The ship rocked violently, sending anything that wasn’t tied down across the deck. The armament baskets emptied and ropes and pegs slid across the deck. The rocks used to weight one of the barrel lids tumbled off and left the lid ajar.
Moira slammed the lid back on. She reached down for the weight, and her feet went out from under her, sending her sliding across the deck toward the open railing.
Gareth didn’t think. He reached the open railing and scooped her up.
“I’m all right. See to the ship,” she said.
He put her down by the barrels.
“We’re not out of danger yet,” he said. All she did was nod.
The sail billowed, and the vessel veered toward shore. The entire ship shook as the larboard side scraped the rocks, leading into the Ol’ Mor River.
“Taking on water. Starboard hull,” the crew shouted.
“Get the repair pegs and hammer them in. That should give us some time. Once we’re past the shallows, we’ll row upstream to a safe place.”
A last gust of wind gave the ship the extra push it needed.
“Take down the sail,” Gareth said.
The crew pulled the halyard from the peg and lowered the yard. Others furled the sail and secured the boom.
“Oars,” Gareth shouted.
The wind died down upriver.
“Around the next bend is a deep cove where we can anchor. The ship will be well hidden there. We’ll wait out the storm and make our repairs,” Gareth said.
“There is only one way out. There is no way ta escape if Bridgeton finds us,” she said.
“We don’t have much choice. I would rather fix the boat here out of sight than in full view of Bridgeton, which will invite him to attack.”
“We have some repair material in the bow,” a crewman said.
“Do as much as you can. I want a man in the basket to keep watch, land and sea,” Gareth said.
The crew positioned the extra sail over their work area to keep them dry. Gareth stood with the small crew and struggled to make the repair with what they had on hand. The work was tedious and almost impossible during a storm. The only positive thing was the heavy rain and fog kept them hidden.
Chapter Fourteen
Kerrera, Scotland
September 26, 1267
Late morning
“Let Moira know we’ll be underway. She’s as eager to reach the castle as we are.” Gareth stood and rubbed his eyes. He would get to the castle at the appointed time. Once he and MacAlpin spoke to Laird Ewan about Bridgeton, the matter would be out of his hands.
As many times as he told himself to leave, to go on without her or Wesley, he found just as many reasons to stay. During the day he saw her at every turn, and she haunted his dreams at night. He convinced himself the prospect of dreamless nights would appeal to him. That was a lie. The thought of leaving Moira was… not pleasant.
“Moira isna aboard. She took Ross and Fergus and went into town. She wanted ta visit wi’ her family,” Angus said.
He looked at the crewman as if the man was daft. “By all that is holy.” Gareth rubbed the back of his neck. “How long has she been gone?”
“If she walked fast, she would’ve had enough time ta reach th’ tavern and finish a tankard of ale.”
“Too long,” Gareth mumbled. “You go on. Tell the crew to weigh anchor.”
“We’re no’ waiting for Moira and th’ others? I willna do that. She’s—”
“Your chieftain. I know. Staying here for repairs was fine.” He turned to Moira’s man. “But it’s not a place to be caught by the English. There is only one way out. We need to be out of the river.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll not leave anyone behind. I want you to follow my instructions exactly. Moira’s life depends on it.” Gareth led the way to the helm.
“Aye, sir. I’ll do whatever ye say.”
“Take the ship into the bay, then head east toward Ruhda Seanach into Kerrera Sound. Have the larboard watch look for a small cove. Bring the rowboat there, and make ready to take Moira back to the ship. Do you understand?”
“Aye, sir.”
He stared intently at the man.
“No one is to take the Pir,” Gareth said and searched the man’s face for understanding.
“I know th’ cargo we carry, as well as th’ danger. No one will ever take the Pir. Moira put a plan in place before we left Gilmar.”
“A plan? That doesn’t surprise me. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” At the head of the gangplank, he turned to the crew. “Safe travels.”
Gareth hurried away through the woods toward town.
