Standing Stones

by Beth Camp

  “I want nothing to do with that pig,” said Moira. Her thoughts were as dark as she could remember. She felt as if she couldn’t move her arms, not even to shelter Jamie. “Never. And we’d go to America, all of us? What about Dylan? How would he ever find us? And me with a baby coming?”

  “If you sign the articles of indenture, they take you,” said Dougal. “Pregnant or not. But if we go, you'd leave Dylan behind.”

  “That I canna do,” said Moira.

  “Then I’m thinking of the Hudson’s Bay Company,” said Dougal. “They’re recruiting now. Their ships stop on the Mainland a little later in April. Colin and I could enlist and maybe send for you after we’re established.”

  “And what's for us in the meanwhile?” asked Moira. “Stay here and starve?”

  “Can't I come with you and Colin?” asked Jamie.

  Dougal looked at Moira and Jamie, huddled on the ground together, sheltered by the largest of the standing stones. “Ah, Jamie, you’re too young. But I’m not happy about you staying behind.”

  “We'll go to Inverness. There’s work there,” said Moira. “Jamie and I can stay together.”

  Colin stood as well. “Hudson's Bay? You really think they’ll take us?”

  “Aye, they’ll take the two of us,” said Dougal.

  The clouds had turned to gray. Dougal's head lifted as the wind turned from the east. “Best we enlist before we’re arrested ourselves for this or that.”

  Colin nodded.

  Moira turned her back to the wind. She looked around at the standing stones so near the headlands and the sea below. “You’ll see about Mac, when you go to Stromness?”

  “Aye. Colin and I will go over with Sean,” Dougal said. “The dory’s not big enough for all of us. I’m sorry.”

  “Dinna be sorry for me,” she said. “Send word as soon as you can.”

  “I’m truly to go with you tomorrow?” asked Colin.

  “We'll go to the Mainland in the morning.”

  The four stood quietly together, looking out at the islands that seemed to float on the sea, the standing stones sheltering them from the wind.

  “We’ll be leaving all this,” said Dougal.

  “Aye,” said Moira, holding Jamie’s hand. "We'll be leaving."

  CHAPTER 41: STROMNESS

  Mac smelled vomit. Instantly he was awake. Every muscle in his body hurt. He remembered being marched down the hill to Selkirk, their house burning, Colin on the ground, and Perkins. Those bastards. And now here, in this stink hole, a prison cell.

  Mac stood up. His head hurt as he tried to see around him in the gray light that came from one small barred window near the ceiling. Men lay everywhere on crude shelves and on the floor, huddled together for warmth. Mac could trace the smell of vomit to the man next to him.

  The man stirred, and Mac recoiled as the pungent smell of alcohol wafted towards him.

  “Here, mate. Give an old man a hand. Don’t let me lie in me own piss.”

  “They that smell least, smell best,” said Mac as he pulled the old man up.

  “Don't be babbling. Where’s the bucket. I don’t have me morning eyes yet.”

  A wooden slops bucket had been left near the barred door. "There,” Mac pointed.

  The old man shambled over to the bucket.

  Mac averted his eyes and studied the stones on the wall, pockmarked with scratches. A cold draft came through bars that ran from floor to ceiling along one wall. “Where are we?” he asked as the old man returned.

  “Ah, first time then?” The old man pulled his gray hair into a pony tail. “We're in Stromness, and you’re in jail.” He laughed a hearty laugh from his belly. “I’m Pete. They brought me in late last night. All I did was hit the bastard for taking me shore money. Then we all started fighting.” Pete cleaned his teeth with his tongue and looked around the cell as if with new eyes. “Not so crowded as it was me first time.”

  “You been here before?”

  “Aye. Last week when we landed. I’m cook’s helper on the Brilliant. We’re due to go to New South Wales in three months. Stopped here for crew. And who are you? I didn’t hit you last night, did I?”

  Mac laughed. The man barely came to his shoulders and had a banty swagger to his walk. Mac figured that came with hugging the deck of a ship. “I’m just a fisherman who got in trouble. The landlord's men evicted us, and I fought them. I’m in the devil’s place now.” He touched the bruises on his face. “How bad am I beat up?”

