“As I said,” Asa interrupted his thoughts, “it is best to steer clear.”
“I will bear that in mind. I thank ye for tellin’ me.”
Asa grinned and bobbed his head. “Follow me, and I will show you where you will sleep. The hammock next to mine is empty as the man who slept there before up and died of a sudden. No one knows why.” He shrugged his shoulders again as if this too was fairly normal. Robbie raised a brow in question but remained silent. He followed Asa below decks to the far end of the sleeping quarters. “This is it,” Asa beamed, pointing to the canvas hammock which appeared to have been made from an old sail. “You can store your belongings in my sea chest if you wish, since you do not have your own.” He gestured to a battered wooden box sitting on the floor against the ship’s hull.
“I thank ye, Asa. That is most kind o’ ye.”
“Not at all. I have a feeling that we will be fast friends.” The boy smiled and gestured for Robbie to follow him again. “Come and I will show you the rest of the ship.”
Robbie did as bidden and followed Asa throughout the ship, above and below decks. He met many of the men along the way. Some greeted him friendly enough, while others viewed him with open hostility and suspicion. When they reached the ship’s galley, Robbie was not surprised to find that the rude peg-legged man was the cook. “Mr. Withers, may I introduce the latest addition to our crew, Mr. Robbie MacDonald from the Isle of Skye. Mr. MacDonald, this is Mr. Archibald Withers, the ship’s cook.”
“Mr. Withers,” Robbie nodded in greeting, attempting not to laugh as the man gave him the sternest once over that he had ever endured. At the end of his appraisal, the cook snorted in response and returned to his work. It should have been insulting, but oddly enough, Robbie only found it to be amusing. It was clear that the little Englishman was not fond of Scotsmen, or anyone else for that matter as he had not bothered to properly greet Asa either. It was also clear that he was not prone to an overabundance of speech.
“He is a gruff sort, our Mr. Withers, but there is not a more loyal soul aboard this ship once he decides that you are worth knowing.”
Robbie smiled. He had known plenty of the type growing up in the highlands and islands of Scotland, old warriors mostly who used their gruff manner as a shield against the rest of the world. It was an honesty that he could live with and in many ways respected. “A goal tae live up tae then,” Robbie answered good-naturedly, evoking another snort from the taciturn cook. This earned another smile from Robbie, then Asa led him out to show him more of the ship.
By midday the ship was ready to make way having accrued everything needed for the journey. At the captain’s command the anchor was raised, and the men sprang into the rigging, Robbie among them, scrambling to release the sails. Dangling from the rope ladder flapping in the wind, Robbie bid farewell to the last sight of land as they eased out into the ocean and immediately picked up speed.
There is nae turnin’ back now.
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About the Author
Shona Thompson is an American based author of Historical Scottish Romance. She spent her student years in the majestic city of Edinburgh, where she fell in love with the history, the legends and the people of Scotland.
Her own Highlander husband was the one who inspired her and awoke her passion of writing. He became her muse, and all her love stories are dedicated to him.
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Highlander’s Buried Identity (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 16
