‘To gaol, of course. Where else d’you think prisoners end up?’ The fellow sounded very cheerful and if she’d had full use of her limbs, Marsaili reckoned she would have tried to throttle him. As it was, she found her hands well trussed too, so there was no hope of her doing anything of the sort.
‘I don’t understand what it is I’m supposed to have done,’ she complained. ‘Surely you can’t go around arresting people for no reason.’
‘The cap’n has a warrant says you’re a suspected Jacobite,’ the soldier informed her. ‘You’ll have to prove otherwise, but it might take weeks before your case is ’eard. Meanwhile, you’ll enjoy a spell in ’is Majesty’s finest accommodation.’ He chuckled and Marsaili had to grit her teeth to stop from saying something very unladylike.
‘How come you were given the honour of my company?’ she asked sarcastically. She saw several lascivious glances coming her way from the men in front of and beside them, but this one seemed unmoved by her nearness. Thank the Lord for small mercies!
‘’Cause I’m the only one the cap’n can trust with a woman on account of the fact I don’t like ’em. I’ll keep you safe for ’im.’
‘What?’ Marsaili didn’t understand at first, but then something scandalous she’d once heard about men who preferred the company of young boys surfaced in her brain. She felt her cheeks turn scarlet. ‘Oh.’
‘Precisely.’
Marsaili drew in a deep breath and hoped the colour in her face was subsiding. She decided to change the subject and looking around her, she suddenly realised they weren’t riding along the English road, as she’d expected, but a narrow Highland track. ‘So we’re going to Fort George then? Or one of the others, Fort William maybe?’ She suppressed a shiver. She’d heard many a tale about what could happen to anyone taken there.
‘No.’
‘Where then?’ She was surprised at his answer.
‘You’ll see soon enough. Now cease your prattle. I’m not s’posed to talk to you at all.’
Marsaili decided there was no point prolonging the conversation in any case. Besides, she felt nauseous from a severe headache and the motion of the horse. Swallowing hard she concentrated on keeping the contents of her stomach where they were.
‘Ouch, my head! What the hell happened?’
The voice that came out of the darkness, accompanied by a groan, was unmistakeably Ramsay’s. Brice felt him move and heard another muffled protest as he obviously bumped into Alex.
‘You were knocked out,’ Brice said. ‘Again.’
‘Fan också,’ Ramsay swore in Swedish. He sounded very aggrieved and who could blame him? If Brice’s head was sore, his uncle’s had to be twice as bad.
‘I agree,’ came Alex’s voice. ‘But where are we?’
‘Can’t you smell it?’ Brice asked. ‘Salt water. We’re on a ship, bound for the Lord only knows where.’ He tried to tamp down on the vexation that was threatening to choke him. It wouldn’t do any good to bemoan his fate. He needed to keep his wits about him. ‘The bad news is we’re being sent to the colonies, presumably as indentured servants.’
‘What?’
‘No! That means we’ll be gone for years, if not …’ Brice could almost hear Ramsay’s thought process as the enormity of the situation hit him. ‘Ida! I must get back to her. What will she think? I …’
‘Wait, calm down.’ Brice lowered his voice, in case anyone was listening to them. ‘The good news is that I heard our captors talking about us having to change ships somewhere in order to get there. That means this is a smaller vessel, not an ocean-going one, so it will have to put in to port somewhere for us to be transferred. When that happens, we have to be ready.’
‘What do you mean, ready? Oww, my skull …’
‘Never mind your skull, Ramsay, it’s as thick as granite.’ Brice didn’t know how much time they had to hatch a plan, and therefore there was no room for sympathy at the moment.
‘Insensitive beast,’ Ramsay muttered.
‘I know, but listen, we need to find something in here to cut our bonds with. If we could free ourselves, we can try to overpower whoever comes to fetch us. Help me search. There must be something sharp.’
‘And how do you suggest we do that?’ Ramsay’s voice was sarcastic. ‘I don’t know about you, but my hands are tied behind my back. Or at least I think they are, there’s no feeling in them so I can’t be sure.’