  “They worked you over pretty good. Anything broken?”

  “I don’t think so. My arm went funny, but then it popped back.” He winced as he touched another bruise. “You’ve been here before. What’s next?”

  “They’ll fine us or put us in stocks. Maybe both. We'll be out of here by mid-morning if the first mate comes down.” He peeled a scab off his hand. “But you, I don't know.”

  “God rot their souls.”

  “Hush. Talk like that gets you in trouble.” Pete glanced at the men sleeping on the floor. “Maybe I can get you out with us. I hear good things about Orkneymen.”

  Mac felt hope for a moment. He didn’t want to stay in this pigpen of a jail. How good it would be to simply sail away to anywhere, a new start with no landlord pushing and pushing at him. His stomach twisted as he thought of his family and Deidre. Ah, Deidre. What was the point? “Thanks. But it’s not going to happen. They’re holding me over for a trial. I won’t forget you offered.”

  “We got many a man on board that way.”

  “I don’t think it’ll work.” Mac settled back against the wall. Pete joined him. Together they watched the other men wake up as the cell lightened. Mac wondered how long it would be before he saw someone he knew.

  CHAPTER 42: SCOTT'S MERCANTILE

  Moira caught her shawl over her head. A light rain glistened on the stone cobbled streets of Selkirk as she walked to Scott’s Mercantile. She found Deidre packing wool for shipment off island.

  “This is lovely. Who made it?” asked Moira.

  “Good morning.” Deidre stopped working to give Moira a hug. She fanned her hand over a tightly woven length of gray wool. “This cloth came from the new sheep. You know Ronald McFadden, his wife and sisters? My father brought two looms all the way from Glasgow to get them started. They’ll more than pay him back with these.” She folded the woolens into a large wooden barrel, pushing them down tightly. “I saw Colin here earlier.”

  “Colin’s been sleeping here, in the storeroom until he leaves.” Moira began folding the woolens with Deidre. “Your father has been good to us.”

  “It’s because of Mac. He likes Mac. Any news?”

  “That’s why I came. I feel funny. Here we are talking away, and this morning, they decide. Dougal said he’s coming here after, if he can.”

  “Mac’s trial is today?” asked Deidre.

  Moira gave her a small smile. “It’s easier waiting if I’m here with you.”

  The next few hours passed slowly. They folded the woolens. Colin moved a few heavy crates inside the store. Moira winced as Colin split the crates open, and the wood screeched. Deidre and Moira unpacked each crate and restocked the shelves with tea, tin pails, and needles wrapped in felt. No one came into the store.

  Finally, Mr. Scott called from the front porch, “Someone here to see you, Deidre.”

  “Come on, Moira. It must be Dougal.” Deidre rushed out of the store, Colin and Moira scrambling behind her.

  Mr. Scott clapped Dougal on the back. “Go on around to the back. You’ll have a bit of privacy there.”

  “What news?” said Deidre. “Tell us.”

  “You might as well know, Mr. Scott. The trial went better than we hoped,” said Dougal. “It's over. He’s to be transported to New South Wales.”

  “He’s not coming home?” cried Moira.

  “Did you see him?” Colin's voice ended on an awkward squawk.

  Deidre swayed. “Is he all right?”

  “Steady, daughte
r,” said Mr. Scott. “’Tis still good news.” Down the street, a group of guards walked toward the store. “Go around the back now. I’ll cover the store.” He stopped at the top of the front porch and waited for the guards.

  “Were you able to talk to him?” asked Deidre.

  Dougal followed the two women along the path at the side of Scott’s Mercantile, around to the back garden. “Give me a minute.” Dougal sat on a rough bench by the garden shed. “The court was crowded, every table full, every seat taken. I couldn’t get close to the front, but I saw him.”

  “Tell us everything,” said Moira, grabbing Dougal’s hand.

  “The judges were harsh to all, but they didn't sentence him to death.” Dougal looked out over the garden. “Their verdict is final.”

  “There’s nothing we can do?” asked Moira. “You’re sure, Dougal?”

