Oatcakes and Courage (5 page)

John MacKay made his thanks to the men standing about him. Then he solemnly walked to the rail where another group of settlers was boarding the
Hector
and he began to play.

The ship's deck was getting very crowded as more and more baggage and bodies came on board. Master James Orr, who had just arrived on the longboat, ordered the passengers to move below deck to stow their belongings.

Ian and Anne clutched their bags against their chests and joined the queue to the hatchway. As they waited, they surveyed the ship. They faced the stern and the captain's cabin, which was raised a few steps above the main deck. A pair of low doors was set below the captain's accommodations. Anne wondered what they were for until a young crewman popped out of one. She realized that the crew's quarters must be there. Above the captain's quarters was a transom deck. Anne noticed a pair of carvings at the head of the ladder leading to this deck – the busts of a man and a woman. These carvings looked down upon the settlers with calm detachment.

As the line of settlers moved forward, Anne felt a pang of uneasiness. In the longboat, waiting to come aboard, the
Hector
had seemed monstrous. Now it seemed far too small and crowded to hold all the settlers who were pouring onto her deck. A narrow ladder led to the dark hold below. Ian descended to the hold ahead of Anne, reached up for her bag, and she carefully followed him down.

A lantern hanging next to the ladder cast the hold in a dim, yellow light. Anne's breath caught in her throat. The ceiling was low, and the space was jammed with narrow bunk beds. Cargo that had been picked up in Greenock was stacked, fore and aft, floor to ceiling. Anne surveyed the passenger area with wide eyes. How would nearly two hundred of them ever fit in this cramped space? And the bunks! There were only – she did a quick mental tally – only about fifty beds! That meant they would have to share.

Anne turned to Ian, horrified. She could see by the expression on his face that he was coming to the same realization. There was one bunk bed per family.

Anne looked bleakly at the floor and spied wooden buckets, placed here and there among the beds. “Oh, dear God,” Anne thought. “Those are our toilets!”

Her heart racing, Anne spun on her heels and tried to make for the ladder. There was still time to get off the ship. She would go home. Perhaps she could convince her father that she should not be married. Perhaps she could go live with her aunt.

The press of settlers coming down the ladder halted her. She was caught like a sheep in a cote. The air was heavy with tar and damp wood, rotten fish and hot, nervous bodies. Anne's breath came in little gasps.

Ian was at her elbow. He put his arm about her shoulders and said quietly, “It'll be all right, lass. It's not so bad. I can sleep up on the deck. You can have the bunk. And look – see how the Sutherlands and the Chisholms are putting up blankets for a little privacy around their bunks? We can use our cloaks to do that. It will not be very comfortable, but it's better than swimming, eh?”

Anne smiled wanly at his attempt at a joke. She knew Ian was just as scared as she was. But he was putting on a brave face and trying to make her feel better. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

Of course, there really was no turning back. She could never go home.

She heard John MacKay up on deck, playing his pipes. She took heart. She nodded and started to unpack.

Still more settlers poured down the ladder. The air was so heavy Anne thought she would pass out. Little Christina, her two siblings, and their mother were nearby. All three children were crying and the mother's lip was trembling as she tried to hang a blanket from an upper bunk to give her girls some private space. The mother had looked like a sturdy woman
when she'd been out on the deck, but here she seemed frail and frightened.

Anne wiggled between other settlers to stand next to the distraught mother. The woman looked at her bleakly. “They are so afraid,” she said simply, her voice quivering. She brushed a tendril of mahogany hair off her face, removing a tear from her cheek in the same movement.

Anne nodded. “I'm Anne Grant.”

“Katherine McKay MacLeod. And these are my three girls. Hugh MacLeod is my husband. He's up on deck, helping unload the longboat.”

“Would it be any help… I could take the children up and let them watch the longboats come in. They might not be so afraid up there. It's so crowded here right now.”

Katherine's hazel eyes glistened and she gave a ghost of a smile. “Aye, that would be grand if you would do that.”

Anne scooped up the infant girl and tucked her under one arm, then Katherine helped her settle the toddler against her other shoulder. The mother's brow furrowed. “Are you sure you can manage?”