‘Oh, stop moaning. You should be able to get onto your knees, unless they’ve tied your legs? Mine are free. Then you can crawl around and feel behind you along the walls. Alex, are you with us? Can you help?’
‘I’ll try. Just promise to stop bickering, please. The slightest noise is like a nail through my brain.’
Ramsay muttered something under his breath, then he and Brice both fell silent, since their heads were just as painful. Brice managed to get onto his knees and began a slow exploration of the space they were in, presumably a part of the hold. It was damp and stank of brine, rotting substances and something dead. A rat perhaps. Brice tried not to breathe too deeply, although he was becoming used to the odours by now.
He found nothing useful at knee-level, so with some effort he succeeded in pushing himself upright by using the wall as leverage. As he made his way along the wall, he was becoming more and more despondent. The cabin or whatever it was seemed entirely empty. There was nothing they could use, not even a nail sticking out of the timbers.
In the next instant, however, his head connected with something and he saw stars. ‘Ow! What the …?’ He’d no doubt collected yet another bruise, this one to his forehead, but he reckoned it might just have been worth it. ‘I’ve got something,’ he hissed.
The other two stopped moving. ‘What?’ Ramsay asked.
‘I think it’s a lantern. Hold on, I’m going to try and knock it down with my head. If it has glass sides, it will shatter, and we should be able to use the shards to cut each other loose. If not, it may have sharp edges.’
‘You’ll make an awful racket. What if someone comes?’
‘It’s a risk we have to take. As soon as I’ve knocked it down, let’s all dive to the floor and try and grab a piece of glass. Hide it somewhere quickly, then even if they come and clear up the mess and search the cabin, we’ll still have one piece. Agreed?’
‘Fine. Do it.’ Alex’s voice was curt and still laced with pain.
Brice didn’t hesitate to put his plan in motion. Steeling himself against the impact, he head-butted the lantern from underneath, hoping it would come unhooked from whatever it hung on. Luck was with him and it did, crashing to the floor in an explosion of sound.
Immediately, he crouched down and felt behind him on the floor for some glass. He secured a large shard and scuttled over to the nearest wall where he pushed the glass in between two planks, leaving just a tiny bit sticking out. He hoped the other two men were doing the same. Then they waited for someone to come and investigate what they were up to.
No one came.
Brice sighed with relief. ‘Maybe they’re all busy sailing the ship?’ he speculated. ‘Or perhaps the wind is so loud up on deck they didn’t hear us? Either way, let’s get to work. Ramsay, come over here and I’ll start on your bonds.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
‘You’re sure Captain Sherringham isn’t here?’ Seton peered at the guard outside Fort William, frustration building up inside him. He didn’t know how to tell whether the man was speaking the truth or not.
‘Hasn’t been here for days. Now d’you want to see anyone else? Otherwise clear off, you’re blocking my view.’
‘Come on, Father, let’s go,’ Iain hissed and pulled on Seton’s sleeve.
‘Oh, very well.’ They walked off, away from the forbidding edifice which housed His Majesty’s troops, and Seton had to admit to a sense of relief. This wasn’t a place where he wanted to linger. ‘How do we know he wasn’t lying though? What if Sherringham is playing games with us?’
‘I doubt i
t,’ Iain said. ‘He told you what he wanted in the note, he just didn’t say where the laird should go. What other places could he take a prisoner?’
‘Don’t know. Let’s ask around.’
After engaging several locals in conversation, they came up with a likely destination.
‘Inveraray gaol,’ Seton said. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of it. They hold court sessions there too, so it would make sense. Although why he’d bother going all that way is beyond
me.’
‘It was probably to keep Marsaili as far away from Brice as possible,’ Iain speculated. ‘And throw him off the scent.’
‘Brice is it now?’ Seton groused, unaccountably annoyed at hearing his son talking about Kinross in such a familiar way. ‘Anyone’d think the two of you were the best of friends.’
‘He’s not so bad and besides, we’re kin now through marriage.’
‘To hell with that! He’s the enemy, as I keep telling you. The sooner you get that into your feeble mind, the better.’
