by Beth Camp
They walked in silence for a while, down along the beach and toward the point.
Deidre checked her watch, pinned at her waist. “It's time to get back. I’m meeting with Pastor McPherson tomorrow.”
“Again? What does he want sniffing around?”
“Mac, he’s the Pastor. I work with him. That’s all. You might notice that I’m walking out with you.”
“I noticed.” Mac took a swallow. “You know, you and me, Deidre, we should talk about getting married.”
“Now might not be the right time.” She looked at him, her eyes large in the twilight.
“Deidre, it never seems the right time.” He traced her cheek with his finger. “I know your parents don’t like me, but I will always take care of you.”
“Mac, there’s things you don’t know, and things I’m not ready to tell you.”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
“But I do. It’s too soon for us.”
Mac waited. He watched Deidre’s face fade in the twilight.
“Maybe someday,” said Deidre. “Maybe if Jamie goes off to school, and Dougal gets married and moves into his own house, and Moira’s settled some way, and Colin, well, I don’t know.” Her voice dwindled off.
“It sounds like never, Deidre,” Mac replied. “I’ll always have my family near me.”
“You could move into town. Da said the business will expand. He could use you in the store, better than Colin.”
“I’m a fisherman, Deidre. I’m not giving up the sea.” He found it hard to speak. “If I have to choose, I’m going to choose the sea.”
“Then let’s not talk of it just now. I’d never ask you to give up the sea, and I don’t want to stop seeing you, no matter what my mother says.”
“But I’m still a fisherman, Deidre.”
“I know.”
Mac passed by Mrs. MacLean's house on his way home. There on the porch sat Dylan, the end of his pipe flaring red in the night.
Mac stopped. “You want to talk?”
Dylan came down from the porch. “Aye. We can talk.”
The two men walked down Front Street and sat on two large stones near the water. Finally Dylan said, “Did the men decide?”
“That's tomorrow.”
“They'll do what you say.”
“Aye. I know. It's a cold night to know that.”
“Lord Gordon . . .”
“Don't talk to me of Lord Gordon.” Mac had a bad taste in his mouth. He looked up at the stars and the fast moving clouds over his head. “Tomorrow morning, we'll go out in the boats as we've always done. We do well enough. Why does he want us to change?”
“It doesn't matter why anymore. He's thinking of reprisals if the men don't rework the boats by Martinmas. ‘Tis worse than higher rents.”
Mac grunted.
“If only one of you could try it. Show the other fishermen.”
“It's giving in. He should just leave us alone.”
“You could be the first.”
“So Dougal says.”
Dylan was silent. The boats along the beach shone silver in the night, with a dog or two sleeping on the sand near the fishermen's huts. Here and there an oil lantern gleamed in a window. All was quiet.
“Ah, you’re right. I'm thinking someone should be the first.” Mac sighed. “It might as well be the Star. But I'm not saying I'll do it. I'm waiting 'till tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 20: WESTNESS
“You can’t all come in here.” Hargraves surveyed the small crowd of fishermen who’d followed Mac up the hill to Westness. The men stood in the yard by the back door. Late afternoon winds had picked up, pushing dark clouds from the southwest.
The fishermen shuffled a bit, looked at each other and then to Mac.
“You go in and speak for us,” said Gibson. “We’ll wait here.”
“Tell him we can’t just spend money like lords,” said Sean. “We’ve got families to feed.”
“You tell him, Mac.”
Hargraves blocked the doorway, his large body nearly filling the door. “Mac, you sure you want to do this?”
“Someone has to speak for us,” said Mac.
“Come in, then.”
Mac followed Hargraves up the winding stairs at Westness. His mouth turned down at the fine woodwork and rich carpet. Mac wished he could stop sweating.
Hargraves stopped at the library door.
“Sir, Mr. McDonnell to see you.”
