by Tommie Lyn
Latharn nodded tentatively, unsure how to respond.
“There’s an important matter I have to speak to you about,” Ualraig continued. “Please, be seated.”
They sat on velvet-covered chairs which flanked a rich mahogany side table. Ualraig settled himself comfortably while Latharn perched nervously on the edge of his seat.
“Some matters have come to my attention that we need to discuss. I’ve heard some upsetting rumors about you. But I wanted to speak to you about them, not just rely on hearsay. However, I fear, from your appearance, there may be some truth to the rumors.”
“Wh-what rumors?” Latharn stuttered, an uncharacteristic timidity impeding his words.
“That you spend your time in a drunken daze instead of attending to your responsibilities,” Ualraig said. “You haven’t paid the rent on the farm, either. I won’t tolerate that kind of neglectful behavior in my tacksmen.”
“I…but…well—” Latharn began.
“Please. Don’t bother to lie. I can see for myself. Look at your hands, how they shake. And if you could see yourself, how unkempt you look…your bloodshot eyes. No, don’t even bother to lie to me.”
Latharn ducked his head in shame, turned his eyes to the opulent woven rug beneath his feet, away from Ualraig’s piercing stare.
“I warned you. I told you if you didn’t stop this behavior and conduct yourself as befits your rank I’d relieve you of your position. My warning seems to have been wasted. So, I’m reclaiming your tack.”
Latharn’s head jerked up. “But…but what am I to do? How am I to live without my tack?”
“You will have to see to that yourself.”
“But who will manage the farm?”
“I’m offering your tack to your cousin Suibhne. He’s next in line.”
“But—”
Ualraig Cambeul stood, signifying that the interview was over. “Suibhne will be moving into the house next week. Be sure to have your belongings removed by then.”
He turned on his heel and walked out.
Latharn was stunned. Where could he go? What could he do? He walked outside, trying desperately to think of something he could do to get back into Ualraig’s good graces, something he could do to discredit Suibhne and regain his position.
He took the reins of his horse from a servant, and the man said, “I hear one can make his way in the colonies.”
Latharn scowled. Even the lowest of the servants knew about his disgrace. He mounted his horse and rode to his house.
____________
By February, the Highlanders had cleared all the additional acreage Mr. Hollingsworth intended to plant and James started them building earthen berms around the newly cleared fields and digging drainage ditches. Mr. Hollingsworth came to appraise the results of their work.
“You’ve done very well, James,” he said as he and James stood on the guard’s platform surveying the fields.
“Thank you, sir,” James said, a proud smile on his lips.
“I didn’t expect to have half this much cleared by now. Yes, you’ve done very well indeed,” the planter went on. “I think I can arrange for you to have a reward for your hard work.”
“Thank you, sir,” James said, wondering what the reward might be. He started to speculate about it, then decided that was not a good idea. He might set his expectations too high and be disappointed. Better to wait and see.
Mr. Hollingsworth watched two Highlanders as they worked to lengthen a side ditch to join the main center trench that stretched through the field toward the river.
“These Scotsmen are good workers. Better than I expected. Maybe my gamble has paid off, and I didn’t waste my money after all,” he said. “But…do they always sing like this?”
“They do when they working,” James said.
“I don’t understand the words, but the tune is rather pleasant,” Hadley said, and hummed a few notes. “I suppose they must be happy people, to sing like that.”
“I don’t know, sir.” James reached up to scratch his head. His eyes took on a thoughtful expression as he regarded the two Highlanders. “I never seen none of ’em smile. Never heard none of ’em laugh.”
“Well, I guess the saying must be true, then, that Scots are dour people,” Mr. Hollingsworth said. “Will this field be ready by planting time, do you think?”
James thought for a moment. “Probably.”
“Next week I’ll send the crew to install the trunk. Surely they’ll have the drainage ditches completed by then.”
____________
Latharn walked through his childhood home one last time, recalling the happy times he’d spent in the only home he’d ever known.
There, by the window which overlooked the garden, that was where his father sat and drank his morning tea when Latharn was a tiny boy, sitting on his father’s knee. He looked out the window to the garden, where his father had given him his first pony.
Each step through his home, each view of the now-empty rooms, brought a fresh rush of memories. He’d once enjoyed recalling those past times, but the impending loss of his home made them painful now. And his home, his remembrances of his beloved father and his mother, all this was being taken from him because of Ailean MacLachlainn.
Latharn had thought he hated MacLachlainn before, but those feelings paled beside the torrent of loathing and fury that coursed through him, pushing all other ideas and sensations from him. His head throbbed and his throat constricted, choked him, ached from holding back a scream.
After the first churning waves of outrage pounded forth from the nurtured knot of hatred for Ailean MacLachlainn, spent themselves and left him trembling, there remained the desire, the need, the compulsion to wreak vengeance. MacLachlainn ruined his life, had taken away the only woman Latharn ever loved, had caused him to lose his home, his livelihood, his position of respect in the clan, everything that mattered to him. His life was over, like Mùirne’s, ended by MacLachlainn.
Latharn’s one thought was, He has to pay.