Anne smiled. “They aren't heavy. Come along, Christina, let's go see the boats.”

Katherine gave her oldest daughter a little push on the shoulder to get her to follow Anne, and the girl obediently trailed in Anne's wake. It was slow going, but because Anne had the crying babes in her arms, people allowed her to squeeze by, and she eventually found herself at the foot of the ladder.

She hadn't thought how she'd climb up to the deck with her arms full of babies. She stood uncertainly for a moment. A deckhand glanced down and noticed her there. He was gangly, like a half-grown colt, and his face was burned from the sun and the sea wind. He reached down with one long arm and took the toddler from Anne. The little girl's eyes opened as wide as a frightened lamb's, but Anne was up the ladder in no time, and had the child in her arms again. She thanked the crewman, who strode off without a backward glance.

“Probably thinks I'm quite useless, not able to climb a ladder with my arms full. I'd like to see him manage it in a skirt!” Anne fumed.

Once out on the deck, with the salt air blowing in their faces and the boats to watch, the girls' whimpering subsided. Anne set the toddler down, instructing Christina to keep hold of her sister's hand, no matter what. Christina took this responsibility very seriously. The wee girl yelped and Anne had to loosen Christina's fingers.

Christina began to chatter to Anne. “These are my sisters.” She indicated the toddler with a tilt of her head. “She's Janet.” Then she pointed to the infant in Anne's arms. “She's Alexa. We all got our eyes from Mama and our red hair from Papa.”

“I see,” said Anne, smiling.

“The crop failure was very bad for Papa. So we are going to find a better place to live across the sea. Mama doesn't really want to go, but Papa said he can't live in Scotland any more, not the way the damned English are using us.”

Anne decided not to chastise the child for her blasphemy; she knew Christina was only parroting what she'd heard. It was a sentiment held by most Scots.

The sun was getting high in the sky and the girls were getting restless and hungry. Anne wondered what was going to be done about feeding them.

It looked as if the last longboat was rowing toward the
Hector
. It held only a few passengers.

The captain barked orders. Crewmen swung about in the rigging and bustled on the decks. Anne felt dizzy, watching the men on the masts high above the deck.

Katherine appeared at Anne's side. She had a small loaf of dark bread in her hand. She broke it into four pieces, giving some to the two older girls and offering a bite to Anne. Anne shook her head. “You need your rations,” she said. “I'll get my own.”

Katherine popped some bread into her mouth and took little Alexa from Anne's tired arms.

“I can't thank you enough,” Katherine said, smiling. She had regained her composure and was standing steadfast and calm with her girls about her. The baby nuzzled at her bodice.

“I am very glad to help,” Anne said sincerely. “I'm sure we will all need to help one another for the next couple of weeks.”

“Aye.”

Alexa stopped nuzzling and began to howl lustily. Katherine said, “She's hungry. I'll take her below to feed her. Come, girls. You can finish your bread with me.”

The little girls, still hand-in-hand, trundled along after their mother. Anne was put in mind of rose-coloured ducklings waddling after their mother. They turned at the hatchway to give Anne a little wave. She smiled and waved back.

Anne shook her head. She would not want to trade places with Katherine MacLeod, not for a gold crown. Anne had only herself to care for. Katherine had three other precious lives to bring safely to a new land and a new life.

Anne's stomach grumbled. She glanced around. Most of the settlers were up on deck again. Once they'd found a bunk and a place to stow their belongings, they left the oppression of the hold for the sunny topside. A lot of them were eating a chunk of bread. “Where did they get that?” Anne wondered. Just then, Ian appeared. He had a loaf, which he broke in half, passing Anne her share.

“Thank you,” she said. “I was getting hungry.”

They ate quietly, watching the last longboat as it was unloaded. The longboat was then hoisted from the water, swung aboard the ship, and turned keel upward between the first and second masts. The
Hector
's anchor was hauled up from the depths of the loch by the windlass and catted up at the bow. More sails were unfurled and the ship slowly turned to lumber down the loch.

