Kings Pinnacle (7 page)

All the sailors came
streaming up from below and took their assigned positions on the
deck and in the rigging. The captain yelled, “Shorten sail!” and
the first mate yelled, “Man the pumps!” as the ship began taking on
more water. The seaman scurried to carry out the orders. One young
tar ran to the bilge pump and motioned for Alex to join him at the
pump handle. They began pumping out the sea water as fast as they
could pump the handle. Some of the rigging fowled in the wind and
broke loose. The bosun sent the seaman who had been working the
pump with Alex aloft to help mend the broken sheets and hawsers. He
sent one of the cabin boys below to commandeer one of the other
passengers to help Alex, who was now pumping out the bilge water
alone at the bilge pump handle.

Alex glanced up from his
task and saw the cabin boy leading Samuel Ruskin to the pumping
position beside him. As the big man grasped the moving pump handle,
he turned to Alex and said, “Let me show you how a man works a
pump, laddie.”

Alex smiled at him and just
kept working the pump. Samuel started pumping furiously and Alex
was pressed to keep up with the pace that Samuel had set. But
Samuel soon began to tire and then fell back into a more reasonable
pumping rhythm. Alex was having no trouble keeping the pace now and
holding up his end of the task. As the day wore on, the pumping
became all-consuming for Alex and Samuel, and the rain and rough
seas did not let up. Samuel’s hands soon began to blister, and the
blisters broke open and bled. He was definitely not used to this
type of work, so his hands were soft. Alex had been pumping from
time to time throughout the entire voyage, so his hands were as
tough as leather.

“You had better go below and
have those hands looked at,” Alex yelled at Samuel through the rain
and howling wind.

“Mind your own business,
Scot.”

“Suit yourself,” said Alex
as he glanced at Samuel’s bleeding hands.

It wasn’t long before Samuel
couldn’t bear the pain anymore, so he let go of the pump handle and
glowered at Alex. Alex ignored him and kept on pumping. Samuel
sulked away to the deck ladder to go below, not looking back at
Alex. Alex smiled to himself. He knew that he had won that round,
but the fight still wasn’t over by a long shot.

The worst of the storm was
soon past, and the rain began to let up. Alex was finally relieved
at the pump by one of the seamen and soon the rain stopped
altogether. Alex finally went below and dropped into a deep sleep
in his hammock.

* * * *

Hugh

“
Major Leyden Thomas, at
your service, Sir,” said the dandy British major in a much clipped
British accent as he strode into the Fort Craghead commandant’s
office.

He reported to the
commandant with a smart salute, as required by military protocol.
The major’s uniform was very crisp and clean. It was cut into the
latest style, with a high collar, and tapered to fit his trim
physique. His knee high boots were polished to a high gloss. His
mustache was waxed, with the ends twirled into military points. He
sported a monocle that was tied to a black leather band around his
neck, and it was resting on his chest. He was the very epitome of a
British upper-class army officer.

The major had ridden into
Fort Craghead with two mounted troops, who wore the insignia of his
aides, and up to the commandant’s office, where they dismounted.
The major had handed his reins to one of his aides and given him
instructions to wait for him to return.

“
Welcome to Fort Craghead,
Major; I’m Colonel Barkley” replied the commandant.

“
How may I assist you?”
continued the commandant.

“
I have orders to collect
one of your prisoners, if you would be so kind,” replied the
major.

“
May I see your orders?”
asked the colonel.

The major unbuttoned his military
jacket and reached into an inside pocket to draw out a folded
document, tied with a ribbon and sealed with a wax seal, which he
handed to the commandant.

“
This may take a moment;
if you wouldn’t mind waiting, I would appreciate it,” said the
commandant, gesturing toward an empty chair on the other side of
his desk as he broke open the sealed orders.

“
It’s no difficulty,”
replied the major, as he took the offered seat, crossed his legs,
yawned, and patted his mouth with a very bored
expression.

The major then raised his
monocle to his eye and surveyed the commandant’s office with a look
of distaste, as if evaluating outdated decor. The prisoner that he
had come to take custody of was Hugh Mackenzie. Hugh had been
brought into the camp a few days earlier and was being interrogated
daily for intelligence about an outlaw band that had been raiding
English estates along the border with Scotland.

They had begun each
interrogation by beating Hugh with rifle butts and clubs and
kicking him in the ribs after he fell down to the ground. But the
stubborn Hugh wouldn’t open his mouth and talk. Just the day
before, they had been holding his head under water repeatedly in a
horse trough until he started to drown. As he began to
involuntarily suck water into his lungs, they would pull his head
out of the water. After reviving him, they asked him questions as
soon as he regained enough breath to talk. At one point, when they
pulled him out of the trough, he failed to revive. Only after
repeatedly pounding him on the back and chest did he begin to
breathe again.

“Don’t kill him lads,” the
officer supervising the questioning had said. “He’s no good to us
dead.”

Hugh looked like death
itself. His eyes were almost swollen shut from the beatings. He had
deep blue and purple bruises on his face and chest, back and sides.
He also had two broken ribs, as well as the broken collar bone that
his questioners repeatedly hammered during each torture session.
This had set back the healing process and caused Hugh great pain.
Hugh had already given himself up as a dead man. He knew he
wouldn’t survive his captivity, so he had decided that he wouldn’t
say anything to anyone during his short stay at the fort. And he
hadn’t said anything so far except for the occasional involuntary
groan when the pain became too intense.

Across the fort from Colonel Barkley’s
office, the interrogating officer was once again confronting
Hugh.