Iain seemed about to protest, but Seton held up a hand. ‘Never mind now. We’d better go straight to Inveraray to check if Marsaili is there. No time to lose. A pox on that slippery whoreson, Sherringham!’
Iain said nothing, only followed his father back to where they’d left their ponies. There was no need for words, they both wanted the same thing – to find Marsaili – although Seton didn’t tell his son they may be after her for different reasons.
Time enough for that later.
They had taken turns to sleep for a while in order to try and rid themselves of their headaches and Brice felt much better for it. His ankle and his other cuts and bruises were healing too, apart from the ribs which would no doubt take a good few weeks. Either way, he was as ready for their escape attempt as he’d ever be.
He’d had a lot of time to think as well. Not just about Marsaili and the fact that he loved her, but also about his brother and the letter he’d sent. Brice shook his head in the darkness. I should have trusted him when he told me he was set up, he thought. Jamie would never willingly have hurt me. He was right, they’d always been the best of friends, there for each other. And unless Jamie’s personality had undergone a spectacular change during the time Brice was away, marriage had been the furthest thing from Jamie’s mind. He wouldn’t have wed Elisabet if she’d been the prettiest girl in the world. No, the entire episode had to have been Elisabet’s doing, somehow. Amazing how he could see this so clearly now, when he might never get the chance to tell his brother.
‘Idiot,’ he muttered. I have to let him know I understand. He came to a decision. If they managed to free themselves and escape the fate Seton had planned for them, he’d write to Jamie as soon as he could and invite him to come and stay at Rosyth. But not Elisabet, he’s probably ready to murder her by now! The thought made him smile ruefully. Yes, Jamie could probably do with a breathing space – being leg-shackled would be purgatory to someone as wild as him – and Brice needed to apologise for being so hasty.
Please God, give me that chance, he prayed.
There was so much more than revenge at stake here. They simply had to succeed.
‘I think we’ve come into a harbour,’ he whispered to the other two, after shaking them awake a little while later. ‘I can only feel the ship bobbing gently up and down, none of the roiling motion we had earlier. Do you agree?’
‘Yes, you’re right.’
There was also muffled shouting which could be heard up above them, and footsteps running, as well as the creaking of block and tackle.
‘We must be ready for them,’ Brice said. ‘Ramsay, you and Alex stand one either side of the door. Take off your coats and throw them over the head of whoever comes in first, then tackle them to the floor. I’ll stand opposite, ready to take on anyone else. If possible, we should try to keep the noise down as much as we can so as not to alert anyone to what’s happening.’
‘Good plan. Then what?’
‘We’ll have to improvise after that.’ Brice thought for a moment. ‘If we’re in a harbour, we could try rushing up on deck and just throwing ourselves into the water. We should be able to swim to safety before they react enough to lower a boat and go after us. You’re both strong swimmers, right?’
Ramsay and Alex agreed. ‘But if there aren’t too many people on deck, let’s take the dry route,’ Ramsay added. ‘No point getting drenched if we don’t have to. This is one of my best coats.’
Brice chuckled. Only Ramsay could make jokes at a time like this. He was glad to have his two friends with him. Without them, he doubted he’d have been able to break free. At least with three of them, they stood a fair chance. ‘Get into position then,’ he urged. ‘We must be ready to strike.’
Their plan went off without a hitch. Only two men came to fetch them and they were taken completely by surprise when they stepped inside the door. Brice grabbed the broken lantern and used it to knock the men out. Since they both had a coat over their heads, he didn’t think they would suffer any lasting effects, other than the kind of sore head he’d had himself.
‘You’d better not have got rust on this,’ Ramsay muttered, pushing his arms into the sleeves of his garment as they checked for any signs of life outside the door.
‘To hell with your coat! I’ll buy you an even better one.’ Brice grinned. ‘Now come on.’
He’d been right in thinking they were in a store room on the lower deck. A ladder led up to the next level and he peeked cautiously out of the hatch before climbing up completely. There was no one there, just a collection of hammocks slung from beams and a few sailors’ chests. Another shorter ladder flanked a larger hatch where moonlight filtered down from above.
