To A Far Country

by Oliver, Marina

  Flora smiled at her. She was amazingly pretty, with dark curly hair and a pale, flawless complexion. Her lips curved and her eyes crinkled as she smiled. Such cheerful company would be good for Meg.

  'Your family are on board?' she asked.

  Annie nodded. 'My parents, and an aunt, my mother's sister. And I've two brothers, a few years younger than me, and a sister who's only three. She'll be able to play with little Rosie.'

  Flora had baked oatcakes and made a huge stew the previous day. She'd been apprehensive about the facilities for preparing their food, and had no desire to have to fight for space on the one fire allowed until she knew the conditions. She had left it simmering all night on the fire at their lodgings, then packed the cauldron in a box full of hay, and it was still warm. Meg found enough bowls, they sat on the bare deck in the corner which was Meg's berth, and Flora ladled out big portions.

  Bruce and Gordon reappeared, and Bruce nodded reassuringly to her. Gordon slid past into a cramped corner at the back, where his face was in shadow. Not that there was much light down in the hold, Flora thought. And Gordon had changed from the pale grey man who had just escaped from prison. The hard work on the farm had restored colour to his face, his cheeks had filled out, and he'd shaved off the beard he'd worn when they first met. He looked a fairly prosperous crofter.

  'This is probably the last bread we'll have,' she said as she broke off pieces from a big loaf. 'Enjoy it while it's fresh. It will last a few days, but I doubt we'll be able to make more.'

  They were spooning up the stew when the sheriff's men began to move through the passengers. They stopped to inspect each group, ticking off the names against the passenger list as they came. Flora forced herself to eat normally, but as the men grew nearer she found she was trembling. To steady herself she bent over Jenny, fussing with her dress, until the child began to scream with annoyance.

  'Meg, hold her for a moment, will you?' Flora asked, and just as the men arrived before their group she reached across and caught her hand against Bruce's tankard of ale.

  It spilled, flowing towards Rosie, who first shrieked with laughter and then, as the wet liquid reached her feet, began to bawl with fury.

  'Give me your names,' one of the sheriff's men demanded, barely able to make himself heard above the noise.

  Bruce was on his knees, stretching across to help Flora who was trying to pick up a kicking, struggling Rosie, and he answered briefly. 'Bruce and Gordon MacKay, and my daughter Meg. This is my cousin Jamie Lennox and his family. What do you want with us?' he added, turning round with Rosie in his arms, still screaming.

  The other backed away. 'It's not you we want,' he said hurriedly, and moved on.

  They calmed the children, finished eating, then settled for bed. Bruce cast Flora a glance of amusement, but there was no opportunity to talk privately. Jenny and Rosie, worn out with the bustle and excitement of the day, were asleep at once, and Flora lay down beside them. Jamie had managed to place a blanket which closed the opening, and they had an impression of privacy.

  'It will be worth it,' he said as he kissed her. 'Just six weeks, and then a new life together.'

  ***

  For the first few days the seas were calm as they sailed down the Firth of Clyde. Flora had explained to Bruce how she'd known about Gordon, and he kept out of the way until the sheriff's men, frustrated with their lack of success, were put ashore the following morning. As they turned to navigate the Northern Passage, however, the sea became a raging, remorseless enemy, and the weather changed, with wind and rain battering them. The ship's timbers creaked, the ropes strained, and half the sail had to be reefed in. The boat tossed like a cork and many a prayer for deliverance was uttered. Flora, like most of the passengers, was incapable of movement, and those who could were having to cling to something solid when moving around, and at times even when lying in their sleeping spaces.

  The storm lasted three days, during which time the hatches had been closed, the portholes covered, and none of the passengers allowed on deck. It was bitterly cold below, and they huddled into their warmest clothes and sat, shawls and blankets round their shoulders, trying to stay warm. All they had to eat was what could be eaten cold or raw, but most of them could not bear the thought of food. They groaned, vomited, prayed to die, and endured. Flora felt she'd never before known such agony.

