Robbie Taggart

by Michael Phillips

  Robbie exhaled a deep sigh. “This is my life now,” he said, trying to force conviction into his tone that was not in his heart. But how could he muster any conviction when every word Pike had uttered was true? He didn’t feel like a man anymore. His life was no longer his to control. He had to grovel before a power-hungry commander who seemed bent on destroying any sense of worth he might possess. What did it mean to be a man if he had to take such abuse and was powerless to stand on his own two feet?

  “Ach! Ye dinna mean it, lad!” boomed Pike. “I ask ye again, what kind o’ a life is it?”

  “We need more ale!” declared Robbie, finally putting some urgency into his tone. He jumped to his feet and went in search of Lucy.

  When he returned with three frothing pints in his hand, Pike relentlessly picked up the trailing end of the same conversation.

  “One look at the Sea Tiger an’ ye’d change yer mind in an instant.”

  “What if I don’t want to change my mind?”

  “Then it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. So what do ye hae to lose? Come an’ see her—shouldn’t do ye no harm if what ye say be true. Though I suspect ye do want to change yer mind, but ye jist don’t know it yet!” Then Pike’s eyes narrowed to a sly glint, indicating his unabashed challenge to Robbie’s insistence, as he said, “If ye’re truly happy servin’ in Her Majesty’s Navy, then a wee look on me own good fortune couldna hurt ye none, now could it, lad?”

  “Then I wouldn’t mind if I did, in that case,” replied Robbie. “Just to have a look, that is. As long as we understand each other.”

  “O’ course! O’ course!” insisted Pike, the ghost of a smile discernible on his grimy and grizzled face.

  ———

  Later that night, while Robbie was back in his quarters, sound asleep on his cot and none the better for his evening out, the conversation continued in a different vein at the Rum Runner.

  The place had quieted considerably, with only a handful of the most wretched of the merrymakers remaining. Lucy and Barbara were doing their best to turn away two drunken newcomers at the door, and hoping to get the rest out too, so they could close. Thus, they did not pay much attention to the conversation at a back table, now cast in shadows as the fire in the hearth died to mere embers.

  “Five shillin’s!” said Kerr, biting down on one of the coins to test its genuineness, though his teeth appeared none too capable of carrying out their part of the arrangement. “You tol’ me ten.”

  “That’s when your job is done.”

  “Now wot’ve I gots t’ do?”

  “You see that he gets out to the Sea Tiger.”

  “The bloke’s goin’ t’ get suspicious,” argued Kerr. “You said yoursel’ t’ make sure he don’t go suspectin’ nuthin’. An’ I tell you he’s goin’ t’ wonder if somethin’s up wi’ me gettin’ so fren’ly all of a sudden.”

  “I’ll worry about that. You just get him to the ship. It’ll be worth a quid to me instead of just the extra five shillings.”

  Kerr scratched his head.

  “You that sure he’s goin’ t’ join up wi’ ye?”

  “Never surer of anything. Now get out, and make a good job of it!”

  “Don’t see why ye’re so set on him nohow,” mumbled Kerr as he rose and ambled away from the table and out the door.

  Pike leaned his chair back on two legs and rubbed a rough and dirty hand across five days’ worth of gray beard. The night had gone well—exceptionally well. If Kerr would keep up his end and not botch things, he ought to have everything pretty well sewed up in a few days. But time was no problem, for the Sea Tiger would not be ready to put out until the middle of February. That gave him a month. Still, Pike had enough other things to worry about without having to sweat over this at the last minute. But even if it did take some extra effort, he was set on having Robbie Taggart as his first mate. It had been sheer luck that he’d found him in the first place after all these years, and he wasn’t about to let such a golden opportunity like this pass.

  Pike grinned broadly.

