Rebecca whispered, “She thrashed a bit in the night, but since dawn, she has not so much as twitched. I tried to get her to take some water, but couldn’t get her to swallow a drop.”
“Let us try together,” Anne suggested.
With Anne holding her shoulders and Rebecca tilting the cup, they managed to wet Katherine’s lips, but she could not drink.
Anne bit her lip as she eased her friend back onto the bunk. Rebecca’s eyes met hers and she shook her head.
Lily arrived then to relieve Rebecca. She regarded Anne’s pinched face and demanded, “Who is sitting with Christina this morning so you can rest, Anne?”
“I… I don’t mind….”
“If you get too tired, you’ll be the next one we have to nurse. Now, go up on deck and have a proper sleep. Rebecca, please ask Marion to come down. She can be with the child for a while.” When she saw that Anne hesitated, Lily commanded, “Go!”
Anne stumbled up the ladder. Lily was right, Anne knew, as tears flooded her vision. She collapsed on canvas sacking and fell into a troubled sleep.
The few hours of sleep did refresh her a little, and when she returned to Christina in the afternoon, the sight of the little girl awake and alert made her heart warm.
“Well, lass, you are awake,” Anne greeted her.
“Aye,” Christina croaked.
Marion said, “She’s had a bit of water, but naught yet to eat.”
“Do you feel hungry?” Anne asked hopefully.
Christina shook her head.
“Well, perhaps by suppertime.”
Marion eased away and Anne sat by the bunk on an overturned bucket. She held the girl’s hand.
“Are Mama and Papa angry with me?” Christina whispered.
Anne’s eyes opened wide. “Why would you think that, lass?”
“I should never have gone to the mermaid that night. The night of the storm. And then I got sick and made all this trouble….”
“Oh, Christina, nay.” Anne leaned forward and gave her a hug. “Your mama and papa are not angry. They are just worried. Now that you are feeling better, they are right glad.”
“Then where is Mama?” the child wailed.
Anne sat back and looked at Christina sadly. At last she explained, “She’s feeling poorly, lass, and needs to rest herself right now. So she asked me to sit with you. Would that be all right for now?”
Christina’s eyes were dull but she nodded. Anne hoped she hadn’t upset the child. Christina would need all the spirit she could muster to recover.
Anne coaxed some oatcake softened in water into her charge at suppertime. She made sure Christina had the best portion of food that she could find. Then she watched as sleep washed over the little girl.
Anne’s next few days were filled with caring for Christina. Christina ate and drank small portions and slowly began to gain strength.
During that time, Katherine’s fever ravaged her body; she was rarely conscious.
After a few days, Lily suggested that the little girl be brought up on deck. The fresh air and activity might brighten her up. Hugh came below to carry her up the ladder.
As they made their way past Katherine, Christina twisted in Hugh’s arms, pointing at the prone figure on the bunk. She cried out, “Mama! Mama! That’s my mama!”
Hugh’s lips pressed together. He held his tiny daughter tightly as he hurried up the ladder. Christina was sobbing as he set her gently on a bed of cloaks near the bow. “Mama, Mama!” she wailed. Hugh held her in his arms and rocked her to and fro.
Elspie rushed over. Hugh’s face was grief-stricken as he murmured, “She saw Katherine as I brought her up.”
Elspie sighed and nodded. She knelt by the terrified girl and stroked her red curls and whispered in her ear as Hugh continued to rock her in his arms. Eventually, her sobs subsided and Christina fell into an exhausted sleep.
“Thank you,” Hugh said earnestly to his sister-in-law.
Elspie patted his shoulder. “You are welcome, Hugh. I’ll do whatever I can.”
He nodded. “I know. You are a good woman.”
Sorrow marked the day. Later that morning, a Ross youth succumbed to smallpox. Before his funeral prayers were finished, a second child, a six-year-old girl of the Munroe family, passed away. A second funeral was performed before noon.