Mac stepped forward into the large room, glancing at the rows of leather-bound books from floor to ceiling on each wall. The warmth from the fireplace made his coat steam. He hesitated at the edge of the Turkish medallion carpet with his mud-crusted shoes. Lord Gordon seemed smaller than he remembered, sitting in comfort, with a map of Foulksay Island spread out on the desk.
Lord Gordon closed the map. “Yes?”
“’Tis about the boats, sir. We canna’ afford to rebuild our boats just now.”
“McDonnell, is it? I’ve sent Perkins down with the plans and arranged to have the wood shipped here at my cost. I’ve brought over a good man for the retrofitting.”
“Yes, sir. But with the fees on the new pier, and the next quarter day just ahead and the higher rents, we don’t have enough money for the wood, sir.”
Lord Gordon rose and faced the windows. “The fishermen can use terms at Scott’s Mercantile to pay off the cost of the lumber over time. That should close the matter.”
“But how our boats are now, this is how we fish. As far back as we remember.”
“How many boats are lost each year?” Lord Gordon turned back to Mac, the wind rattling the windows behind him, his face nearly hidden in the back light.
“Depends on the storms, sir. Some years we lose one or two. In bad years, we lose more. We always lose men to the sea, sir.”
“If I told you that when men simply add a deck, as I have asked you to do, and as I have generously provided resources, that fewer lives are lost and more fish caught, would that speak to your fishermen?”
“They dinna want to do it, sir.” Mac shifted his feet. He wished he were outside, anywhere but in this warm room. “It’s hard enough to go out in the sea. They worry it’ll change how she handles in the open sea and if a storm comes up.”
Lord Gordon shook his head. “That’s no reason."
Mac was silent.
“So you came today, thinking I would simply let the fishermen do what they wish.”
“I was hopeful, sir, you would understand. We have families to feed, and ‘tis soon winter.”
“And if I didn’t, as you say, understand, what then?”
“We’ll try to rebuild the boats then. Some of us.”
“I want all of the boats retrofitted, as ordered.” Lord Gordon’s pale face gleamed in the firelight. “By no later than Martinmas. That gives you until November. Those who do not convert the boats by then will be fined.”
Mac felt sweat gather on his back. This man was not listening to him. “But we fish every day. If we stop to build, our families will go without. If we could postpone the building ‘till the weather turns and we canna’ go out?”
“And when winter comes, will I hear another story?” Lord Gordon looked out over the garden where the imported trees he’d had planted bent in the steady sea wind. “Tell them Martinmas. No later.”
A tap sounded at the library door. “Yes?” said Lord Gordon.
Lady Alice came hesitantly into the library. “You wished to see me?” she asked.
Mac stared. Lady Alice had the pale complexion of a woman who’d never worked outside. Her eyes were shadowed. She was wearing a sort of rose-colored dress, and her dark hair was twisted up in a knot.
Lady Alice floated past Mac; a faint smell of verbena lingered in the air.
“Out, McDonnell. We’re finished. You know what I want. See Perkins in the future.”
Mac took a last look at Lord Gordon and Lady Alice as he left, a sour taste in his mouth. So many rooms for
the two of them. What did they know of how the people lived or died? Or how much it took to pay the rents.
Mac’s stomach cramped as walked down the stairs and back out into the twilight, the cold wind nipping the warmth from his clothes and chilling his face.
The fishermen huddled together in the back yard behind Westness.
“He dinna’ listen, boys. We have ‘till Martinmas.”
“All of the boats?” asked Sean.
“All of them.” Mac pointed down the hill to Selkirk. “It's just as Dylan said. The lumber’s in at Scott’s. He says we have to arrange credit. If we don’t, there’ll be fines.”
“It won’t change anything. If we do or if we don’t,” said Robert. He turned away from the group and headed home, a little bent over to protect his face from the wind.
“I'm thinking I'll try it first,” The men clustered around Mac. “We'll see how she goes, and then you can decide what you want to do.”