“You’re a stubborn one,
Mackenzie,” said officer. “But you are eventually going to tell me
what I want to know. Of that ye can be sure.”

Hugh managed a slight grin
as he looked at the man and said nothing. It was going to be
another long day. Hugh wasn’t certain how long he could hold out,
but he was going to do his best, as he had done each day of the
interrogation. He had not yet lost count of how many days he had
been a captive. He still remembered Robert’s last words to him as
he lay on the ground near the farmhouse, “Don’t give up hope,
Hugh.” But he knew that he was slipping fast.

Back in his office, the
commandant finished reading the orders handed to him by the major.
“I’m sorry, Major, but I cannot fulfill your orders at this time,”
said the commandant to the very bored Major Leyden Thomas, who sat
across the desk from him.

“May I ask why not? Is there
something wrong with the orders?” asked the major.

“No Major, the orders are
valid and correct. It’s just that the prisoner you seek is still
under interrogation and may be so for many more days.”

“Ah, well, General Howe will
be sorely disappointed,” replied the major, standing and
straightening his uniform while preparing to walk out of the
commandant’s office. “I will be on my way to report back to the
general the results of my fruitless mission for him.”

At the mention of General
Howe’s name, the commandant immediately stood up and said, “Ah,
let’s not be too hasty, Major. If you will follow me, we can double
check to see if the questioning has concluded or progressed far
enough for me to release the prisoner to you and the
general.”

“
As you wish,” replied the
major with an exasperated expression.

He followed the commandant
across the fort to a one-room outbuilding behind the stables that
was normally used for tack storage and saddle and harness repair.
They walked into the outbuilding to find the interrogation getting
underway. As the pair walked in, the officer conducting the
interrogation stood and walked up the commandant and the
major.

“
May I help you, Colonel
Barkley?” asked the officer, saluting his superior
officer.

“No, not necessary,” replied
the commandant returning the salute. “The major here with me has
orders to take custody of the prisoner, but I told him that I could
not release the prisoner until the questioning was completed. I see
that it is still in progress, so I will have to send the major away
empty-handed.”

“
Pity,” was the only thing
the major said while maintaining his bored expression.

“
Who wants my
prisoner?”

“
General Howe,” relied the
commandant.

“
Why does General Howe
want my prisoner?” the officer asked, turning toward the
major.

“
The general does not
explain his reasoning to me,” replied the major
haughtily.

The officer and the
commandant knew that General Howe was a rising star in the British
Army, and both desperately wanted to advance in the British Army.
The gears in their minds began to turn as they weighed the cost of
holding onto Hugh and continuing the questioning versus the benefit
of giving Hugh to the major and thus pleasing General Howe. After
several days of fruitless questioning, everyone was becoming bored
with the interrogation anyway, and it looked as if Hugh would die
before he talked. So the officer and the commandant reached the
same conclusion--they might as well cut their losses and try to
make something of benefit out of the situation.

“This interrogation is in
fact at an end. I have no objections to releasing my prisoner to
this major,” said the officer, who received a nod of assent from
the commandant.

The officer then turned to the major
and said, “Major, mention my name and generosity to General Howe,
if you please.”

“
You can rest assured that
I will,” replied the major.

“
Can you clean him up a
bit and tie him onto a horse for me?” asked the major, with a
disgusted look on his face, as he held his monocle up to his eye to
look at Hugh.

Hugh stared back at the major with a
blank expression.

“He’s so dirty and smells
terrible. I don’t want my aides to have to touch him. I doubt he
will be able to ride without being tied into the saddle,” said the
major, pulling out a scented handkerchief from the sleeve of his
jacket and holding it to his nose.

“
Of course we can, sir,”
replied the sergeant, who was in charge of the detail and had been
Hugh’s chief tormentor and questioner.

The commandant and the major strolled
back to the commandant’s office to wait for the soldiers to deliver
Hugh.

“
May I offer you a glass
of sherry while we wait?” asked the commandant.

“I’d be most pleased. It
would help settle the trail dust and wash away that disgusting
smell,” replied the major.

A short time later, the sergeant
entered the commandant’s office, saluted and said, “The prisoner is
outside and waiting, sirs.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. You
are dismissed,” replied the commandant as the sergeant executed an
about face and walked out of the commandant’s office.

“Major, it has been a
pleasure meeting you. Here are your countersigned orders,” said the
commandant, as he handed the orders back to the major.

“
I will mention your
cooperation, efforts and willingness to fulfill his orders to
General Howe,” said the major, standing and saluting the
commandant.

“
Thank you very much and
good luck,” replied the commandant.

The major turned and walked
out of the commandant’s office. He gave his aides some brief
instructions for escorting the prisoner and then mounted up to lead
his party, now with the prisoner in tow, out past the gate of Fort
Craghead.

As soon as they were a few
miles out of sight of the fort, the major turned off the main road
and onto a side trail that led into the marshes. He followed the
side trail a short distance until he came to a small pond, where he
led his party into a grove that was shielded from sight of the
trail and gave orders to dismount.

“
Untie the prisoner and
pull him off his horse gently, lads,” said the major in his normal
Scottish accent.

“
Your face looks pretty
bad, Hugh,” said Robert, as he pulled off the major’s uniform and
looked at it with disgust.

“
Weel, ye should see the
other lad,” said Hugh with a grin.

“I did,” replied Robert.
“That lad’s knuckles did look badly bruised.”

At which Hugh started to laugh, but he
stopped short and grabbed his broken ribs.

“Robber, don’t make me
laugh. It hurts too much. By the way, where did you get that
mustache?” asked Hugh.