Highland Justice

by Larry Stuart

  Children played board games, and were generally kept entertained by the more energetic adults. While the crew arranged treasure hunts and deck sports to help keep them occupied.

  Cameron spent most of his day talking to other men, soon striking up a friendship with a man from near Kilmarnock, called James McRae. He and his wife Fiona had been working for over ten years on an estate that raised dairy cattle, and now hoped to establish a farm of their own.

  ‘It can’t be an easy life then…runnin’ a farm…I suppose?’

  ‘No, Cameron, ’tis a lot of hard work,’ said James. ‘But then, at least ye be workin’ for yoursel’, an when the profits come they be all yer own. Apart from that…Ah can’t wait till the day comes when Ah can gaze out over the countryside an all Ah can see is mine…an there be no one ’round who can throw me off.’

  ‘I guess it would take a lot of money to be startin’ a farm when you get to Canada?’

  ‘Och, no…’tis what be greet about Canada. It has more land than almost anywhere else in the world…and right now they’re givin’ it away to get people to settle there.’

  Even though he had very little experience in farming, Cameron began to give this serious thought. After all, land owners in England and Scotland lived very well, so why shouldn’t it be the same in Canada? He really must talk to Mary, he decided, after saying goodnight to James.

  As he wandered back towards the stairwell, Cameron looked out to sea, noticing a line of ragged clouds loitering on the horizon, while at the same time a cold gust of wind touched his face, sending shivers down his spine.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sometime during the night, the motion of the ship began to change, and their previously calm little existence disintegrated. Instead of the rhythmic plunging, a twisting movement developed as the ship now met the swell at an angle. Before long, a clap of thunder reverberated throughout the compartment, rousing Cameron from his slumber. And soon he realised that he wasn’t the only one awake, as the heart rending sound of vomiting and retching had returned with a vengeance.

  Slipping from under his blankets, he eased down from his bunk.

  A loud scraping noise accompanied Cameron’s vain attempt to quietly extract the trunk from beneath Mary’s berth.

  ‘What are you doin’?’

  ‘Sorry if I woke you. I be searchin’ for the eucalyptus oil. The weather has taken a turn for the worse.’

  ‘Why don’t you just go back to bed? It’ll probably be fine in the morning,’ she muttered, before rolling back the other way and dropping off to sleep.

  Now wide awake, Cameron slipped on some clothes and, barefooted, headed for the staircase; while at the same time the ship did its best to throw him from his feet. Three steps from the deck, his head emerged into the open, and what he saw almost defied description. It was black, pitch black. The wind was screaming through the rigging and driving the salt-water infused air horizontally across the decks. Almost immediately his eyes began to sting, and within seconds he was soaked from head to foot. Suddenly, lightning flared, illuminating some of the drenched crew struggling to control flailing lines and reduce the amount of sail the ship was carrying.

  ‘Hey!...You at compartment “C” hatch…Get below decks! It’s too dangerous out here!’ yelled the bosun from somewhere in the dark.

  Duly chastised, Cameron carefully descended the wet steps; the dull-white glow from the night lantern now casting strange, evil looking shadows throughout the under deck area as it swung madly about on its chain. A patch of water, spreading out in all directions from the foot of the stairs, now added to the danger of moving about. And as he stepped down onto the floor, the ship lurched to the right, trying once more to propel him across the compartment.

  Using the centrally placed dining table for support, Cameron carefully edged his way back towards his berth, having now decided that maybe bed would be the safest option. But as he climbed up into his bunk – eucalyptus oil in hand – he knew sleep would not come easy.

  Throughout the following day, the frightened passengers huddled below decks. Their world was a terrifying, dimly-lit cavern, seemingly being shaken to pieces each time a roller punched into the hull. At first, terrified screams accompanied each downward plunge from the top of the towering swells, but as time wore on, their protests faded away, either because they had become inured to their home’s wild gyrations, or because they were just numb with fear. Amidst all this chaos, Mary did her best to nurse the sick with quiet reassurance, and attended to the injuries of those ignoring the suggestion to stay in bed.

  Sometime during the afternoon, two crew members broke limbs after being swept into solid objects fitted to the deck. Not long after, a crewman arrived at the bottom of the steps in compartment “C”.

  ‘Mrs Stuart…is Mrs Mary Stuart here?’ he yelled, trying to make himself heard over the commotion outside.

  ‘I’m here,’ Mary replied, lurching out from behind one of the injured passenger’s heavy curtains.

  The ship once again heaved to the right, and Mary’s hand reached out, just managing to grip the edge of the table.

  ‘Captain Rousseau sends his compliments, and requests your presence in the ship’s infirmary to help with two injured crewmen.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll be along presently. I just be finishin’ the bandage on Mr McCauley’s arm.’