The men nodded and made their way back down the winding road along the headlands. Mac, Dougal and Sean walked together as the sky darkened.
“‘Tis a thankless job you did today,” said Sean.
Mac shrugged. “I talked to Dylan last night. He'll help us, and we can show the rest, after we take the Star out.”
“Mayhap it’s not so difficult,” said Dougal. “If a few of us can make the change, the others will come along. He can’t penalize us if we’re making progress.”
“The man’s about making money,” said Mac. “He’ll find a way.”
CHAPTER 21: GORDON AND ALICE
Gordon stood by the window and stared at the workers in the garden. Damn McDonnell for stirring them up. “Don't hover, Alice. Sit down.”
Alice sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk and waited.
His cheeks reddened. “We won’t be going to Edinburgh for the winter."
“Oh, I was starting to close the house this afternoon. Of course, if that is what you wish.” Alice pressed her lips together. She noted the lines on Gordon’s face.
“Alice, I leave Sunday for London. I should return within two months, less if I can. If needed, Perkins and Hargraves will handle quarter day in November, and you’ll be here. I’m sorry, Alice. But it’s necessary."
“London?”
“To see Alexander. We need more capital. Alice, I should apologize. Certain investments haven’t come through. I’ve raised the rents here, but even for that, I must wait another few weeks.” Gordon shuffled some papers on his desk. “Bringing the estate profitable will take more than I anticipated.”
“Can I help? I have some money of my own.”
“Ah, Alice. We’re not talking about a few pounds here and there. I need several thousand.”
“I could ask Father for a loan.”
“I’ve already asked. He said no.”
“Then we won’t be going to Edinburgh before Christmas?”
“No. I suppose the move to Edinburgh would have helped you. I'm sorry.”
“There's nothing to be sorry about." Alice hesitated. "If anything, I’m sorry I failed you.”
“We both wanted the child. But that’s behind us now.” Gordon rearranged the papers on his desk. “I don’t want you worrying more than necessary. I’m still waiting for news about some investments. In the meantime, we’ll manage.”
For some reason Alice found herself thinking of the dinner with Kezia Hayter and Captain Ferguson of the Rajah. They must have reached Van Diemen’s Land by now. And those women, the prisoners on the boat. What were their lives like now? She felt as if Westness were a boat moving into a future she could not see.
Gordon came around the desk and held her hand. “Alice, be patient. We will come through this. Just be circumspect with household expenditures as much as you can.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I know I haven’t spent much time with you lately. The paperwork’s been fearsome, as has the news. But that must change now. For me, it’s enough that I know you are doing better.”
“The weather can’t be that much worse here than Edinburgh. I’ve only one project that requires any spending. I’d like to send one of the young boys over to school on the mainland.”
“The one that’s been following you all over the island?”
“Yes.” Alice smiled. “Jamie McDonnell. He’s a bright boy. He deserves a chance at an education, more than the Grammar School.”
“McDonnell? I know that name. No, we'll not be helping the McDonnells. God willing, one day we’ll have a lad of our own.” Gordon sat at his desk and picked up a letter.
“I could cover the cost from my allowance.”
“I would rather you not.” Gordon frowned at the letter.
“I see. Is there anything at all I can do?”
Gordon’s hands stilled. He turned to her, rolling his chair back slightly. “Do you imagine you could help?” He mused for a moment. “Perhaps. You understand if I tell you some things, you must keep them to yourself. No chattering to anyone else, not even Perkins?”
“Yes, Gordon. Of course.” Alice blinked. She couldn't imagine chattering to Perkins.
“Well, then.” Gordon set his papers aside. “You know my plans in general. I want this estate productive. To make a home for us and our children, not here on the island and not necessarily in Edinburgh. I want us to be in London, where our children will have a future.”
Alice nodded. “Yes. I know that.”
