“Come on, Kenneth. Come and greet Grandma. She won’t bite you.”
He smiled awkwardly, “How are you keeping, Mistress MacKenzie?”
“I suppose you’ve come to claim your money,” she replied in a gruff voice, but there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes.
“I truly regret opening that drawer in the press, especially since Jeannie told me about the shoe. I …” His voice guttered as Janet stared at him. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It was a silly thing to do but not a hanging matter, I think,” Janet replied after a pause.
Kenneth attempted a smile. Jeannie dug him in the ribs. “What else have you to say?”
His smile blossomed into a grin, “Jeannie has said that she’ll marry me. She took her time though. Led me a merry dance first.”
“That’s as it should be,” said Janet, laughing, “You had to prove yourself worthy. So you do need your money now.”
“We’ve the promise of a croft near Mama and Papa.” Jeannie squeezed her hand into Kenneth’s. “We’ll get married in the summer. You will come, Grandma, won’t you?”
“Of course, I will. Someone has to keep an eye on this fellow from Kintail with his nosey ways.” A gust of happiness set her heart fluttering free after being tightly furled for so long.
Chapter 10
Island of Rona, Spring 1858
Soon afterward, a much larger vessel appeared on the horizon, steam powered with two funnels and two masts. It waited in the outer harbor and dropped a smaller boat from its side to come ashore. The two figures in naval blue saw Janet waiting outside her door for them. Tom Masters slowed his stride to match Captain Otter’s measured pace.
“Mistress MacKenzie, I trust you’re in good health. We’re not intruding on you, I hope?” The captain’s voice boomed but his deep-set eyes darted anxiously.
“Not at all, you’re most welcome, Captain Otter.”
“You remember Lieutenant Masters?”
“Indeed I do. He came with you the first time and then on his own with the new lamp from the Commissioner gentlemen. I’m afraid to say that it’s back in its box. I had become so used to my old one. But I make good use of this fine gift you sent me.” She brandished the spyglass. “Will you come inside for some refreshment?”
“Of course, the new lamp isn’t needed now,” she continued when they were seated. “Should it be returned to the Commissioners?”
“Better not. I had to battle with them before they agreed to give it to you in the first place. They’re renowned for being parsimonious, every penny kept a prisoner.”
Tom noticed that the captain seemed much more at his ease compared to the first time they had visited. The widow too was different, less stiff in her manner.
“Have you visited the new lighthouse?” the captain asked.
“No, but I did go while it was being built. It was then that I met Mr. Thomas Stevenson and his wee boy, Louis, who stayed here for a time.” Her breath came out in a sigh before she rushed on. “He never stopped talking about your ship and how he wanted to grow up to be strong and brave like the fine lieutenant. I don’t know though that he’ll be hardy enough for a sailor’s life.”
Tom smiled. “His mind was so lively but maybe his body couldn’t keep pace with it.”
Tom thought about the boy. He had been drawn to him as a fellow spirit. He too longed to tear up the map his father had drawn for his future. He wished the lad well. He doubted if Louis would ever be suited to an active life. But there was a will there that wouldn’t be easily quenched. Tom pulled his thoughts back to the present and looked across at the widow. Mrs. MacKenzie was smiling as if laughter was bubbling up in her throat.
She caught his eye and seemed to come to a decision. “Do excuse me gentlemen. I was only thinking how my speech is much more sprightly than when you came before. When I was a lass, my father insisted I learn English. He said it was the language of the future while our native tongue belonged to the past. I did as he bade me, but living here I had no need to speak anything but Gaelic. When you came before, my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth when I tried to talk. Then when Louis came, he was such a fanciful wee lad, always wanting to hear stories. So I had to buff up my English words again.”
“Ah, but I arrived without warning and startled you,” the captain replied. After that, the conversation flowed easily enough as he spoke about his voyages to survey the Outer Isles. The new ship, HMS Porcupine, had nearly sunk during the terrible winter storms off St. Kilda.
“She lay helpless on her beam ends, but two local men saved her by cutting away the boats on the lee side. They got her upright again. I thank the Lord for Highland sailors, the best in the world.” After an hour they rose to leave and Janet walked down the beach with them. The captain turned back before climbing into the waiting boat. “Our charts and the new lighthouses are making the sea less dangerous. But I shall never forget that before any of us arrived your lamp was saving lives.”
The widow nodded, her eyes moist.
After they had gone, she stood at the window for a long time. The captain had understood. Thanks was all the reward she wanted. It was also his way of bidding her farewell. Now she must say farewell herself to the Janet who had kept the light. But what was left of her without the lamp?
She marched into the kitchen, surprising Effie who was sweeping the floor. Opening a press she rummaged inside and pulled out old cloths, a lump of soap and a jar of vinegar. Her first task was to clean the brass parts of the lamp and polish them until they glowed. Lifting the fragile glass chimney she dabbed it with a vinegar-soaked rag before swaddling it in a soft cloth to dry. When it was all back together again she stood back to survey her handiwork. Still she felt vexed.