The following day, Anne did her best to amuse Christina, trying to distract her from worrying over her mother. Anne felt like a fly about a donkey’s ears – buzzing around, but accomplishing little except to irritate the girl. Christina ignored her for the most part, drawing within herself.
It was Elspie and her boys, and Janet and Alexa, who finally brought Christina out of her shell. The children frolicked nearby and little by little Christina was drawn into their games. Elspie was always close by to scold and cuddle and laugh, providing Christina the mothering she craved.
Anne realized Christina did not need her. She felt hurt at first, then shook off the resentment as being silly and selfish, and took herself where she was needed. She descended to the hold and settled next to Katherine’s bedside.
She was sitting in the dank hold when she heard the lookout shout, “Newfoundland!” This time, there was no jubilation aboard the Hector. Superstitious fear swept over the Scots. There were many anxious glances at the western sky and earnest, nervous prayers.
The pox appeared over Katherine’s face and limbs that evening. Anne had been quite sure that Katherine had smallpox, but it repulsed her to actually see the welts contort and redden Katherine’s pale skin.
As the Hector scudded past the Avalon Peninsula of Newfoundland, Lily came below to relieve Anne.
“Is there any hope?” Anne asked plaintively.
Lily shook her head but said, “Where there’s life, there is always hope.”
“I feel so helpless. Why is there naught we can do for her? She is a good woman. She does not deserve this.”
Lily grimaced. “Most do not, lass.”
“How do you keep going, Lily? You have nursed so many this voyage and there have been… how many lost? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
“Why do you think I’m such a cranky old goat?” Lily said, one corner of her lips lifting. “You need a bit of flint in your heart or you go mad from the grief.”
Anne gave a weary smile. She hugged the dour matron and said softly, “I think it’s all an act, Lily. I think you are the dearest, most generous soul on this ship.”
Lily blinked rapidly several times and turned her head as if to check on Katherine’s blankets. “Off with you, now, to get some food and sleep. I’ll expect you back here in a few hours to watch again, mind.”
Anne kissed Lily’s cheek as she rose to go above.
She woke to angry words.
“You can’t be serious!”
“Well, it is your choice, Mr. Cameron. You can eat this or go hungry. It is all the same to me.” John Sutherland was speaking in a low, controlled voice.
“I do not believe there is naught left but this foul trash!” Alex Cameron yelled.
“Are you calling me a liar, then?” John Sutherland asked, menace creeping into his mild voice.
“I’m saying the captain is keeping the best of the supplies for himself and his pompous mate and he’s letting us eat this garbage.”
“There is no more food!” John’s voice had risen to a shout. Passengers froze, eyes captured by this hot exchange. “You fool, we have been at sea far longer than was planned for. The storm blew us halfway back to Scotland! These oatcakes that Hugh saved are all that’s left!”
A heavy silence hung over the ship.
Alex Cameron blanched, then colour rose in his face, flushing his cheeks and neck a vivid red. His eyes narrowed and he bent his head to glare into John’s face. “We’ll see about this. You are such grand friends with Hugh MacLeod. Maybe he knows where the decent food is and is eating well while you are handing out this slop to the rest of us.”
John’s nostrils flared. His fist
s clenched. “How dare you accuse –”
“What is all this?” a voice barked. Alex Cameron spun around to find the captain striding up to them.
“Mister Sutherland,” Alex spat, “is trying to tell me that there are no provisions left but these moldy oatcakes, Captain.”
Captain Spiers stood with his back ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back. His face darkened into a scowl.
Alex continued. “There must still be decent foodstuffs aboard, Captain, and I demand to have my share of them. I paid my fare, and I deserve my allotment of daily rations. It is bad enough that we have been cut down to half the share we were promised. And now this!”
John Sutherland glared at Alex Cameron from under his bushy brows. “You get what the rest of us get.”
“And how do I know that there is not a nice little cache of salt meat tucked away for you and your friends?” Alex sneered.
“So,” the captain stated, “Mister Cameron, you feel there is food aplenty hidden away on this ship?”