  Lady Luck had indeed been more than generous with him lately. First of all, meeting up with the blokes at the Cathay Mercantile Company—Cranston and Dempster—had been a boon as not many sailors could boast. They had said he was just the man they needed, and, of course, he’d be the last to disagree. An offer as they proposed seldom came to a middle-aged, one-legged sailor. Pressing his luck to the limit, he had insisted on a partnership in the deal and, surprisingly, they had agreed. It was obvious they counted him too valuable to lose. Whether that fact was the result of his experience or his dubious character, Pike did not ask.

  Then to top it all off he had chanced to meet Kerr one night in the Rum Runner. While discussing old shipmates, Taggart’s name came up. That was the moment Pike realized just what a streak of good fortune he was on. And he felt in his bones that things were only going to get better. For once in his life, he—Benjamin Pike—would have a few things his way! He deserved it and by heaven, he’d get it—get it all, he would!

  Pike lowered his chair with a resounding crack through the now deserted dockside pub. He pushed it from the table and lurched to a standing position. As he walked toward the door he took no notice of Barbara’s disgusted glance at his half-leg, its wooden stump grinding into the floorboards with each forceful step. But if he had seen the girl, he would merely have given her a scornful sneer, probably enough to send even that hardy woman into a faint. He was well used to people’s stares, but he never let them pass without rebuttal.

  He deserved that, too, and let no man or woman try to rob him of that right.

  5

  A Surprise Meeting

  The next week gave Robbie not a spare moment. Though Barclay could have known nothing of his evening out, it seemed as if he were making him pay for it nonetheless.

  By week’s end he had to get away once more. For all his talk to Pike of the Navy “not being a bad life,” he knew the words were empty and meaningless. His taste of independence in his younger days had ruined him. Now he was stagnating while others moved on up the ladder. That very morning a new promotions list had been posted, and as usual his name was nowhere to be found. Several of his equals, however, had received their due; one, who had entered the service at the same time as he and who had grown to be one of Barclay’s favorites, was made commander.

  Robbie pushed back from his desk in the little cubicle that had grown to be representative of his tenure in Her Majesty’s service, and knew that he was ready at last to make his stand, whatever that would be. This emasculating life could not go on forever—at least not for him! He was a man, and would take his stand as one!

  His first act of defiance was to stride resolutely from the office building. He was off duty for the weekend—officially. However, Barclay expected all his men to report to him prior to their departure. Robbie decided to ignore this little ritual. He knew his commander was certain to find some reason to detain him, and he was in no mood for it just now. But beyond such reasonings, Robbie himself was no doubt unaware of his full intention in this minor act of confrontation. As a man standing on the gallows, though fearful of death, yet only wants the execution to be done with and the awful tension relieved, so Robbie instinctively realized that things could not go on as they were. If forcing the issue would bring it to a head—whatever the result—perhaps that was for the best.

  So he flung his coat over his shoulders and pulled his hat down tightly over his forehead in anticipation of the threatening storm. The clouds that had hung low over the city for days had lifted a bit in the last hour, though one could never tell what they might do. For the moment the streets were dry, and for that Robbie was thankful.

  Once he found himself striding down the street, Robbie realized he had no particular destination in mind. The thought of the Sea Tiger had never been far from his mind that week, but—if he could admit it—he was somewhat afraid of Pike’s words and the challenge they had contained. At the same t
ime, however, he yearned to look upon that craft as any man would who had once been intimately associated with such a vessel. He longed to feel the creaking timbers of her deck beneath his feet, to stand looking up at the glorious heights of her masts, to run his hand along her polished oak rails while listening to the river lap lazily against her hulls. He didn’t dare allow his mind to picture her with sails full as she raced with the wind down the channel toward the open sea. Such a thought would have undone him.

  No, he could not let himself give quarter to Pike’s tempting offer. And seeing the ship sitting in the harbor would be the worst thing for him right now! Instead he turned from the direction of the docks. It didn’t matter where he went, so long as he was far from the temptation of the Sea Tiger.