Kenneth had brought the lamp back from one of his trips. He enjoyed displaying his wealth but to her it was bragging. The bulky thing was never suited to their house. It was a foreigner. Like the big sheep that the landlords brought in when they drove the people out.
She paced up and down in front of the window before heading to her bedroom. There she bent down to pry open the lid of an old sea chest. Groping inside it, she pulled out a length of black fabric. It released a musty scent as she shook out the folds. It was the shawl she had worn after Kenneth’s death. Once the period of mourning was over, it had languished in the trunk. Now it would be draped over the lamp, the lamp that had shone out over the water for so long, but now was no longer needed.
Chapter 11
Island of Rona, Spring 1858
A week later the next visitor came, this time in a small sailing boat. She recognized the sailor at once. The sea frothed against Murdo’s boots as he jumped ashore.
“I’m relieved to see you again, Mama, after that terrible winter.”
“Well, I lived through it. You’re the third boat to arrive. Jeannie came first with young Kenneth. Then Captain Otter with his fair young lieutenant and …” She paused, hands on hips and frowned at him, “Don’t look at me like that. I know what you’re thinking, but my mind’s not failing. Of course, the captain came that first time two years ago, but he was back again this spring.”
“I can see your mind is as sharp as ever,” Murdo said smiling.
“And so is my tongue when needs be.”
Later as they sat down he looked toward the covered lamp brooding on the window sill.
“It’s strange to think I won’t be bringing oil for your lamp anymore.”
“Nearly twenty years I tended that light. I was still quite a young woman when I started.”
They sat silent, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Then Murdo cleared his throat, “I’ve something to show you.” He rummaged in his jacket pocket. She was alerted by the urgency in his voice, an urgency he was trying to muffle. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her, but she barely glanced at it before giving it back.
“Don’t you want to look at it properly?”
“I don’t need to. The drawing of
the ship tells the story. You’re going to emigrate, aren’t you?”
“Aye, Caristiona and I have spent days and nights talking about it. We’re both weary of the struggle to keep the family fed. Our neighbor has relatives out in Canada and their letters are full of how good it is out there. It was the building of the lighthouse that finally made us decide and …” he stumbled to a halt.
“The lighthouse beam shows the way to a new start. Did you think I would be upset by your news?” He nodded. “It’s never too late for a fresh start. Even for a cailleach like me.” He frowned in puzzlement. “I think I might come with you. You’re looking pale, son, and your mouth’s hanging open like a door that’s lost its hinges. I’ll fetch you a dram.” She almost skipped to the press to get the bottle. “My task here is finished. There’s no reason for me to stay.”
She handed him the glass and he tilted it in his hand, swirling the amber fluid into a storm, “I always thought that you would never leave here. Never leave them.”
She looked over his shoulder, out of the window. “I couldn’t bear it that the sea held on to their bodies. How could they have peace when they had no resting place? I knew I would never see them again in this life. The light could never guide them home, but it could warm their poor wandering souls. Then after Louis left, my heart ripped open again. It was like losing your brother a second time,” she gulped.
“Hamish, Mama, say his name.”
“Losing … Hamish again. When I first saw Louis, I thought for an instant he was Hamish come back to life. The same age, frail, a mind darting like a wagtail. I thought if only Louis stayed with me until his eighth birthday, the one Hamish never reached, he would live to become a man. Somehow would live for Hamish too.” She covered her face with her hands. “I know this was a madness in me and the fever has burnt itself out now.”
He reached over and took one of her hands, smoothing the gnarled joints with his own roughened fingers, “Come with us to Canada. It’s time to lay Hamish and Papa to rest. But …” he hesitated. “But before we go I want you to break your silence and tell me all that happened that day. When you sent Catherine and me away the night before. Did you have a vision?”
She gazed at his long face with its high cheekbones, so like his father’s, but the cool gray eyes were her own.
“No, I had no warning. Your father only decided to sail that morning.”
“He had been talking about it before though, hadn’t he? We were running low on water and there was no sign of any rain coming to fill our barrels. He promised me I could sail with him to Portree. I was so jealous when he took Hamish instead. I was the one who worked hard. Jarring my arms every time the foot plough hit a rock. But no one noticed me. Hamish the favoured one could do no wrong.” He dropped his gaze and flexed his fingers. “Afterward I was tormented by fears. Could my anger and envy have brought the storm?”
She remembered Murdo as he was then, a boy on the cusp of manhood. Scowling face and furtive eyes devouring the new, flighty maid as she went about her tasks. “I can see now I was too tender with your wee brother. But he was delicate. I didn’t want him to go on the boat that day. He was meant to go away with you two.”
“But the rascal said you told him to stay at home while we went. If you had no suspicion about what was going to happen, why did you send Catherine and me away to the Nicolsons at Dry Harbour?”
She took a long time to reply. “Your father and I fell out and there was no way we could put it right.” She struggled to pull out the words. They had rooted, unspoken for so long.
“Was it about Anna?”
Janet nodded, “But even after all these years, it wouldn’t be right to speak about it.”