Moira and her two men walked upriver, then headed through the forest to the other side of the peninsula. They continued along the beach, and came to the town.
“Can ye make out th’ ships? I think there are two,” she said, as she stepped in front of the tavern.
“No’ in this fog. Let’s hurry inside. I dinna like any place where I canna see what’s coming,” Fergus said.
Moira pulled open the thick wooden door. The dim room was packed with people talking, playing dice, and other games. There was no need to ask what was served to eat. One sniff and she identified bread and barley pottage.
Brody, the barman, a MacDougall second cousin, glanced at her. Even dressed in her breeches with her hat pulled down low and wrapped in a cloak, she was sure he recognized her.
He smiled and gave a slight dip of his head. He motioned for them to go to the back of the room. They made their way through the crowd. Her cousin brought each of them an ale.
“I keep this table for family. We heard there was an incident at Gilmar,” Brody said, his voice low. He laid his hand on her shoulder. “We’re here for ye should ye need us.”
His concern warmed her. Moira put her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze. She eased back into the chair.
“That is good ta know,” she said, her tone controlled. She had no choice but to come to the tavern. The chieftain of the MacDougalls of Gilmar didn’t hide on a ship tucked away in some secret cove on the river.
“What do you know of th’ ships in yer harbor?” Ross asked.
“One captain is brash, and must think th’ MacDougalls are dimwitted. He would have us believe he is sympathetic to our sovereignty, and seeks a weapon to use against th’ English. It’s not th’ first time he’s been here,” Brody said.
“When did ye see him last?” Fergus asked.
Brody bent closer. “A fortnight ago. Watch yer back.” He tapped her shoulder and headed to the kitchen.
“That was before th’ attack on Gilmar. What now?” Fergus asked.
“We wait.” She loosened her cloak.
Brody’s warning rang in her head. A traitor? She had all the information she needed.
Her ale gone, she set the tankard down, ready to leave.
A quiet hush came over the room. She looked up. A man was standing in the doorway, his face hidden amongst the crowd. But his cloak caught her attention. It was brown wool and held closed with her pin. He’d taken it from her after their fight, and she wanted it back.
“I know what you’re thinking, but now is not the time to start a fight.”
She swung around. Gareth stood next to her.
“Th’ pin he wears is mine. It was a gift from an admirer.” She turned back, and stared at Bridgeton.
“The ship is ready to sail. If he’s here, we can be away before he realizes who we are. That will give us a better chance of getting your cargo to Laird Ewan.”
Moira’s hands fisted at her sides. There were enough MacDougalls here to have her back. A sheen of sweat covered her face. Watch your back. Who among her people was a traitor? It could be anyone. She glanced at Gareth. She let out a breath and then led them out the back door.
Gareth crashed through the forest, making no attempt to be quiet. Moira matched him step for step. The others hurried behind them.
“What were you thinking
?” It was the third time he’d asked the question.
Moira grabbed his arm and swung him around.
“I went ta Brody ta find out about th’ English. I thought it would be good ta know if there was an immediate threat.”
She marched ahead of him. He stared after her, his mouth agape. His strides ate up the path as he caught up to her.
“Do you have any idea the danger we face?” he asked in a hushed tone. She said nothing as they continued on.
Finally, she had to say something and swung around. “And aye—”
He clamped his hand over her mouth. Ross and Fergus already scanned the forest behind them.
Gareth lifted his head, alert to his surroundings. The four stayed still for several heartbeats without speaking or moving.
The snap of a branch echoed in the woods.
Gareth signaled to the others to draw in close.
“Go to the cove. A boat will be waiting to take you to the Pir. Sail for the castle. You shouldn’t have any trouble. Bridgeton won’t want to risk a confrontation with Laird Ewan,” Gareth said.
“What about ye?” Moira asked.
Was that a look of concern on her face? He pushed the idea aside. His only thought was to get her to safety.
“I’ll traipse through the forest and make some noise so they follow me. I’ll meet you at the castle.”
