Kings Pinnacle

by Robert Gourley

  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.

  Robert just smiled at him.

  * * * *

  Alex

  After the storm passed, the ship, crew and passengers returned to their normal daily routines. Alex slept late in his hammock the next day and finally awoke when the sun was high in the sky. He got up and began a search for something to eat; he was famished from the previous day’s effort. One of the young sailors Alex was friendly with found him in the galley trying to beg something to eat from the cook.

  “Alex, the captain wants to see you in his cabin,” said the young tar.

  “Aye, I’ll go there right now,” replied Alex.

  Alex gave up his search for food and climbed the ladder up to the main deck. He made his way aft and climbed the ladder to quarterdeck, where he asked the captain’s steward to lead him to the captain’s quarters. The steward was aware that the captain had asked to see him, so he led Alex into the corridors behind the wheelhouse. When he arrived at the captain’s quarters, the steward knocked on the captain’s door.

  “Captain, the passenger that ye requested to see is here,” said the steward.

  “Show him in,” replied the captain.

  The steward opened the captain’s door and motioned for Alex to enter.

  “Thank you for coming to see me, Mackenzie. Have a seat,” said the captain.

  “It’s my pleasure, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “First I want to thank you for helping the crew during the storm yesterday. Without your help, we might have had much more difficulty handling the ship during the deluge. By keeping the bilge pumps going, you made the ship easier to handle during the storm and kept it from wallowing so much in the waves. I have also noticed during the voyage that you often help the crew with mending sails and other such shipboard duties. For that I would also like to thank you,” said the captain.

  “No thanks are necessary, captain. I enjoy staying busy and there’s not much else for me to do other than eat and sleep,” replied Alex.

  “We are most likely about two weeks from Philadelphia. It’s been a longer than expected voyage, and the crew and passengers are getting anxious to arrive. When we do arrive in Philadelphia, I know that I will have some desertions among the crew. On each trip a few of the crew decide that they would rather try their luck in America rather than serving on a passenger ship. I know I’ll be shorthanded on the return voyage. I was wondering if you would like to join the crew for the return voyage. I know it’s unlikely since you paid to go to America, but I thought I would ask anyway.”

  “Sir, I am honored that you have made me the offer, but I must respectfully decline. I intend to start a new life in America and I believe that is the life that is meant for me. Thank you very much for the offer though.”

  “Well, I had to try. Thanks for coming to speak with me and best of luck to you in America. My steward will show you out,” concluded the captain.

  The steward was summoned, but before he could lead Alex out the door, Alex turned to the captain. “Captain, sir,” said Alex, “there is something else you could do for me, if you want to show your thanks.”

  “What is that, lad?” asked the captain.

  “You could ask the cook to give me a bit of food to help me regain my strength,” said Alex with a grin.

  “That I can do, and gladly,” replied the captain, returning Alex’s smile. “Steward, please see to it.” The steward acknowledged the order and led Alex back to the ladder from the quarterdeck to the main deck and directly to the galley, where Alex received his reward in the form of the best meal he had eaten since the voyage began.

  The last two weeks of the voyage were uneventful. The arrival in Philadelphia was much anticipated by all the passengers. At first sight of land, the passengers began to gather their possessions on the main deck. As soon as the ship docked, they disembarked down the gangplank as quickly as it was put into position. Alex was a bit overwhelmed and didn’t really know where to go or what to do, so he lingered on the Ocean Monarch’s main deck until all the other passengers had departed. He watched Samuel Ruskin and Ruskin’s two friends walk down the gangplank and be greeted by some friends or associates. The group of you
ng men all walked off together, animatedly talking to each other, without a backward glance at the ship or Alex. Finally Alex, who was the last passenger to leave the ship, walked down the gangplank with his rifle, his dirk, and his remaining few possessions in an old rucksack that he carried over one shoulder. He had finally arrived in America and didn’t have a clue where to go or what he was going to do, but he was happy the ocean voyage was over.

  * * * *

  Robert and Hugh

  “How did the British know in advance that we would raid that farmstead across the border?” asked Robert.

  “We had a traitor in our midst and he hae been found and dealt with,” replied John with a grimace, thinking of the ordeal with the traitor.

  “Who was it?” asked Robert.

  “It was ane that we didn’t suspect, but he is nae longer residing on the earth, and we have more important matters to attend to. It’s nae safe here fer ye twa lads after they unravel the trick ye’ve done to free Hugh,” continued John Mackenzie, sitting with Robert and Hugh in the woods near John’s house.

  Robert nodded in agreement.

  “What do ye suppose we should do?” asked Hugh who was lying on the ground in a comfortable position with his feet propped up on a log and his hands behind his head.

  “I think ye should follow Alex to America,” replied John. “Ye have enough money from raiding to buy yer passage. So, I would high tail it back across the Sheuch to Ireland and grab the first ship oot o’ Larne. It’s nae safe fer ye to try and sail oot o’ Scotland. Ye can be sure that the authorities will be on the lookout fer ye twa lads at every port in Scotland.”