  In forty minutes he found himself near Hyde Park. He smiled ironically to himself, for he had certainly been successful in finding as great a contrast as possible to the docks. Here were neat little houses, all in stately rows that hadn’t changed for years on end—nor had their occupants, most of whom regarded change of any kind with disdain. They awoke at 7:00 sharp every morning, breakfasted on an egg (cooked precisely three and a half minutes), and buttered toast while reading the morning Times. The men took the 8:15 to their offices and the ladies lunched with their garden clubs and took tea precisely at 4:00. For variety, an evening at the theater was permitted.

  Suddenly Robbie caught himself, ashamed of his mockery. Only months ago he had been willing to become one of them for a chance to win Jamie. But even had she accepted his love, he wondered if he could ever have adjusted to such a life.

  It was doubtful. He was not made of the same stuff as a country squire or a Westminster businessman. And the Navy was strikingly similar. The military presented glamour and shine and polish and excitement on its surface, while beneath, the sole purpose was to convert all manner of divergent individuals into a single, nonthinking, unified mass—each part identical to the other. Individuality, any deviation from the accepted norm, resulted in punishment and ostracism. And again the question came to his mind: How can I be my own man when every move toward individuality is repressed?

  When he had entered the Navy four years ago, he had been optimistic. The Navy had seemed like such a chance in itself—a grand new experience to add to his vast repertoire of memories from around the world, and one with new potential for growth and advancement and travel. He had soon been purged of those false assumptions. Perhaps he had not been wrong originally. It was certainly a new experience. In after years, he would doubtless look back and say that he had learned from it. What if his frustration came, not because of the Navy life itself, but because he had mistakenly considered his joining the Navy as permanent? Perhaps it had played itself out, and now he was ready for another new experience. He was not bound hand and foot to the Royal Navy. He was, after all, still his own man—they could not take that from him!

  His thoughts had been so occupied as he walked along that he hardly noticed the passing coach, nor first heard when his name was called from inside. But as the coachman pulled the horses to a stop just ahead of him, he could not help but wonder, a reaction that increased tenfold as his name was again called out.

  “Robbie . . . Robbie Taggart!”

  At the sound a surge swept through his entire body. It couldn’t be!

  But his heart gave a leap in spite of himself.

  “Robbie!” came the voice again, and this time there could be no mistaking the sweetly familiar sound. It fell upon his ears more welcome to his aching heart than a brisk sea breeze.

  He hastened forward to the coach and took the dainty, gloved hand offered out the window.

  “Jamie,” he said, “it is you! Dear Jamie MacLeod!”

  “Oh, Robbie! I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw you on the street!” said Jamie. “Seeing you makes my visit to London complete!”

  “Then you are only visiting . . . ?” Robbie tried not to let the sound of disappointment creep into his voice.

  “Yes. I suppose you might even call it honeymooning.” A flush crept up into her delicately creamy features. “Edward wanted me to see the city. And he had some business besides.”

  “So you are Lady Graystone now! I’m happy for you!”

  Though Robbie had not been happy for himself lately, his words were genuine. He loved Jamie enough, with the right kind of love, to be able to rejoice in her having found her heart’s desire.

  “Won’t you come join us, Robbie?” she said, glowing with pleasure, for her love for Robbie was also of the right sort. “We are on our way to meet Edward for luncheon. He would enjoy seeing you again.”

  Robbie recalled that Graystone had been none too enthusiastic upon their last meeting. But the situation was quite altered now—they were no longer rivals, and that made all the difference. And how could his friendship with Jamie possibly conflict with the relationship between a husband and wife? She was a dear friend, perhaps the best friend he would ever have—but that was all. Everything became plain now that he saw her again. And how glad he was that she had come back into his life just then, for he needed a friend so very badly.

  Just then a golden head poked out the window next to Jamie’s.

  “Look, Mother, a soldier!” exclaimed a child of six, whose lively eyes glinted with enthusiasm for everything around him.

  “I’m a sailor, lad,” corrected Robbie. “Blue for the Navy, red for the foot soldiers.”

  “Do you have your own ship?”