“Ye canna make enough noise alone. I’ll go wi’ you,” Ross said.
Gareth didn’t have time to argue with him. He nodded his acceptance.
“But—”
“Go,” he interrupted. “You can tell me how you enjoyed the sail when I see you at the castle.”
Moira’s startled look almost made him smile.
“It was an adventure. I’ll see ye at th’ castle,” she said. “Come, Fergus.” They headed for the cove.
Gareth waited until they were out of sight.
“I hope you can swim,” he said to Ross as he continued to scan the forest. “This way. Try not to be too quiet. We want them to follow us.”
“I’ll lead th’ way,” Ross said as he grabbed a branch off the ground and swept away any sign that Moira and Fergus went in a different direction. “This is MacDougall land. My brothers and I know every leaf and blade of grass. We’ll lead them on a merry chase ta th’ south. They’ll think they have us trapped by th’ water. No one outside th’ family is aware of th’ cave network we used during th’ Viking raids. They havena been used th’ last few years, except by young boys on an adventure. We’ll make our way through th’e caves and back ta Kerrera Sound. First, let’s git their attention.”
“You are a pirate at heart.” A wicked smile spread across Gareth’s lips.
“More likely a young boy who played pirate games in these caves. It’s a bit tight, but we should be able ta squeeze through it without much trouble.” Ross brushed their tracks away.
Gareth didn’t have time to play pirate games. As the fourth son of a landless lord, he had to make his own way in the world. He preferred soldiering, but for now, a pirate’s life suited him.
“That should do it.” Ross tossed the branch away, a twinkle in his eye.
“Lead the way, Captain Ross.” Gareth gave the man a formal bow and followed him.
After making sure their trail was clearly marked, they headed for the cave.
“Here,” an Englishman called.
Gareth and Ross stopped and listened.
“They’re traveling south,” another Englishman said. “They’re moving fast.”
“Let them,” Bridgeton said. “They have no place to go but the beach. We’ll capture them there.”
The English took their time while Gareth and Ross hurried on ahead. Ross tapped Gareth on his shoulder and signaled at the cave entrance ahead, hidden by tall bushes and ivy. The two men squeezed past the boulders guarding the opening and crawled inside.
“Excuse th’ tight fit. I havena been here in years. But it still smells th’ same, all muddy and musty,” Ross said. He bent down and picked up a length of rope and tied it to his belt. “This is a lucky find. We kept rope here ta help guide us through the cave. Tie this end ta yer belt. Tis dark where we’re going. I dinna want ta lose ye. Keep yer hand on th’ wall. Th’ tunnel snakes away and goes deep into the ground.”
Gareth followed Ross’s instructions. He kept his hand on the wall as they traveled the passageways blindly. After a long while, he stopped.
“Did you carve these symbols into the stone?” Gareth asked as his finger traced the carving on the stone.
“We were clever boys. After our first venture into the cave resulted in one of us getting lost, we marked th’ stones.”
In the distance, the tunnel brightened.
“Not much farther. Doona step out. There’s only a small shelf of rock before th’ twenty-foot drop into Kerrera Sound. Tis th’ best part of th’ adventure.”
As they got closer to the end, light seeped into the tunnel. They kept going until they stood at the mouth of the cave and looked down at the water.
“Aim for th’ middle.” Ross didn’t look at him. He was a boy again, building his courage to jump. Ross tugged his arm, and they walked back a few feet.
“On three,” Gareth said.
Ross gave him a wide smile.
“One,” Gareth said.
“Two,” Ross said.
“Three.” they said in unison, then ran off the edge of the cliff. Falling through the air, both men concentrated on staying straight in order to make a clean dive.
Heart pounding, Gareth glanced down at the water. Judging the distance, he took a deep breath, and was in the water. As many times as he’d jumped off a cliff or the yard of a ship, his stomach still filled with butterflies.