Alex’s eyes shifted from John Sutherland to the captain. He lifted his chin and said, “There must be more than these miserable foul things.” He gestured to the oatcakes that John held.
“Very well, Mister Cameron. Since you are so convinced, we will allow Mister Sutherland to continue to distribute oatcakes to those who are grateful to have such as this to eat. And you will come below with me. You will search the hold for other provisions and you may partake of any that you find there.”
Alex Cameron shuffled his feet. He regarded the firm set of the captain’s jaw. He glanced about at his fellow passengers. Those who would meet his eyes held hard, contemptuous stares.
John nodded to the captain and stepped away, passing out the ration of oatcakes. No one else refused the spoiled food.
Alex Cameron swallowed loudly, causing his Adam’s apple to bobble. “Follow me,” the captain commanded. He turned on his heel, headed for the cargo deck.
Alex trailed after him saying, “Uh, perhaps, Captain, I was a bit hasty….”
Without looking over his shoulder, the captain snapped, “Before you think again to call any man on my ship a liar, Mister Cameron, you had best know the facts. And for your supper tonight you will eat only those fine provisions that you find hidden away.”
Alex Cameron had a long and hungry night.
Chapter 12
REBECCA PATTERSON OFFERED TO watch Katherine through the night so both Lily and Anne could get a decent sleep. Anne settled next to Ian on their pile of canvas, but she could not close her eyes. Every time she did, Katherine’s ravaged face floated before her. At last she sat up.
Ian pushed himself up on an elbow and regarded her, chin in hand. At last he whispered, “Cannot sleep?”
Anne murmured, “Nay.”
Ian sat up and put his arm around Anne’s waist, drawing her near him. Anne let her head drop to his shoulder. The creak of the ropes and the hiss of the waves filled their silence. Then Anne sighed, “What will Hugh do? How will he manage with three little girls, all alone?”
Ian did not answer. There seemed to be none.
“She is a dear woman. Full of kindness. And spirit. A good friend.” Anne brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. “She should not die. Oh, Ian, it’s not right that she should die.”
Ian stroked her hair, and kissed the top of her head. He let her cry without interrupting her sorrow with words.
When Anne’s tears were spent, Ian took both of her hands in his. He peered at her in the summer night, their only light the reflection of the stars on the smooth waves.
“Anne,” he whispered.
Her eyes met his.
“Anne,” he repeated. He sighed. “I cannot bear the thought that we could be separated. Ever. We have been through so much. I know now that I need you with me. I know you came with me to escape marriage to MacDonald. I know I am naught to you but a friend. But I would like… Oh Anne… If you would have me as your husband….”
His words flooded Anne with joy and overwhelming peace, like a hot drink on a January day. The desire to laugh, to cry, to sing, to shout, bubbled up into her heart.
Courage left Ian. His gaze dropped to the deck. He loosed his hold on her fingers, and began to turn from her.
“Ian,” she whispered urgently. She reached out and placed her palm on his warm cheek. He slowly brought his eyes back to meet hers.
Anne bit her trembling lip, then said, softly but clearly, “I would be so honoured to have you as my husband. You are the most dear, caring man…. How could I go on without you?”
Ian gaped at her a moment, then grabbed her in a bear hug that crushed the air from her. She gasped and threw her arms around his neck. He eased his grip just enough to bring his head down so he could kiss her, warmly, passionately, on the mouth. When his lips touched hers, it was sweet – as sweet as the first crisp, juicy apple in autumn.
Then he whispered in her ear, “I love you, Anne Grant.”
“I love you, Ian. Aye, I love you, too.”
“I’ll speak with the captain,” Ian whispered into her hair. “I will see if he will marry us before we leave the ship.”
Anne sighed. “Do you not think he’ll be angry? We lied about being husband and wife to get aboard….”
Ian thought a moment. “Let me speak with him,” was all he said.
They lay with their arms wrapped about one another. The gentle rocking of the Hector eventually soothed them into sleep.
Breakfast consisted of the pitiful moldy oatcakes. Ian used his knife to cut away the worst of the spoiled edges for Anne. They tasted foul, and washed down with stale water, they did little to satisfy the appetite.