  ‘All right…but I’ll wait for you at the bottom of the stairwell. It’s much too dangerous topside for you to be on your own.’

  The journey from below decks, down the right side of the ship to the amidships cargo door, and then down to the infirmary, was to be the most frightening three or four minutes of Mary’s life. The crewman tied a length of rope, fitted with a metal clasp, around her waist, and then led her up the steps to the deck. As soon as she emerged from the hatchway, she was almost knocked off her feet by the force of the wind. The seaman steadied her, and then led her towards the starboard passageway, hurrying from one handhold to the next during the lull between the gusts of wind and torrential rain. On reaching the safety line, but before Mary could be attached, a monstrous wave curled over the ship’s side, and had the seaman not been there to hang on to her, she would surely have been thrown across the ship, and either disappeared over the far gunwale or suffered horrific injuries. Over the next few minutes, as they made their way down the starboard passageway attached to the safety line, she was pummelled by blasts of wind, and deluged by walls of water until finally reaching the doorway leading down to the infirmary.

  After what seemed an eternity to Cameron, Mary returned, and after changing into dry clothing, painted a picture for him of the world outside.

  ‘I’ve never been so scared in ma life. The air is so full of water that when you breathe it almost feels like you’re drownin’. The ship…well…it doesn’t even look like a ship. All you can see are blurred images of various sized wooden partitions, and dark vibratin’ ropes disappearin’ into a wet blanket a few feet above your head. There were times, when I was strugglin’ through water up to my knees that, I wasn’t even sure we were afloat any more. God forbid there’s another ship out there, ’cause we’ll never see it before it’s too late.’

  All day the ship lurched drunkenly from one side to the other; and at times all on

  board held their breaths as they fell off the top of another massive roller. But somehow the ship always survived the impact, and once more began its slow climb out of the trough.

  Night came early that day, as very little light was able to penetrate the slate-grey sky visible through breaks in the low, scudding clouds. No attempt was made to serve hot food, but containers of dry biscuits and plenty of fresh water were provided in all compartments. In the end, very few risked the trip from their berths to retrieve what was on offer, especially as the floor was now covered in a mixture of seawater and human excretions of all kinds. Most passengers were just happy to be alive – the exception being those that were so ill that they were beginning to wish they were
dead!

  Mary finally collapsed from fatigue into a deep sleep, while Cameron lay in his bunk reassessing his beliefs about God, and wondering if this might not be the Almighty’s retribution for the sins that he had committed.

  Cameron awoke to a new and much more pungent fragrance. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it was the acrid odours of carbolic soap now assailing his nose and making his eyes feel sticky. Climbing down from his berth, he gingerly put his feet on the floor and prepared to dodge the soiled parts of their saloon. Then, pulling aside the curtain, he walked towards the bow.

  All at once his brain registered two facts. First, the ship was no longer trying to cripple him by launching him across the compartment, and second, the floor was as clean as the day they had first stepped aboard.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Stuart. How is Mrs Stuart this fine day?’

  Cameron couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Behind the counter in their little galley, stood a smiling seaman, in a clean white jacket. And, by the looks of it, the man was preparing to serve dinner.

  ‘I hope she enjoyed her sleep, because she certainly deserved it after all the help she gave us. When you speak to her, please tell her the two men she fixed up yesterday are much better and send their thanks.’

  From experience, the Captain had known what state the passengers would be in, so had ordered the crew not to disturb them until one o’clock. In the meantime, he had ordered a deep clean to be carried out in all compartments as quietly as possible.

  As Cameron’s eyes took in their spotless accommodation, they were drawn to a new instruction, recently posted on the notice board. Not more rules, he thought, wandering over to read the latest orders.

  NOTICE TO ALL PASSENGERS

  • Passenger bedding to be aired on deck as soon as possible

  • Any soiled bedding to be replaced from ship stores

  • Curtained-off areas will be provided on deck, with sufficient hot water and soap to enable all passengers to bathe

  • After bathing, an extra clothes washing day will commence and operate until sun down

  • This evening, weather permitting, supper will be served on deck, followed by dancing and entertainment

  • Note: would any passengers able to play a musical instrument please contact the purser

  BY ORDER OF THE MASTER

  What Cameron wasn’t aware of was that, Mary had requested the first four items. She knew only too well what dangers lurked, when people lived in close proximity to each other and hygiene was not given top priority.

  Not surprisingly, most people appeared from their berths soon after the pots of stew arrived below decks – their nausea having vanished with the retreating storm. And no adverse comments were heard during dinner concerning the new work details, as once their stomachs had been filled their spirits had become completely rejuvenated.

