinking that it would take over a hundred of the farthings she worked so hard for to repay the thirty pence. And in the meantime Sadie would still be without her fish!
She walked slowly and aimlessly down the street, hardly noticing the approaching carriage. It stopped and a lady emerged, just as a wave of faintness came upon Jamie and she leaned against the wall of a building to steady herself.
“My dear! My dear!” cried the lady, hurrying toward her. “What is it?”
Jamie looked up, but could not immediately find her voice. Just as the lady reached her, Jamie’s knees buckled under her. She grasped for support, clutching the lady’s dress, smearing blood from the cut on her hand onto the fine white fabric.
“Oh, my dear!” cried the lady again. “Walter, she’s hurt!” she called out behind her.
Coming to herself and seeing what she had done, Jamie at last found her tongue. “Oh, mem! I’m sorry! I didna mean t’—oh, yer fine dress—!”
She could say no more, finally breaking into uncontrolled weeping.
“Think nothing of the dress,” returned the lady, enclosing her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. “There, there . . . everything will be fine!”
“Oh, I made a mess o’ everythin’!” sobbed Jamie.
“No, no,” the woman comforted, still holding Jamie in her loving arms. Her voice was soft and soothing. “The dress is of no concern—but look at you! You’re hurt. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I had bocht sumdeal o’ herrin’ fer Sadie,” sobbed Jamie, “when twa cursed blaggards beat me an’ staelt my fish.”
“Come, my carriage is right here. You must sit down.”
“Oh, no, mem. I couldna put ye oot! I done enough hairm already.”
“You’ve been hurt, my dear. I won’t take no for an answer.”
She led Jamie firmly to her carriage, which was only a few feet away. The driver jumped down to help Jamie in.
“Walter,” the lady said, “bring me the flask of water you keep in the boot.”
The driver complied, and soon the lady was cleaning Jamie’s forehead with a soft cloth.
“We must get that hand of yours bandaged!” she said. “It’s really worse than I thought. Where do you live? We must get you home!”
“Oh, no, mem!” Jamie exclaimed. “I canna . . . my mistress’d be sore put oot wi’ me, comin’ home in a carriage an’ wi’oot her fish!”
“Surely she would understand!”
“I lost thirty pence o’ fish, mem!” Jamie said, wiping her tear-filled eyes and running nose with the back of her dirty hand.
“Walter,” the lady called up to the driver with resolution in her voice, “take us home, please.” Then to Jamie, “No need to cry. We’ll get you cleaned up and work something out with your mistress. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
The carriage jerked into movement, and suddenly Jamie found herself being carried away—whence, she had no idea. But she was too weary to argue. It could be no worse than the Doubloon.
Although much too exhausted both physically and emotionally to pay much attention to her surroundings, Jamie was able to tell that her genteel rescuer was a far different breed of lady than her employer. Her voice was soft and pleasing. Her flaxen hair, pulled up on her head with curls peeking out from under a lovely blue velvet hat, framed a round but sensitive face. There was a pink glow about her creamy skin, but Jamie could tell immediately that it did not come from a powder box as had Sadie’s. She was in her early thirties and very pretty, though perhaps not quite beautiful. Her long-lashed eyes were blue and warm, and in certain surroundings might have been just a bit shy. She was but a few inches taller than Jamie, yet maintained a daintily feminine aura about her. The dress, by now splotched with blood and dirt, was of soft blue and white cotton, trimmed with lace at the neck and cuffs and around the hem.
The lady, as Jamie would ultimately discover, was Emily Gilchrist, the wife of the vicar William Gilchrist. What such a woman in such a carriage was doing within a few blocks of the Aberdeen fish market, and on such a sleazy back street, is a question many might have asked. But none who knew Mrs. Gilchrist would have asked it. She was often to be found in
such places, for she had made the poor folk of Aberdeen her special province. She was to be found wherever a gentle hand or kind word was needed, often bringing baskets of food or medical supplies. Her husband had long since ceased taking her to task for her unseemly and unceremonious, if not outright dangerous, habit. In fact, as he had accustomed himself to her peculiar ways, he had grown to greatly admire and respect his wife, not merely for her ethics, but for her pluck. As vicar of a prosperous parish, he had been in danger of growing content with his lot in life. But now his heart often went with her, and even his person upon rare occasion, and he was growing once again—down toward the poor, and up toward the kingdom of heaven.
He was therefore not surprised in the least when Emily walked into their stately home in Cornhill with a young waif in tow.
He was at that moment entertaining Lord Farquhar, one of his most influential parishioners. Farquhar cocked an eyebrow at the appearance of the ragged girl, but Gilchrist smiled warmly, if not a bit awkwardly. Emily greeted her husband and his guest, then ushered her charge past the parlor and into the kitchen where she knew everyone, especially Jamie, would be most comfortable to have her carry out her ministrations.
Jamie remained speechless throughout the proceeding. She had never been inside such a house, had never even seen one, and felt as if she were an orphan walking inside a palace—as indeed she was. But then she would have expected such a lady to live in nothing less.
19
Lessons
Sadie was understandably aggrieved, if for all the wrong reasons, when she received word that Jamie would be taking up residence with the vicar William Gilchrist. Walter, the coachman, delivered the message along with a five-pound note to compensate for any losses incurred. He then gathered up Jamie’s things and drove away.
Jamie MacLeod Page 14