  “The court was crammed with over a hundred cases. People crying out. Most were transported. A few were condemned to death. We’re lucky they didn’t hang him.”

  Dougal’s words hung in the air for a moment.

  “Aye, we’re lucky then,” said Moira.

  “He’ll be held at the Stromness jail a few more days. Then he'll be sent down to London and held there again to wait transport to Van Diemen’s Land.” Dougal looked at Colin and the two women. “If we’re truly lucky, they won't come after any of the rest of us.”

  Deidre sank onto the bench beside Dougal. She fiddled with the watch pinned at her waist. “None of this can be changed?”

  “I’m sorry, Deidre. I wish I had better news.”

  “Can we see him before he goes?” asked Deidre.

  “I’d like to get something to him, maybe some food or clothes,” said Dougal. “I’m not sure how.”

  “Deidre,” called Anne, coming to the back door. “I need you inside.”

  “We should be going.” Dougal stood. “Deidre, can you come by later?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Anne, her voice grating.

  “Just a few more minutes, Mother.”

  “Dinna put us all at risk, then. Remember your sisters. Remember your father.”

  “I know, Mother. Leave us.”

  Anne turned away from the door, her straight back an accusation.

  “I’m sorry,” said Deidre. “All this has unsettled her. I had hoped for better news about Mac. Can we go over to Stromness? Tomorrow?”

  “Maybe,” said Dougal. “I wasn’t able to see him before. Just at the hearing. I could bribe someone. We can try.”

  “I have a little money,” said Deidre. “My own money.”

  Dougal was silent a moment, thinking. “Aye, I’ll take you over tomorrow morning. We’ll try to see him and come back the same day. Can you get away early?”

  Deidre nodded. A little sun flickered on her face as she turned back to the house. “I’ll come down to Sean’s after supper.”

  Moira held Dougal’s arm. Overhead, a single gull followed them as they made their way down on the beach.

  “Have you heard anything at all from Dylan?” asked Dougal.

  “The last I heard, he was looking for work in Inverness.” Moira looked at Dougal. “I’m still not sure whether to go or to stay. There’s not enough food at Sean and Lenore's. I’m not finding work, just dribs and drabs. A morning or two at Mrs. MacLean's.”

  “It’s not going to get better,” said Dougal. “The thing is we don’t know what Lord Gordon will do next. It’s a hard thing to say, but perhaps Mac being gone will help. There’ll be no more protests up at Westness.”

  “What does that matter? I'm not working up there.” Moira stared at the fishing boats coming in on the evening tide.

  “We’ve signed on with the Hudson’s Bay Company, me and Colin.”

  “You’re leaving then? Off the island?”

  Dougal nodded.

  “Did you ask about Jamie?”

  Dougal shrugged. “The Hudson’s Bay Company canna take him.”

  Moira sat down on a large rock and rested her hand on her stomach. “What about Catriona? I thought that you and she would marry. Ah, that sounds silly to say now.”

  “I’ll send for Catriona when I can. Tis the only way. The company sets aside two cabins for families, but they’re already taken up by the officers.” Dougal turned away. His face was set. “She won’t be happy about this. Can you go up to Quernshead and ask her to come to Sean’s tonight? I'm over to Pastor McPherson's to make arrangements.”

  “Aye,” said Moira. “When does your ship leave?”

  “By week’s end. They only put in here twice a year. I know what you’re thinking, Moira,” said Dougal. “But there doesn’t seem to be any other way. I don’t like leaving you and Jamie, and I don't like leaving Cat. I’ll send money as soon as I can.”

  “How will you know where we’ll be?”

  “God willing, if you’ll both be in Inverness, Pastor McPherson’s brother is there. I can write you in care of him. If you're here on Foulksay, I'll send it care of Mr. Scott. You have to decide before we leave.”

  Moira looked at her hands. “By Saturday you said?”

  “I dinna like leaving any more than you,” said Dougal. “Are you all right?”

  “We’ll manage, Jamie and I, and the little one to come. For certain it is we can’t stay here. Colin’s truly going with you?”

  “Aye, and he’s glad to go. For him, it’s a grand adventure.”