Anne gazed at the shore as it slid away, a lump in her throat. She could no longer swallow the bread.

Ian glanced at her tear-streaked face and slipped his arm around her shoulders. They watched in solemn silence as their homeland disappeared.

Chapter 5

T
HE BAGPIPES HUMMED A
sad lament as the
Hector
wallowed over the loch waters toward the open sea.

Except for the orders from the captain and mate and the movements of the crew to keep the vessel steady on her course down the narrow waterway, there was a hush over the ship. All her passengers were overcome by the enormity of leaving their homeland. Parents gathered children close.

John MacKay shifted the bagpipes in his arms and took a deep breath. Then he began to play a rallying song. The rhythm was strong, the melody designed to muster courage and strength. The Scots responded to the call. Backbones stiffened, shoulders squared. The spell of fear was broken. Passengers began to talk softly together.

A solidly built young Scot with deeply tanned skin and a lock of fair hair falling over his forehead came around with a pail of water and a dipper. He resembled a yearling Shire colt: brawny, tall and gangly. “I'm John Stewart,” he said pleasantly, with a voice that sounded like it came from the bottom of a barrel. “Drink?”

“Our cups are below,” Ian said. “I'll go and fetch them. Do you mind waiting here a moment?”

John Stewart flashed a quick grin. “And where would I be going?” he asked.

Ian nodded and headed for the ladder. The deck was crowded, so he had to weave through knots of people to reach the hatch.

Anne nodded shyly to John. He said, “We get a pint of water a day. And since it looks like we have lots of salt meat for the journey, something to wet our throats is welcome, I am thinking.”

“Aye, I am sure,” Anne agreed.

“I came aboard at Greenock,” John continued. “Passing out the day's water fell to me on the way here, so I have kept on with it.”

“I heard there were a few people who took passage there,” Anne said.

“Aye. We were delayed quite some time. Cargo. But we're off now.”

Ian rejoined them with two wooden cups. John Stewart dipped water from his pail, filled their cups, then with a cheery, “G'day,” he moved along to other travellers.

John MacKay put away his pipes and roved the ship, speaking to each group of passengers that he met. He came to Ian and Anne.

“Did you eat?” Ian asked.

“Oh, aye!” John MacKay said, smiling. “Never fear.”

“And water?” Anne inquired.

“Aye, my parched throat was quenched too, lassie.” His eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “Ah, 'tis good to be off at last.” He gazed out over the bow.

“How long,” Ian ventured, “do you think the voyage will take?”

“Well now, lad, that be up to God and the weather. And our good ship and captain. But with any luck, we'll be in our new land in four weeks.”

“Four weeks! It will really take a whole month!?” Anne asked.

“Oh, aye. The voyages to the New World usually do, lass. Did you not know?”

Anne shook her head.

John MacKay nodded to them both and moved along to speak with the next huddle of passengers along the rail.

As the afternoon wore on, Anne got tired of standing on deck. Her blistered feet throbbed, and the rocking motion of the ship was making her feel light-headed. She thought she'd go below and lie down.

Once she reached her bunk, she realized that she'd made a huge mistake. The air in the hold was heavy with the smell of vomit, urine and diarrhea. Several miserable passengers lay curled on their bunks, moaning or sobbing.

Anne turned to flee to the fresh air on deck when she heard her name called. She swallowed the bile that came to the back of her tongue and turned. Katherine was nearby, stooped over a bunk bed. She beckoned Anne to her.

With enormous force of will over her heaving stomach, Anne stepped up to Katherine. The odour of vomit was overpoweringly sharp.

“This is Janet Fraser,” Katherine said, indicating a young woman lying curled on the bunk. Janet's freckles stood out vividly against her pasty white face. Her strawberry-blonde hair was damp on her forehead. “I need you to help me get her out of here and up on deck. Please. I must get her into the air.”

Anne clenched her teeth and nodded. She gently took Janet Fraser's shoulders and helped Katherine roll her to sit up. It was only then that Anne realized that Janet was very much pregnant.

“Now,” Katherine ordered Janet, “let's get you on your feet.”