The sun was just beginning to lift the morning fog when there was a great splash near the ship. The settlers cried out in surprise. Many rushed to the starboard rail and peered into the misty morning. Just when they were starting to think they had imagined the noise, another great splash rippled the wispy fog.
“What was that?” Rebecca Patterson squeaked.
A sound like rushing air came out of the mists and then an enormous dark shape loomed up next to the Hector. Passengers gasped and shuffled back from the rail.
“It’s a sea monster!” a woman screamed.
The settlers began to yell and mill about in panic. The captain strode into their midst and barked, “Silence! Stand fast!” Everyone froze.
The shape in the water raised its back and then lifted its magnificent T-shaped tail. The tail must have been fifteen feet across, white with an edging of black. It slipped noiselessly below the surface. The passengers stood in awe, their mouths agape.
“That creature is a whale,” the captain announced. “A humpback whale. They feed in these waters. They are quite harmless to ships.”
The settlers huddled uneasily, staring at the sea.
About thirty feet from the bow, the whale erupted from the water and crashed upon the waves. The wake of its splash rocked the Hector. A few of the settlers scuttled below, making the sign of the cross as they went; most stood in silent fascination, transfixed by the magnificence of the creature.
It dove again, then several moments later, resurfaced, spouting a fountain of moist air through its blowhole. The whale swam atop the waves for a time and then crashed its huge white flipper on the surface, drumming the sea. Eventually, it rolled and dove, displaying its astonishing tail once more.
It was the most majestic thing Anne had ever seen. Such power and grace. It quite took her breath away. She glanced up into Ian’s face and saw her awed amazement mirrored in his eyes.
The humpback had been feeding just off the coast of Cape Breton Island, the northern tip of Nova Scotia. They sighted the island as the morning fog lifted.
Anne braced her resolve and went below. Lily was there already. Katherine lay limp, her breath rasping. The pox marred her face so that she was hardly recognizable.
Anne swallowed loudly twice, thrice, then made for a bucket and retched.
She knelt, shivering over the bucket for a time, till her head stopped reeling. At last, she got unsteadily to her feet. She stood with one hand on a bunk, then bent and picked up the bucket. Wordlessly she carried it up on deck, emptied it, and scrubbed it out.
John Stewart approached her. “Ah, Anne. A word with you?”
“Oh, John, not now.”
He frowned.
Anne sighed. “I am busy, with Katherine, you know. And besides, John…”
“I see,” he cut her off. He skulked across the deck toward some men at the bow.
Anne shook her head and returned to Katherine’s bedside.
Lily glanced up at her, but said not a word. She simply took Anne’s cold hand in her own for a moment, giving it a squeeze.
They sponged Katherine’s hot forehead and wet her dry, chapped lips throughout the day. They spoke little.
Rebecca came to relieve them at sunset. Anne and Lily trudged wearily to the deck. The sun blazed to a crimson and violet end over a silver sea.
Anne leaned on the rail and watched the day die.
Ian came to her as the last tendrils of light streaked the western horizon. He waited till Anne turned her face toward him.
“I talked with Captain Spiers,” he said, his tone even.
Anne waited. There could be no joy, she feared. The master of the ship would be very angry with them. He probably refused Ian’s request. He may even plan to punish them.
Ian said softly, “Did you mean what you said last night?”
Anne’s backbone straightened. “Of course I did! How could you doubt…?”
“Well,” Ian continued in a quiet voice, “if you have a mind to, Captain Spiers would be pleased to see us in his cabin.”
“Now?”
“Aye.” Ian did not move. He waited for her.
Anne was so weighed down with the heavy grief of her day, it took a long moment to shake free of it. She looked out at the darkening sky, and spied the first star as it pricked the eastern heavens with a pinpoint of light. She took a deep breath and reached out to touch Ian’s cheek.
“Let us not keep the good captain waiting any longer, then,” she said at last.
Oatcakes and Courage Page 11