  For the next ten days the voyage took on a festival atmosphere. The normal routine was re-established, except now during tranquil evenings, dancing and socialising took place on deck, accompanied by a violin, two flutes, and even one Irish bagpipe. The weather remained settled and good progress was made towards the west. Each morning, the hazy eastern horizon gave birth to a new blazing glory. And as evening approached, the sun painted the sky red and then, like a compass, indicated the way before extinguishing itself in the darkening sea.

  Yet just as nature’s blessings were not always bountiful, it seems God’s benevolence was not everlasting; as once more, the little world of ship, crew and passengers were about to be tested.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sunday morning’s well-attended service had just drawn to a close. The passengers and crew had sung with relish; and even the Captain’s sermon had received favourable comment.

  Mary completed her examination of the two McLean sisters, and then closed the curtain tightly before leaving their berth area. The girls’ parents waited outside, and Mary could almost smell the fear they exuded.

  ‘Keep cold wet cloths on their foreheads and try to have them sip some water. I’ll be back very soon.’

  With that, Mary hurried past some of her fellow travellers enjoying a cup of tea in the lounging area and ascended the stairs towards the deck. With mounting anxiety, she went over in her mind the symptoms she’d observed: fever; headache; muscle weakness, abdominal pain and diarrhoea. The irrefutable evidence, though, was the rash of small, rose-coloured spots on the girls’ lower chests.

  Hurrying along the deck, she quickly reached the aft steps leading to the officer quarters. Ignoring the “Crew Only” placard, Mary descended the gangway, strode towards the Captain’s cabin and knocked on the door.

  ‘I’m sorry Captain, but I must inform you that you have two cases of typhoid in compartment “C”.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Yes…I’m afraid I am.’

  ‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘What do you recommend?’

  ‘First, we need to get the girls moved to the infirmary as quickly as possible… then you’d better move their parents in with them. Do you have anyone in there at the moment?’

  ‘No…the two crewmen went back to their quarters this morning.’

  ‘Good…Once the family are out of their compartment I suggest you destroy all their bedding and clothing…oh…and the curtains as well.’

  ‘Tell me, Mrs Stuart, what is the prognosis for the girls? Do they have any chance at all?’

  ‘The youngest lassie will probably die in the next few days. As for her sister…I’m no sure. She seems a wee bit stronger…and because of her age, she has a slightly better chance of survival. Unfortunately, the disease was initially masked by seasickness and now they both be well into the second stage. Tell me, Captain, how far be we from medical help?’

  ‘We are four or five days from Grosse Isle…the quarantine island maintained by the Canadian Authorities in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Obviously, we have no choice but to go there now. Tell me, what are the chances of the typhoid spreading?’

  ‘I can no really tell. It depends on how much contact the family have had with the rest of the passengers. But I must warn you…you should prepare yourself for the worst. At the very least, their mother and father will be infected, and there may be a few cases from people who have been in direct contact with the lassies. I’ll talk to the mother and father, and then make up a list of them they be socialisin’ with.’

  Over the next few hours, the mood on board the ship changed dramatically. At least a dozen passengers had seen the poor little souls being taken from their berths, and accompanied by their weeping mother to the infirmary, supported around her waist by an arm from her fearful-looking husband.

  No sooner had the sad progression disappeared, than two crewmen rushed below. Within minutes, they arrived back on deck carrying the family’s bedding and belongings, which they unceremoniously pitched over the side. All passengers below decks were then asked to go topside, before another deep clean was carried out to the compartment.

  Cameron was not at all happy. He had tried his best to dissuade Mary from putting herself at risk with the typhoid-infected travellers, but she had insisted that it was her duty. Of course, it now meant she was also quarantined, and Cameron would see very little of her for the foreseeable future.

  During their first night in sickbay, both parents began to show signs of the disease, and by the end of the next day two more passengers exhibited the initial symptoms. The ship’s carpenter was summoned by the Captain and ordered to come up with plans for quickly extending the infirmary, if it became necessary. While at the same time, the purser was instructed to draw up a new accommodation list, in case the need arose to rearrange the passengers’ sleeping quarters.

  On day three, both little girls passed away.

  A mournful gathering crowded into the mid-ship deck, where with great solemnity, the Captain carried out what he described as one of his ‘saddest duties’. Most women openly wept, and even some men’s eyes were seen to fill with moisture, wh
en the two small, canvass-shrouded bodies were positioned at right-angles to the railing. The service was kept as short as was decently possible; and thankfully, no sermon was called for, as it would have been impossible for the Captain to justify God’s reason for taking two such innocent lives.

  Thank goodness their parents weren’t here to see this, thought Cameron, as Captain Rousseau stoically read out the invocation ‘...we commend to almighty God our two sisters, and we commit their bodies to the sea…earth to earth, ashes to ashes…’

  To Cameron, the rest was a blur, although the misty picture of the two little white bundles falling into the ocean would be forever etched into the back of his mind.