Gordon paced the length of the library and stood in front of her. “But the estate hasn’t generated income for many years. Alexander told me it would be a challenge, and it is. The people are set in their ways. Even small changes, they resist. Alice, I want to transform this land. I want to bring sheep here and build up trade.”
“But how can you have sheep and farming?”
“We will dispense with the farming.”
“What about the people?”
“They’ll have to go.”
“But winter's coming.”
“Yes, I know. The sheep must be established no later than the end of January.” He looked at Alice. “Before the spring lambs. It has to be.”
“Where will the people go?”
“I don’t care. Anywhere but here. They’re renters, after all. If they can’t pay the rents, they’ll be evicted.”
“Pastor McPherson tells me they’ve lived here all their lives. Surely we have a responsibility.”
“My responsibility is to us, to our family. I can't support people who don't work. I'd like to transport them all off the island, but it’s a terrible expense. Maybe Glasgow. They’ve new factories there. They could find work there.”
Gordon began pacing again. “There may be a way that doesn’t involve us making a great outlay. I’m looking into a plan that will take some of our people to the Americas, perhaps Newfoundland or Virginia. I'd have to arrange for the ships to pick them up, but when they sign papers of indenture, I'm reimbursed. You remember Captain Ferguson? He and Sutherland gave me the idea. It could mean a better life for all of them.”
Alice thought of the people she knew on the island. “This will be a tremendous change.”
“Alice, when the crops fail, they starve, and so do we. If I can make the land more productive, with sheep, with hunting, our income will grow. Those who are willing to work will benefit. If the fishermen rebuild their boats, they'll be fine. But the rest have to go. I will not tolerate any delay.” Gordon stopped in front of Alice. “Now I’ve confided in you, Alice. I expect you to respect my confidences.”
“I will." Alice sighed. "I’m not sure how I can help.”
“I would like you to work with Pastor McPherson. He’s our man, though sometimes his sermons don’t sound like it.”
“Pastor McPherson?”
“Yes. He knows the crofters best. He’ll know which families can stay and which families can best adapt to a new land. Talk to him. I’ll need a list on my return. Alice, don’t look at me that way.” He took her hand. “You make me feel I’m not
alone.”
“You’re never alone, Gordon. You have me.”
“This means a lot to me, Alice. Send Perkins in, will you?”
The wind fluttered in the curtains and rustled a few papers on Lord Gordon’s desk. Behind him, a white mist rose from the sea, low to the headlands.
Alice rose. “I’ll see to the packing for your trip. I shall miss you.”
For a moment, the study was still. Alice could hear house wrens start up under the eaves as the wind shifted.
CHAPTER 22: THE STORM
Late Saturday afternoon, Moira came home from Westness to an empty cottage. She opened a window to air the cottage out, washed up dishes, put clothing into the cupboard, and swept out the floor that looked as if it hadn’t been swept all week. Moira checked on her chickens. All flourished, pecking on the scraps she brought from Westness as if she had never been away. She laughed aloud. She was meeting Dylan tonight, this night, whether her brothers said yes or no.
Jamie came in with a half creel of oatmeal from Scott’s Mercantile, but Mac, Dougal and Colin didn’t return. The afternoon fog moved in along the coast and then darkened to dusk. Moira couldn’t sit still with her knitting. She kept getting up to look out the window. Where were they?
After dark, Mac, Colin, and Dougal entered with a rush, filling up the cottage with noise.
“Moira, you won’t believe what happened,” Colin burst out.
“They said the fish were running out past Quernshead,” added Mac.
Moira’s heart stopped. “Ah, no. That’s the one place you said you wouldn’t go.”
“We got caught in one of those whirlpools out there, just like they say, only worse,” said Dougal.
“Don’t be looking at us like that,” said Mac. “Aren’t we all here and fine and all?”
“So, like I was saying,” said Dougal. “We got caught out there in a terrible fog. And then the whirlpool got us.”
“You should have been there. Mac went over,” said Colin. “And that was before we got the biggest fish you’ve ever seen.”