God's Highlander (44 page)

T
HE EMIGRANT-SHIP
Maid of Gloucester
sailed along Loch Linnhe to Fort William three days later. She was a much larger craft than the previous emigrant-ship and altogether newer. She would not be remaining at Fort William for long, because it was not believed there were many emigrants to be embarked here. The majority would be taken on board at Oban, just outside the loch.

During the three days the Ross family remained at the manse, Wyatt tried his utmost to persuade Mairi to change her mind and stay with him – but to no avail. She admitted she did not
want
to go. That she wanted nothing more from life than to marry Wyatt and be with him wherever he went. Nevertheless, she felt it her duty to go to Canada and help her parents recover from the tragedy that had overtaken them.

On the last evening, as the sun sank beneath the lofty bulk of Ben Nevis, Wyatt and Mairi stood together on the bank of the loch, gazing out across water that mirrored the sunset colours of the sky.

‘It's not too late to change your mind.' The words were spoken more in desperation than in any hope that Mairi might act upon them.

‘Don't, Wyatt.' Mairi touched his arm and kept her hand there. ‘Don't ask me any more.'

‘There's an awful lot of water between here and Canada for our love to bridge….'

Mairi put a finger to his lips. ‘Hush now! Perhaps one day you'll come to Canada.'

The suggestion was not entirely new, but it took Wyatt by surprise. There had been talk when he was last in Edinburgh of the Free Church financing overseas missions. Canada had not been mentioned, and it would be some time before any plan came to fruition, but…. Then he
thought of Eskaig. There was so much work to be done to build new lives for the many victims of the clearances.

‘Well?'

‘I can't, Mairi.'

‘Why not?'

‘I've a duty to perform here, in Eskaig. A duty to my church and to people like these….' He pointed to the homeless cottars still living in the churchyard. ‘People like your ma and pa.'

‘I have a duty towards them, too, Wyatt. Would you respect me if
I
did what you've said you can't do?'

Wyatt shook his head miserably. ‘No.'

‘Then, let's look out at the loch and the mountains and try to pretend it isn't the last time I'll ever see them.'

There was a break in her voice, and Wyatt put his arms about her and held her to him.

From the garden of the manse, Magdalene Ross looked down at the embracing couple standing at the loch-edge. She watched them until the shadows of the night hid them from view, then she went slowly inside.

Later that same evening Ewan Munro came to see Wyatt. In a fair imitation of a man, he told Wyatt that after discussing the future with his mother he, too, had decided to take the family to Canada. There were, he said seriously, ‘better prospects for the girls to make good marriages in the New World'.

Resisting an impulse to ruffle the boy's hair in a gesture of affection, Wyatt replied in the same serious vein, weighing the pitfalls and the advantages of such a move. He ended by agreeing that Ewan had reached a sound conclusion.

‘You're a sensible lad, Ewan. When you reach Canada discuss things with your ma before making a move and you'll do well there, I'm sure.'

‘Thank you. It's been rumoured that the new landowner's giving twenty-five pounds to every man who emigrates with his family. Will I get that, too?'

‘You will. And, what's more, I'll be doing the same as I did for the emigrants who left in the last ship. There will be ten sovereigns for every member of an Eskaig family who takes passage to Canada. That will be seventy sovereigns for your family. I'll give it to you tonight. Your ma can stitch it away safely in your clothing before you go on
board – and, remember, don't tell a soul about it. Not everyone on board is as honest as those you've known here.'

‘I'll remember.' Ewan Munro's excitement, at least, was that of a young boy. ‘It's a
fortune
. I only wish Pa was here to see how much money we'll all have….'

 

Wyatt had to pay out rather more than he had anticipated. Fifty-three victims of the clearances, including the Rosses, followed Ewan Munro's example and decided their futures lay in Canada and not in Scotland. The whole village turned out to wish them well, and Wyatt accompanied them to Fort William. Eneas Ross in particular had been a man of some stature in the mountain community.

On board
Maid of Gloucester
, Wyatt received a surprise; it was one that did not delight Eneas Ross. Among the emigrants were Seonaid Ross and her blind father!

While the members of the Ross family were stowing their few possessions below decks, Wyatt found himself alone with Seonaid.

‘You're the last person I expected to find on board an emigrant-ship – and with your father, too. I trust he won't be a liability to you there.'

‘He's my
father
,' said Seonaid in a tone of voice that reminded him of Mairi. ‘Anyway, I'll be able to take care of him. He'll not want for anything – in the ship
or
when we get there.'

‘Oh!' Wyatt raised an eyebrow. ‘I've been hearing rumours about you, Seonaid, but none of them mentioned you were rich now.'

‘It never pays to listen to rumours.' Seonaid spoke stiffly. ‘Were any of them about Garrett and me?'

Wyatt nodded.

‘Then, they weren't rumours; they were true.' Seonaid looked for censure from Wyatt, but his expression told her nothing. ‘It doesn't matter
what
they say now. I've got the last laugh on them – and on Garrett.'

‘What do you mean, Seonaid? What have you done?'

‘I've
done
nothing – certainly not what John Garrett's expecting me to do. He'll be waiting in Glasgow. Expecting me to come and live with him there. He's in for a big disappointment, I can tell you.'