  “I never thought to see my own brothers scattered so far.” For a moment, Moira couldn’t speak. “You’ll be in Canada, and Mac, I can only thank God he’s to go to Van Diemen’s Land, for ‘tis better than hanging.”

  They were both quiet. Dougal held his sister’s hand. They watched the clouds fill the sky in the west and the gulls fly low behind the fishing boats coming in.

  Moira thought of all her days on the island, the cool mornings with the fog lifting from the sea, her brothers coming in after a day of fishing, the smell of the sea in their hair and on their clothes, even the long walk to Westness over the hills and along the moor, and then coming home at night, with her brothers to meet her. She thought of the island, always the island, its rugged dark sandstone cliffs that she loved, and the standing stones, a mark of other people who had come and gone. Now their cottage, once home, was reduced to stones.

  “I wish things could be other than they are.” Moira brushed the sand from her skirts.

  “I know,” said Dougal. “It’s like the music. Sometimes you play for others, sometimes you play for yourself. But you always have the music here.” He held his hand over his heart. “Some things you don’t forget.” Dougal looked at his sister. “You should have told Dylan about the baby.”

  “I know,” Moira replied. “All right. Jamie and I, we'll go to Inverness.”

  CHAPTER 43: CATRIONA

  Moira paced outside one of the shelters at Quernshead. She shivered as the afternoon wind bit into her shawl. Several children played close to the fire where the women had gathered to cook seaweed soup in a large communal pot. Far below, the sea looked gray, and white capped waves followed one after another.

  “You said they took both of them? Dougal and Colin?” asked Catriona, emerging from inside the shelter, a small knife and the onions Moira had brought in her hand.

  “Yes,” said Moira. “The Hudson’s Bay signed them up yesterday. He sent me to ask you to come to Sean’s tonight. Can you come?”

  “He’s really going?”

  “Aye,” replied Moira.

  “It’s been hard here.” Catriona grimaced. “Perkins still comes around, threatening us all with arrests. Mother's some better. They've decided to emigrate to Virginia, and they want me to go with them. I dinna know what to do.”

  “It’s Dougal, isn’t it,” said Moira.

  “I would leave my family for him.”

  Moira was silent.

  “What? He can’t take me with him? Is that it?”

  “He wants to tell you himself
.” Moira sighed. “The agent said only officers can bring their wives. Even that’s rare, according to Dougal.”

  Catriona looked at her hands. “I can work as hard as any man. Why can’t they take me?”

  “Dougal said they’re recruiting boys a little older than Jamie. That's why Jamie’s staying with me. They’ve had the posters up for months. With the ship coming, they’re really pushing right now.” Moira smoothed the skirt on her belly. “I wish I had gone with Dylan.”

  The two women looked at each other. “What if I looked like a man?” said Catriona.

  “You?” Moira looked at Cat’s red hair and her heart-shaped face. “You can’t.”

  “I think I can.” Catriona thought for a moment. “Let’s meet by the standing stones, just after the sun goes down. Bring me a cap. I think I’ll have a surprise for Dougal tonight.” She grinned. “Now, come with me and visit for a bit.” She nodded at the group of women at the fire. “They’ll be glad of these,” she said, shaking the onions. “They'll go right in the pot.”

  “I wish I had more to bring,” said Moira.

  The women at the fire pit on the bluff took the onions with many expressions of gratitude, and then a silence fell.

  “Dougal wanted me to ask how many of you are planning to emigrate,” said Moira, as she looked around the group of women gathered at the fire.

  “Not me and not ours,” said Agnes MacGill, a black mass of hair piled on her head. She stirred the large pot of soup that rested directly on a smoking peat fire. “We’re going to Glasgow as soon as we have the travel money from me sister.”

  “We’re going, and we know of seven other families who’ve signed up,” said Granny Lyttle, pushing white hair off her brow. “Us and all the children. It’s not like we can stay.”

  “No sense looking back,” said Catherine. “There’s them that can go, and some will stay.”

  “It’s been hard times without Mac,” said Granny. “Some of the men went off to the mainland, and we’ve heard nothing of them, not a word.”