  Robbie’s grin faded briefly, but with a jocular tone he glossed over the chagrin caused by the innocent words. “And what else would you expect a sailor to have, lad? Now, who might you be, young man?”

  “I’m Andrew Graystone,” returned the boy proudly. “Can I see your ship?”

  “Andrew,” said Jamie, “you have only just met Lt. Taggart—”

  “I don’t mind, Jamie,” cut in Robbie. “It does me good to see such youthful excitement.”

  “Are things well with you, Robbie?” asked Jamie. He knew her question was more than a polite pleasantry. Her concern was prompted by a depth of friendship that noted something amiss in the tone of his voice. It was also a question that required an answer reflecting like depth—an answer Robbie was not quite yet prepared to give. Even he did not know the answer to it.

  “Oh, I suppose they could be better,” he answered lightly. “But isn’t that always the case with Robbie Taggart—never quite satisfied with the spot where his feet choose to alight?”

  “Robbie . . . Robbie—always the soldier of fortune. That’s the real you, isn’t it?” said Jamie with a tender smile.

  “Robbie Taggart, Highland sailor—that’s me! Not like you, I’m afraid, content always to remain in the lee of your dear mountain. In fact, it surprises me to find you so far from Donachie and the Highlands.”

  “London was one of the grand cities my father spoke so often about,” replied Jamie with a distant look in her eye, “a place at the far end of the world that I so longed to see. But it’s taken the years and insights of adulthood for me to begin to see what my grandfather meant when he would say, ‘Why lang fer the rest o’ the world when ye hae the best richt here on oor ain Donachie?’”

  “Then you’ll be glad to return to Aviemere?”

  Jamie sighed.

  “We won’t be returning to Aviemere.” She explained that Derek Graystone had lodged his hereditary claim to the estate, and Edward had chosen to depart from his beloved land, no longer willing to serve his brother’s interests.

  “I am sorry,” said Robbie when she was through. He took her hands comfortingly in his. “You loved the estate so—and your dear Donachie is gone also.”

  “They are not gone, Robbie,” replied Jamie. “God doesn’t take back his good gifts, though sometimes He sends us on to new things, and more often than not, much better things. As it is in our case. I’m content, Robbie, for my joy doesn’t rest in things, but in life. God has given me all I want, or could hope to want.”r />
  “I’ve always admired your faith, Jamie.”

  “But not enough to espouse it yourself?” she rejoined with a smile and a good-natured twinkle in her eye despite that the words came from the depth of her heart of love.

  “I shall leave that to you and Andrew here.”

  “Is that to say that the things of God are best confined to women and children?”

  “I suppose not . . .” he hedged. “But then I doubt God needs to be bothered with a healthy, strapping man who can take care of himself.”

  “Oh, Robbie, if you only knew! Do you think that your manhood would somehow be lessened if you admitted that you needed God?”

  “Perhaps. I’ve always prided myself on being independent since I was just a kid. For a woman like you—”

  “You think it’s different for women?”

  “Well, isn’t it?”

  “No, Robbie, No, it isn’t. Women are just as independent as men. And we each have just as great a need of the Lord in our hearts. That’s how I discovered what it truly meant to be a lady. And I venture to say that’s the only road to true manhood as well. But I’ll not preach at you. I care about you too much to try to convince you of something only God can reveal to you. ’Tis best you find out in your own way and in your own time—and I know you will!”

  Jamie gazed out the small coach past Robbie, then closed her eyes for a minute. To Robbie she appeared homesick, saddened by the dreary scene of the city sidewalks and cobbles and brick and stone. He would never have guessed that at that very moment Jamie was praying for him, asking her Lord that no matter where Robbie’s restless feet led him, He would reveal to him the strength and humility of true manhood, known through the saving truth of God’s love.

  Wanting to lighten the heavy mood he judged had fallen upon the unexpected reunion, Robbie slapped his thigh, and, grinning with a new rush of enthusiasm, said, “I’ve just had a splendid idea!”