The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (44 page)

He grinned then. "Aye, I'm thinking the same thing. How about The Pride of Scotland)"

I shook my head. "I have a better idea, my love. The Rose of Scotland. "

He laughed. "Aye. The Wild Rose of Scotland. After ye, Mary Rose."

Later I decided that it had been I who had gone mad.

The Hammer of Scotland passed us at nine in the morning, and a few moments later the
Mary
Rose glided
silently
out of her slip, Gannon's Lady just behind her. The boys and I were safely tucked into the big cabin on Gannon's Lady and had promised to stay safely out of sight. Most of her crew had gone on the Mary Rose. And Dennis, her captain, had agreed to flee if the action went badly. I rocked Robbie and sat on the berth with Ian and Jamie. But my thoughts were with Alex.

It was a daring and dangerous plan. The Mary Rose would cross the bigger ship's bow and fire once into her staysails, then the Margaret would come behind her and do the same. And then the two brigs would come up on each of her sides and the men would board her. A simple plan, laid out like that, but not so simple in execution. The Mary Rose and Margaret were each less than half the size of The Hammer of Scotland, 140 tons to her over 350, and she had twice the cannon of them combined. And would not hesitate to use them. And the size made other things difficult. The brigs' sails would be vulnerable to attack when they came alongside, but the East Indiaman's would be out of reach until the clansmen got on board her.
Once the prisoners were freed they could help, but until then the Kilgannon men would face well-armed and trained soldiers and sailors alone.
I rocked my child and prayed. All went well at first.

T
HE HAMMER OF SCOTLAND SAILED INTO THE OPEN ocean with the poise of a ship well accustomed to the sea. Her sails were all unfurled now, and five miles from the shore her escort began to slip behind her. We met the Margaret as planned, and three brigs kept well behind and close together, as though they were merchant ships off on a trading trip. Designed to be fleet, they slid through the water with ease, their crews alert to every slight change in their prey's course.

The Mary Rose was the first to pass the escort ships, two small men-of-war. But she caused no alarm, for she flew British colors and signaled as though she were a private merchant ship, not a privateer. The Margaret passed the escorts in the same fashion, then Gannon's Lady. The boys and I stood on deck as we passed them, safe for the moment. And then Dennis ordered us below again.

We sailed all afternoon,
quietly
pursuing The Hammer of Scotland, but careful not to attract attention or to get too close. And then, as the dusk gathered, Alex made his move.

The Mary Rose and the Margaret slid forward into their places, catching the East Indiaman by surprise. We heard the first gun and the splintering crash of the topsail and knew the gunners had been successful. The cries of the crew on the huge ship carried over the water,
angry
and fearful, and I paused for just a moment to remember all those who would lose their lives today so that others might go free. A moment later the second gun sounded and the crack of a mast was heard, and then I could not distinguish noises, for The Hammer of Scotland had found her cannon. I opened the cabin door and stood at the foot of the stairs to the deck, trying to tell what had happened, but the sounds were deafening. I crept up a step or two, then three, while waving Ian and Jamie back down. And then I lifted my head above the hatch and stared in shock.

Smoke was everywhere. The forward sails dripped down over the bow of the merchant ship, and the damaged mizzenmast at the stern hampered her crew's attempts at steering, for the wreckage of the mast lay across her wheel. There were men everywhere, scurrying up the rigging and running across the decks. The Mary Rose, closest to us, was circling and, as we watched, pulled tight alongside the bigger ship. I could not tell if the Margaret was on the other side. I could see Alex directing men up the ropes they'd thrown to the East Indiaman's decks, and the English soldiers, their red coats visible even through the haze, leaning over with drawn swords and pistols to repel them. Men fell from the ropes on their companions below and from where I stood it looked as though the clansmen were making
little
progress.

Two men climbed high into the rigging of the Mary Rose and aimed pistols at the English soldiers, who shot at them. Matthew, I realized with a shock as his head flew back and his bonnet fell to the deck far below. But he did not seem hurt and reached calmly down for the pistol that Gilbey handed to him. And shot one of the soldiers repulsing the invaders. The smoke was too thick for me to see then, and Dennis fell away from the action, circling between the three ships and where the escorts would soon be. I looked back at the scene, but could see no signs of victory for either side.

When we came closer again I could see that some of the Kilgannon men were now fighting on the deck of the East Indiaman, battling with swords and knives. There was no sign of the Jacobites, who must still be below. And then I could see no more as we pulled away, far from the action. I stood with clenched hands and waited while we made our turn.

We circled closer again and this time we could see both the Mary Rose and the Margaret, still intact, tied to the sides of The Hammer of Scotland, and red coats littering the deck of the merchant ship. There were too many men on deck to be just the soldiers and Kilgannon men, and I realized that the prisoners must have been freed. I breathed a prayer of thanks. It was almost over.

We fell away again and this time our circle was wider and led us far from the action. And revealed one of the escort ships approaching. I came on deck then and went to stand with Dennis, who gave me a glance but did not order me below. He narrowed his eyes as he gauged the escort ship's speed, then looked behind us to where the smoke still cloaked the three ships. Anyone would know at once that a battle was under way, I realized, and Gannon's

Lady's
position, neither in the battle nor running from it, would be suspect. We had little time before the escort ship realized that all was not as it seemed.

Dennis gave me another glance, then gestured to the escort ship behind us. "We're leaving, Lady Mary," he said.

"Captain," I began, but Dennis cut across my words.