Murdo waited while she stayed silent. She was reliving that day in her mind. Hamish had begged her to go out with him for a walk. It was a jewel of a winter’s day, dry and sparkling. He was on good form, no cough at all. They followed the track inland up to the pasture. Hamish skipped ahead, humming to himself. Then he stopped dead and waited for her to catch him up. “What’s that, Mama?” He pointed to where the ground dipped ahead of them.
She looked too but couldn’t make any sense of what she was seeing. A blur of movement, strewn clothes. A jacket and shirt. A patch of blue like scabious flowers. No, not in the winter.
“What are they doing?” Hamish asked.
The whirling fragments stopped spinning. She was looking at two figures, one lying down, limbs sprawled. The other sitting astride him, head flung back.
“Is it a game? Look, it’s Anna. And there’s Papa underneath. Can I go and see them?”
She couldn’t speak but she clutched at his sleeve and pulled him away, back the way they had come.
“Mama, let me go, you’re hurting me.”
She had halted, turned him toward her and loosened her grip. “Listen to me. Go find your brother and sister. Tell them that all three of you are to go to the Nicolsons in Dry Harbour. You can say your Mama’s not well.”
She could see he was shaken. His mother saying he must tell a lie. He turned back but kept looking over his shoulder. She remained, rigid as a standing stone. She had always suspected that Kenneth wasn’t a faithful husband. Doubts were only ghosts that shriveled in daylight but now she knew. Flaunting his sin on their doorstep. Soiling their home. How could he mock their loving acts? Once she had yearned for his touch. Her longing like the foam of the incoming waves licking her toes. The longing urged her to wade ever deeper among the frothing waves. Was this what it was like to be pulled under by a water horse? Not knowing who was the horse and who the rider? The swell rearing up, over, through her until she no longer knew if she was swimming or drowning. Then at the end flung back to shore, feeling the shingle slide away under her.
Now Kenneth climbed up the slope toward her, his mouth opening in a greeting, hoping she had seen nothing. But the lies died in his throat at the sight of her wild face. They howled and roared at each other like wild beasts. She couldn’t remember the words except for one jagged stone that left a bloody scar. “Every time I returned home to cold embers. A man needs a warm hearth. I had to go and find one elsewhere.”
Murdo’s voice jolted her back to the present, “I know you won’t speak ill of Papa. You said God had called him to a better place.”
“Aye, we must all answer to God when our time comes.”
“I’m asking too much of you. Don’t say any more.” He patted her hand.
She shook her head, “But I must. He’s your father and it’s wrong to keep the truth from you. After the fight we went home. Hamish was there. I was cross with him for disobeying me. He started to wheeze as he did whenever he was upset. So what could I do? I let him stay. It was such a lovely day, but its beauty mocked me. I paraded up and down the shore and the house, not knowing what to do with myself. In the end I lay down and I must have fallen asleep in spite of everything. I was shaken awake early by your father.”
“I’m sailing over to Portree to get water. Angus MacLeod’s coming with me.”
“You can take Anna with you back to her mother’s house.”
“Aye. And Hamish is coming, too.”
“I started to scream but it was no good. He carried him out to the boat and I couldn’t stop him. The wee lad was white faced and I didn’t want to distress him anymore. So I pretended a smile and waved them off. You asked me if I had a warning. I didn’t until that moment when your father turned the prow the wrong way.”
“You mean he didn’t set off sun-wise?” Murdo gasped, horror-struck. “How could he risk bringing bad fortune on them all?”
“I don’t know. Was he unheeding because he was angry or was he taunting fate? I was left trembling like a beast before the knife. I couldn’t move away from the window. After a while Margaret MacLeod came in. She’s a cousin of your father’s, of course, but a rough sort.”
“Why did you let him go out today with my man?” she shouted at me. As if I could stop him. “You know what day it is?” I looked
blankly at her. “You know about Kenneth’s two brothers?”
“They were lost at sea years ago, weren’t they?” I stammered. She was scaring me.
“Aye, both in the month of February.” She came so close that flecks of spittle sprayed my face. “And both on a Tuesday. And what day of the week is it today? If anything happens to that boat, I shall curse you forever through all your generations.” Janet’s voice faltered.
“I hope you told the old witch to shut her mouth.”
“I did. But she left me even more uneasy. All morning I kept going out to look at the sky. There was a breeze from the southwest when they left. As the morning dragged itself along, the wind quickened. I told myself your father would stay in Portree if the weather turned. At midday I sat down but my belly closed itself against any food. Surely they would sail back soon? It was a short winter’s day. Two hours later there was still no sign of them. The wind was brisker now. Starting to whip up the waves, but he had found his way back through far worse. They could run ahead of the wind if they trimmed the sail.
“At last! About a mile out I saw a speck on the sea. I rubbed my eyes. I had been straining them so hard that I doubted them. But I could pick out a boat, bucking through the waves. I closed my eyes and prayed in thanks for their deliverance. When I opened them again, I saw Norman and Alistair were there standing beside me.”
“I thought I saw a boat coming,” Norman said, screwing up his eyes.
“Maybe your eyesight’s better than mine. Are they turning into the harbor, yet?”
No Safe Anchorage Page 6