There was something more than triumph in her voice.

‘Seonaid, did John Garrett give you money to make your way to Glasgow to be with him?'

‘He did more than that. He gave me money
to look after
for him, in case he was stopped before he left Fort William.'

‘That's stealing, Seonaid.'

‘Is it? I'd call it payment for what Garrett has done to me and too many others. Are
you
going to tell him?'

Wyatt changed his reply twice without speaking. Then he shrugged in resignation. ‘You're beyond my redemption, Seonaid….' He could see Mairi coming towards them. ‘Take care of yourself in Canada and try not to forget the girl you once were.'

‘Thank you, Minister. I wish you were coming, too.' Before Wyatt could guess her intention she kissed him, then ran off, almost knocking Mairi over along the way.

‘What was that about?' Mairi asked Wyatt.

‘Nothing. I merely wished her well in Canada.'

‘Seonaid will survive, wherever she is,' said Mairi. ‘But she's not a bad girl, for all the rumours about her.'

‘I haven't come on board to talk of Seonaid.' Wyatt took Mairi's arm and led her to the rail. Here they engaged in a disjointed and meaningless conversation until one of the ship's crew began walking about the deck, blowing a whistle and calling for non-emigrants to leave the ship. It was the moment Wyatt had been dreading. He and Mairi looked at one another, each frightened to say what needed to be said.

Suddenly, abruptly, Wyatt pulled her to him. ‘Goodbye, Mairi.'

‘Goodbye….' It was so final. ‘I love you, Wyatt.'

‘I love you, too.' He pushed her away and left the ship, not saying goodbye to anyone along the way and hardly seeing where he was going.

As he walked down the sloping gangway, a lone piper began playing a Gaelic tune, its translated title being ‘We Shall Return No More'. Wyatt kept on walking, not daring to stop or look around.

Behind him on the deck of the ship, Mairi watched the dark-clad dejected man going away from her.

‘If I had a man like Minister Wyatt, I wouldn't let him walk away from me.' Mairi had not been aware that Seonaid was standing beside her. ‘I wish he was
my
man….'

 

For four days after
Maid of Gloucester
sailed from Fort William, Wyatt threw himself into his work with a zeal that the villagers swore
would burn him out in a week. He tramped the mountains with cottars and crofters evicted by John Garrett, helping them choose new sites for their holdings. He obtained materials to raise roofs and he worked to clear ground. His day began at dawn and ended when the sun went down. Then he went to work and pray in the church, the candles burning until long after the villagers had gone to their beds.

Evangeline had a long talk to him when he returned one evening, hardly able to stand because he was so weary after a long day in the mountains. She understood
why
he was working himself so hard, as did the villagers. She told him they would all rather he left them and went to Canada. It would be better than watching him kill himself on their behalf here in Eskaig.

Weary and irritable though he was, Wyatt knew she was right. His self-pity was selfish. He had told Mairi he could not go to Canada because he had a duty to the people of his Highland parish. He had to face that duty and perform it to their best advantage, as his father had once done.

His thoughts reminded him that he had not visited his father's grave for far too long. Thanking Evangeline for her concern, he went to the churchyard. There were still a few families living here, but they would not disturb him.

He spent a while weeding the grave before dropping to his knees to pray. His prayers took the form of a talk he might have had with his father had he still lived.

As he prayed, Wyatt was aware of the children of the evicted cottars playing in the churchyard. It was a pleasant sound, a reminder that happiness did not end with loss of possessions.

Some of the children came close, out of curiosity, but he did not look up. Then footsteps came closer, and he sensed that someone was standing near. Still he continued his prayers – until something landed on the ground beside him. Something that jingled with the dull sound of gold coins in a small bag.

He opened his eyes and saw a small linen drawstring bag from which a number of sovereigns had spilled. Startled, he looked up – and saw Mairi. Barefoot and travel-weary, she could still smile.

Wyatt scrambled to his feet, too astonished to speak.

‘I've brought your ten sovereigns back. I didn't feel I should keep them as I'm not emigrating.'

He held out his arms, and they clung to each other, both laughing, yet close to tears.

‘How…? Why…?'

‘I left the ship at Oban early this morning.'

‘That's fifty miles away! You've walked all that distance?'

‘Ma walked much farther for Pa, as she told me soon after we left Fort William.'

‘She and your father…. What will they do without you?'

‘Ma said she'd be more content knowing I was with you than having to spend every day seeing the unhappiness in me – and Tibbie's promised to take care of her. She will, too. She's always been like a true daughter to Ma.'

‘What of your father?'

‘There were a lot of families came on board at Oban. Among them were two old soldiers who'd been with Pa in Spain. With a crowd of old friends and three sons … he's going to be all right.'

Wyatt hugged her again. ‘You'd better come inside the manse….'

‘Don't forget your money.'

Wyatt stooped to pick up the coins, and stood weighing them in his hand. ‘I'll accept this as a dowry. You can have it back when our first child is born. What's more, I'll
double
it for every child that comes after!'

‘Steady now, Minister Jamieson. Shouldn't you make an honest woman of me before your thoughts turn to making me a rich one?'