"I ha' my orders, madam. And I'll no' be the one to have to explain to Laird Alex how I delivered his wife to the English. Get ye below, please, madam, and mind the wee ones. We're off."

"But, Captain, the
battle
is almost over. They've taken the ship. We can join them."

He gestured to the escort ship. "Lady Mary, we'll head for them, but it's almost dark and the wind is rising. The escort ship is closer to us than we are to them. I must mind yer safety. Please, madam, get ye below and out of the way."

I scrambled to obey, confident that we'd be with the Mary Rose and Alex before long. I was wrong. Darkness fell and with it came a squall that drove us south. And with us, its sails white against the dark sky, one of the escort ships. A man-of-war, with twenty-eight guns, Dennis said, and a contingent of soldiers to aid its sailors. We had only a skeleton crew with us, for most of Dennis's men were with Alex.

With the dawn came the empty sky. And an empty sea as well. I was pleased, thinking that we'd head for Kilgannon and meet the others there, but Dennis was not, for the air was still. We changed course and he cursed, for we had turned to meet the escort ship. She was well armed but heavy, built for war, not speed, and Dennis was confident that Gannon's Lady could outrun her if he could find some wind. He cursed again a short time later, for the second escort ship had been blown south with us as well and now followed us.

I stood on the deck with the captain, watching the two ships, one on either side of us. Dennis turned to look further out to sea and nodded to a crewman. "Fall off," he growled. "We'll have to head out further. Find some wind. Take us to France if ye have to." The man followed his order.

But the escorts followed and Dennis cursed again. "We're no' acting innocent, ye ken, Lady Mary, and now we've aroused their interest. No doubt they saw that The Hammer of Scotland was taken and they've an idea who it

was." He frowned. "We'll have to hope the wind doesna rise offshore, for if it does they'll get it first and be here with the wind. We can outrun them if we get the wind." He frowned again. "But no' without it."

They got the wind first and bore down on us while we waited, all but becalmed. Dennis ordered his men to arm themselves and me to barricade myself in the cabin. I sat on the berth, the same berth, I realized, where I had seen Alex, all those years ago, lying ill, brought close to death by Malcolm's
treachery
. I thought of all that had happened since then. And I prayed. Gannon's Lady held much of my personal history, and I was not ready hand her, nor my sons, over to the English.

I felt the first breeze find us and heard the orders Dennis shouted. And a moment later clutched my baby as the ship lurched forward. The boys cheered as we turned more fully into the wind and caught a huge gust that propelled us ahead. As we veered north I saw our pursuers, close now, turn to match our course. And then, behind them, the sails of a much larger ship, The Hammer of Scotland, with the sails of two smaller ships just before her. The escort ships

changed course, running for the south. And I laughed.

Kilgannon. Home. There were times I thought I'd never see it again. The air was cold this winter morning and the sun glinted off the water, turning it from sapphire to silver. Above us the mountains loomed deep blue against the pale sky; white clouds scudded overhead. And the bare branches of the trees reminded me that this was the season of death. So much death.

All those months, when I had thought of coming home, I'd assumed we would all be here. Matthew's face was shuttered. He had been silent for most of the journey, but when we had stopped at Duart, he'd stood at the edge of the cliff and cried with us, and Murdoch, as we piped his brother home. We bid Duncan welcome. And farewell. And farewell for us possibly as well. If we were wise, we would visit those still here and then we'd leave, away in the dark like the criminals we'd become.

I glanced at Alex, standing so
quietly
next to me, with our son in his arms, then gripped the rail of the Mary Rose and watched us turn into the inner loch. And a few moments later, as we sailed around the headland, there it was, the most beautiful home on earth. The dark stones rose into the sky, the roof of the

keep pointing at the clouds. The gulls overhead called their welcome. Kilgannon. Home.

It was the same and I sighed with relief. There was our room, and there the parapet where I'd watched so many sunsets. And there, in the meadow beyond the casde itself, was the knoll where Alex had given the prizes, and where I had welcomed him home. And in front of us now, the dock where we had welcomed the MacDonald to change our lives. Next to me the boys bounced
impatiently
. I smiled at their eagerness and took a deep breath. Nowhere else on earth smelled like Kilgannon. The sea met the mountains and their scents mixed with an overnote of roses. Roses. Impossible, but there it was. Kilgannon smelled like heaven. I turned to look over the boys' heads, to the other side of the loch where Angus's grave was, and I sighed. It would be, I knew, the first place we'd visit.

"Home," I said.

"It seems so strange without my da," said Matthew
quietly
, following my gaze. "How can it be home if he's
no’ here
?"

"He is here," I said softly, turning to him as he towered over me, his handsome face drawn. "He is here, Matthew," I said again.

Next to me, Ian nodded. "It is home," he said and looked up at me. I smiled and put my hand on his shoulder.

"And I'm glad to be here," said Jamie, his voice bright.

"So am I," said Alex, his voice full of emotion. When I turned to him, he gave me a weary smile and I patted his arm, knowing he felt the empty space next to us.

I had imagined that Kilgannon would be deserted, that all the people would be gone, but the hills were dotted with tartan-clad figures running toward the loch, and on the dock a small group waved. I could see Ellen, her babe in her arms, and Dougall's wife Moira, and Berta. And Thomas's Murreal.
And Seamus MacCrimmon with his pipes.
And despite my best efforts, I felt my tears fall as the first lonely strains of "
MacGannon's
Return" came over the water to us.

Home.

For a while.