He had sold his cattle, his furniture, books and most of his clothing. Latharn packed the few things he had left and departed the house before Suibhne arrived to take possession of it. He didn’t get as much money as he had expected, but he knew it would be more than enough for passage to the colonies.
Latharn didn’t realize until that moment he had already decided to go to the colonies to find MacLachlainn and exact retribution for all he had suffered because of the man. When MacLachlainn was dead, Latharn could begin to live again. And maybe he could forget Mùirne.
He clenched his teeth as an exquisite torture of guilt stabbed him, twisted like a knife in his entrails.
His next thought was, I need a drink.
____________
Latharn remembered the name of the ship on which MacLachlainn and the other prisoners had been transported, and he was certain this was the vessel. He strode across the wharf to the gangway but was stopped by a guard before he could walk on board.
He demanded to speak to the captain. Latharn’s commanding presence and forceful demeanor made him appear to be an important person. The guard acquiesced and told Latharn to wait. He went to the upper level of the ship and returned, accompanied by a man in uniform.
“You wish to speak to Captain Hawsey?” the man asked Latharn.
“Aye.”
“He isn’t available at present. Please tell me your business. Perhaps I can be of assistance.”
“And who are you?”
Mr. Jones visibly bristled, drew himself to his full height and answered, “I’m First Mate Jones.”
“Maybe you can help me,” Latharn said. “I want to know what happened to the prisoners who were taken from Inveraray, Argyllshire, on this ship two years ago. Where were they taken?”
“Perhaps the captain can help you. I certainly cannot. I only came aboard last spring.”
“When can I see the captain?”
“He is away from the ship conducting business at t
he moment.”
“I have to speak to him!”
“Perhaps he can see you when he returns this afternoon. We will be sailing on the tide tomorrow. If your query is important, I suggest you see him before we depart,” said Mr. Jones. He turned away without further comment and returned to the upper deck, leaving Latharn standing on the gangway.
By the time he met Captain Hawsey, Latharn was agitated beyond measure, but he tried to remain polite as he requested the information.
“Of course, I remember where they were taken. How could I forget!” Captain Hawsey said. “That was the worst voyage I ever made, the stench, the—”
“Where did you take them?”
“I sold them, the ones who were left, to some plantation owners in George Town, South Carolina, in the colonies.”
“The ones who were left?”
“Unfortunately, sickness took most of them. I made almost no profit that voyage. Last time I’ll ever agree to transport human cargo.”
“Some died?”
“Yes. A great many died. No great loss, of course, losing men like—”
“Do you know their names? Do you know the names of the ones who lived?”
“I didn’t keep track of those who died, but…yes, I think I do have the names of those who lived. They’re in my log for that voyage. The first mate wrote them down, made a list of them when he made out the bills of sale.”
“I need you to check it to see if the name ‘Ailean MacLachlainn’ is on the list.”
“I’m very busy. But if you would care to reimburse me for my first mate’s time, I could have him look at the list.”
“Aye, I will,” said Latharn, and he reached unconsciously for his sporan before he remembered that he was wearing Lowlander triubhas. Since the uprising, the king had prohibited the wearing of all Highland dress, and he could no longer wear a féileadh-mòr. He reached into his coat pocket and extracted a coin from the small pouch he kept there.
“Mr. Jones!” shouted Captain Hawsey.
When the first mate appeared, the captain instructed him to search through the prior voyage log book for a list of the prisoner bills of sale. He was to search for the name Ailean MacLachlainn.
“You can wait here or you can return later this evening. He will certainly have found it by then,” Captain Hawsey said to Latharn. “If it’s there.”
Latharn’s return to the ship that evening was fruitful. He left the wharf with the name of the plantation owner who had purchased Ailean MacLachlainn burned into his memory: Hadley Hollingsworth.
THIRTY-FOUR
The Oaks Plantation, South Carolina, April, 1749
“McLachlan? I don’t know. I really haven’t had any contact with that group of men since I bought them. The overseers and managers deal with the field hands.”
“Captain Hawsey told me you’re the man who bought him, so he must be here,” Latharn said.
“That may not be correct. You see, one of them died and one ran away. He may have been one of those.”
“This man is very tall. And he has reddish brown hair. Surely you remember.”
“Mr.…Campbell, did you say? Yes? Well, Mr. Campbell, I have almost two hundred workers and their families living on this plantation. Unless someone is in a management position or works here in the house, I don’t get to know them personally. And I hardly think any of those men would have the intelligence to be a manager.” Hadley Hollingsworth shook his head and laughed. “And I certainly would not allow a barbarian like one of those Highlanders into my home.”
“But—” Latharn began, trying to hold his temper in check. To have come this far, and then be thwarted. It was not to be borne.
“Let me send for James. He’ll know. He manages those men. Please, won’t you have a seat and join me for some refreshments while we wait?”
Latharn had no choice. He assented and sat on the proffered chair, and Hollingsworth left the room to arrange for James to be summoned and to order refreshments for his uninvited guest. When he returned, he engaged Latharn in polite conversation as they awaited James’ arrival. Finally, Latharn could bear it no longer.