‘Ah, it’s night time,’ Brice whispered. ‘I wasn’t sure. That helps though. Come on, we’ll have to be quick now so we surprise them.’
Repeating his earlier manoeuvre, he hesitated a fraction before launching himself out of the hatch and running across the deck. A gangplank led onto a large quay on the starboard side of the ship and he headed straight for it. There were four or five men, coiling ropes and making knots, while one who was dressed better than the others stood watching. Brice had to pass him, but by the time one of the sailors raised the alarm, he was already alongside the man. He saw the astonished expression on his face and the reflex action of reaching for a weapon, but the man didn’t have a chance to bring it out. Brice simply gave him an almighty shove, all the harder since he had momentum from running, and sent him flying over the side and into the water.
Pandemonium broke out, but most of the sailors didn’t know whether to rescue their captain, lean over the rail to look or tackle the escapees. Brice and the others didn’t hang around for them to make up their minds. They headed for the gangplank, fighting off two men who belatedly tried to stop them, and then ran off along the quay as fast as their legs would carry them, ignoring any shouts coming from behind.
Weaving in and out of various alleys, where drunken sailors and ladies of the night were carousing, they finally came to a halt in a particularly dark spot. Brice leaned against a house and tried to catch his breath. ‘We made it,’ he panted. ‘Tack gode Gud. But … where the hell … are we? I thought I heard Dutch, can that be right?’
‘Yes, Amster … dam,’ Ramsay replied, huffing and puffing even harder. ‘Recognised … the harbour. Been here … before.’
‘Damn! I didn’t think we’d gone as far as that. We need to find a ship to take us back to Scotland immediately, but we have no money. The MacGregors searched my pockets and took everything.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Wait.’ Ramsay took a while longer to get his breathing under control. ‘I know some merchants here. I came with Killian once, trading. If we could find them, I think I can persuade them to lend us some money. We’ll have to wait for daylight though. We need a place to hide till then.’
‘How about a warehouse?’ Alex had been quiet up until that point, but now joined the conversation. ‘If we find a big one, I
should be able to pick the lock quite easily and we could hide behind whatever is in there. No one will think to look for us in a place like that, surely?’
‘Good idea,’ Brice said. ‘But what will you use to pick the lock? You don’t have any of your usual tools.’
Alex laughed. ‘We’ll have to persuade one of the doxies to part with a hairpin or two. Shall we have a bet to see who can do it first? My money’s on you, Brice. The ladies like you, I’ve noticed.’
‘Cheeky son of a …’ But Brice couldn’t help but smile. It was wonderful to be free and at least they had a plan of sorts. He hoped it would work.
It must, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking of.
‘Welcome to Inveraray,’ the soldier Marsaili was with said cheerfully.
She looked about her. After more than three days of riding in the most uncomfortable way possible, and freezing cold nights huddled on the ground wrapped only in her arisaid, she was almost beyond caring where she ended up. But tired and sore though she was, she had to admit this was a beautiful place. Situated on the western side of Loch Fyne, which she’d been told led out to sea, the little town was mostly just a collection of humble cottages, with one or two larger houses. However, they had a most spectacular backdrop of glorious, forest-clad mountains, reflected in the mirror-still waters of the loch. On a day like this, when the skies were blue with only the odd fluffy cloud, it was utter perfection.
To one side of the town, there was building work going on and the soldier informed her the Duke of Argyll was in the process of rebuilding his castle there.
‘’E’s takin’ an awful long time about it, but no doubt it’ll be very grand when it’s finished,’ the man commented. Marsaili assumed he was right, a Duke would build only the finest of dwellings.
Soon she forgot all about the lovely sights as they progressed into the town. The soldier was in a chatty mood and told her, ‘This ’ere’s Front Street and we’re ’eadin’ for the Town House. That’s the court house to the likes o’ you, and that’s where the gaol is too, on the ground floor ’neath the court room. Look, there it is now.’
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