The elation of the jump was quickly gone as he surged upward and broke through the surface. Gareth searched the area and spotted Ross close by. A quick nod, and Gareth set an easy pace for the swim to land a quarter-of-a-mile away.
Chapter Fifteen
Dundhragon Castle
September 26, 1267
Noon
“Did ye travel wearing that?” Maria, queen consort of his friend, Magnus Olafsson, King of Mann and the Isles, stood in her childhood bedroom with her friend, Moira.
“I did. What’s wrong wi’ it?” Moira stared at herself in the looking glass, searching every angle. “Is something amiss?”
“Something amiss? Ye’re wearing breeches.” Maria was bending over her trunk, pulling out dresses.
“What’s wrong wi’ breeches? I wear them all th’ time.”
Maria turned toward Moira, her proud but pale face set in a scowl.
“Ye are a beautiful, intelligent woman who is a MacDougall chieftain. You dinna need ta dress like yer father ta sit in his place.” Maria searched the trunk again. “Here it is.”
She pulled out a green, wool gown laced with strands of gold.
“Ye’ll look beautiful in this. Everyone in th’ hall will want ta talk ta ye.” Maria helped her out of her clothes. “Just because yer father wore breeches, doesn’t mean ye should. Is there someone ye’d like to have see ye looking special?”
Her heart pounded at the idea that Gareth would arrive at the castle soon. She glanced into the looking-glass and imagined him standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder, smiling at her in the way that made her weak in the knees.
“And what is this about an escape from Kerrera?” Maria asked as she added a few finishing touches to Moira.
Moira knew better than to give Maria the whole truth of the matter. It was her own fault they encountered Bridgeton.
“In a fit of panic, I overstated th’ situation.”
“Ye? Panic? Never. Ye keep yer head all th’ time. Now ye look much better.” Maria stepped back and examined her work. “Where is yer pin? It would look lovely on yer shoulder.”
“At home,” she lied.
“Did ye leave anything else at home?” Maria searched through her jewelry chest.
Mo
ira slipped her dirk into her bodice.
“No, but I did lose something along the way.” Moira nearly choked on her own words.
“What did ye lose? I’m sure I have something ye can use in its place.” Maria examined a pin, and put it back in the box.
“That’s kind of ye, but tis no’ replaceable.” She closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling.
“I’m sure ye will find it.” Maria clipped a pin onto her bodice. “Give me a spin.”
Moira did as her friend requested.
“Th’ color is perfect, th’ dress is perfect, and ye’re perfect.”
“I do like th’ color. It goes well wi’ my scarf,” Moira glanced at herself in the looking glass as she tied the cloth to her arm.
“Tis yers.” Maria held up her hand before she could object. “It looks better on ye than me. Now, off to Mam. If ye pass her inspection, ye’re off to yer audience wi’ Da.”
Moira, after paying respect to Lady Eugena, paced in the throne anteroom, waiting for her audience with Laird Ewan. He was not a stranger, or an official to her; he was family, close family. Her father had brought her to Dundhragon often. This meeting was like coming home. Except she was no longer the clan chieftain’s daughter. This was her first meeting as chieftain, and she came with a list of demands. She had the barrels unloaded and hoped presenting them to him would show her appreciation for his assistance in rebuilding and protection.
The door to Ewan’s chamber opened.
“Laird Ewan will see ye now.” The steward ushered her into the room.
The chamber was dark. She moved slowly, letting her eyes adjust, as well as gathering her thoughts. They seemed to flee the minute the chamber door opened.
Laird Ewan was sitting in his ceremonial chair, and Moira took in her surroundings.
Her kinsman looked intimidating dressed in his fine tunic, awaiting her.
“Greetings, Moira,” he said.
She let out a deep breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Greetings from Clan MacDougall of Gilmar.” She curtsied.
“Moira, why so formal? Aye, ye come here representing ye’er clan, and I appreciate yer respect, but when we’re alone, there is no need for such nonsense.” He patted the chair beside him.
The Pirate’s Redemption Page 9