“As I said earlier, I know Ailean MacLachlainn is here on your plantation,” Latharn said. “I’d like to buy him from you.”
His host frowned slightly. “Buy him? Why would you want to buy someone like him? Granted, those men are strong, stronger than you’d expect, from their appearance. But I don’t trust them. I still keep an armed man on guard duty when they are not locked in the barracks.”
“Ah, well, I—” Latharn began.
“By the way, where is your plantation located? I don’t believe I heard you say.”
They were interrupted by James’ arrival, much to Latharn’s relief.
“James, this is Mr. Campbell. He wants to know if we have a…” He turned to Latharn. “What did you say his name was?”
“Ailean MacLachlainn.”
“Yes. He wants to know if we have an Alan McLachlan in the group of Highland men we bought.”
“I believe that’s the name of one of them, sir.”
“Mr. Campbell wants to buy him.”
“I expect he do. Alan be the hardest worker in that bunch. He strong and—”
“I’ll pay whatever you ask for him. I’ll pay you twice what you paid for him,” Latharn interrupted.
Hollingsworth chuckled. “Indeed, you’ll pay more than twice, if I decide to sell him. They were half-starved when they came here, and I had to bear the cost of feeding them for quite a while before they became able to work efficiently.”
“Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it.”
____________
Hollingsworth looked at his guest with misgiving. No one bought slaves without knowing their condition. Campbell’s insistence on buying a slave he hadn’t seen and whose condition he didn’t know roused Hollingsworth’s suspicions.
“We may not even have the man you want. There were other planters who bought men off that ship.”
“I’m sure you have MacLachlainn.”
Hadley turned to James. “Take Mr. Campbell to see the Highland men.”
He watched from the parlor window as Latharn followed James across the lawn toward the fields. He didn’t want the man coming back into his house again. Underneath the charm and politeness, Hadley sensed something strange about him, something ominous. He didn’t want any dealings with this man, business or otherwise. He decided he would not sell a slave to Latharn Campbell under any circumstances.
Hadley shuddered.
____________
Ruairidh rested his hoe on the ground, leaned on it for a moment, and straightened to relieve his stiff back. He surveyed the field to see how far they had progressed and caught sight of Latharn Cambeul following James into the field. He stared for a moment.
“I don’t believe it. Ailean, it’s Latharn Cambeul. Look!”
Ailean raised his head and looked in the direction Ruairidh pointed. It was indeed Latharn.
Latharn spotted Ailean and cut straight across the plowed rows toward him, followed by James. He stopped several feet away.
“So, you are here. Just as I thought,” Latharn said in Gaelic.
Ailean made no reply, but his breaths became rapid and shallow. His fists clenched and unclenched, and his jaw tightened.
“Hold your temper,” Ruairidh warned Ailean. “Remember, the guard has a gun.”
“I don’t care,” Ailean said to Ruairidh. He raised a hand and pointed at Latharn. “You are a murderer. You killed my Mùirne. You deserve to die.”
He took a step toward Latharn, and Ruairidh moved to block him. He wrapped his arms around Ailean, tried to push him backward. “Stop! Think about what you’re doing.”
“But, I’ve got to—”
“You’ve got to stay alive. Getting shot by the guard won’t accomplish anything.”
“Alan,” James said. “What you doing? What’s all this about?”
Ailean stopped struggling as Ruairidh’s
and James’ words penetrated his seething anger. The guard yelled, and Ruairidh dropped his arms to his side. “You see, he’s watching us.”
He took a step back from Ailean and picked up a hoe. The guard shouted again.
“It’s all right.” James called out to the guard. “Nothing to worry about.” He turned to Ailean. “Get your hoe and get back to work. Don’t give him a reason to shoot at you.”
Ailean stood and glared at Latharn, his chest heaving with conflicting emotions. He wanted to wring the life from Latharn’s body with his bare hands, as the lead ball from Latharn’s pistol had drained the life from Mùirne’s body.
But a voice of reason within penetrated his anger and controlled his urge to kill. It told him the guard’s musket ball would snuff out his own life before he could end Latharn’s. He leaned over and retrieved his hoe.
“Still arrogant, I see,” Latharn hissed as he backed away. “But you won’t be arrogant much longer. You won’t be anything much longer. You’ll soon be leaving this earth.”
Ruairidh stopped hoeing and turned to Latharn.”What makes you say that?”
“He needs to die. When he’s dead, I can begin to live again,” Latharn said. He turned and left the field.
James gave Ailean a puzzled look. “Wish I could understand that jabber you talk so I’d know what just happened.” He shook his head and followed Latharn.
Ailean watched them walk away. He swallowed, tried to push the memories Latharn had revived back into the deep recesses of his heart where he’d buried them.
____________
Hadley met Latharn and James on the porch when they returned from the fields. He didn’t want Latharn to enter the house.
“That’s the man. How much?” Latharn asked.
“I’ll have to go over the accounts,” Hadley said. “And I still haven’t decided if I’ll sell him. Once I’ve thought it over, I’ll send word to let you know. Where can I reach you?”