  Then, after a lull one night, the hatches were opened and those who wished could venture up on deck for a breath of clean air. A few of the less badly affected attempted to clean up the mess in the big cabin, but the stench remained. In the evening, as darkness fell, there was a sudden crack, and the ship began heaving once more. Those on their feet staggered helplessly, falling over one another as the ship's tossing flung them aside. A man who had been clambering down the companionway lost his hold and fell to the floor, bringing with him the man who'd been on the lower rungs.

  The hatch was slammed shut by the sailors, a moment before the fallen man screamed in agony. In the pitch darkness no one could see to help him, and the renewed bucking of the ship made it impossible to move about without risking falling on others who had been flung to the floor.

  Jamie took charge, but Flora felt so ill she could scarecely understand what he was saying.

  'Don't panic, or more will be hurt. Let's do this carefully. If you can move, crawl back into the berths. Start at the bow end, and when the first group of people are there, shout out, and the next ones move. We can't all move together, or there'll be more accidents.'

  Gradually some sort of order was restored, most people crawled back to the safety of their own berths and all but the injured men were reported safe. They were brothers, it seemed, travelling with their families, and these wailed helplessly in fear of what might have happened.

  'Let's see what we can do,' Jamie said, and he and Bruce made their cautious way to the foot of the companionway. Jamie had a tinderbox, and risked lighting a taper.

  Bruce drew in his breath sharply. 'Look at the way his leg's twisted under him! And that gash, it's pouring blood.'

  'He's bleeding to death,' Jamie said softly to Bruce. 'The one beneath must have hit his head on the foot of the ladder, but he's breathing.'

  'I'll get help.'

  Bruce clambered up the companionway and found that the door at the top was barred on the outside. He hammered on it, and although they could hear the footsteps of the sailors on deck clearly, there was no reply, nor when he shouted through the small crack left at the bottom. Frustrated, he climbed down again.

  'Then we'll have to do what we can ourselves,' Jamie said when Bruce reported failure to make the crew hear.

  He called on one of the men hovering nearby to hold a candle aloft so that he could see what he was doing.

  'We can't move him until we've dealt with the other. I'll get some wood for splints, and something to bandage the poor devil,' Bruce offered.

  Flora roused herself to help tear up some linen, and Bruce broke off some struts from one of the crates. Then as he crawled cautiously back to Jamie, holding grimly to whatever was solid, she reached for the box in which she kept her precious store of herbs.

  Jamie was feeling the man's leg.

  'Thank heaven he's lost consciousness. At least he won't feel it.'

  Blood was pouring from the gash where his leg had broken and slithers of bone protruded.

  'That's a mess,' Bruce said, his voice grim. 'Can you do anything?'

  'I've once before set the leg of an injured man, but that was a clean break. This can't be put together again, I doubt if a surgeon could mend it.'

  'Then do we have to amputate? That would be butchery! It would kill him for sure.'

  'We can try to make him more comfortable, and get the other poor fellow seen to. Then it's up to the Captain. Perhaps one of the sailors has some surgical knowledge.'

  They worked silently, straightening the leg and trying to staunch the bleeding. At last splints were in place, supporting the weight, and they could move him t
o a makeshift bed nearby. The other man was coming round, groaning, and they helped him to his berth where his wife said she could see to him.

  'Just a bump on the head, God be praised,' she said calmly. 'What about Graham?'

  'Not good,' Jamie told her. 'Look after his family, they'll need your help. And we're keeping him by the hatch. We'll have to lift him through, as soon as the weather calms, and the shorter the distance the better.'

  The storm continued, and the man died just before dawn. By then the wind and waves had abated somewhat, there was less tossing, and as soon as the hatch was open Jamie went to speak to the captain.

  'He didn't care!' he told Fiona when he came back. 'The man's an unfeeling brute. He said his sailors were too busy to bother with calls for help. Emigrants, he said, and I could have wiped the sneer off his face, travelled at their own risk.'

  'That's inhuman!'

  Jamie sighed. 'He's in control. None of us can make him do anything he doesn't choose to do.'

  They set about preparing the man's body for burial, sewing it into a canvas shroud. Flora tried to comfort the man's wife and children, but words of comfort did little to quench their anguish.

  'He lost too much blood,' Jamie said with a sigh when it was over. The man's body had been removed by the sailors, and consigned to the sea with scant ceremony. It was still too rough, Duclos explained brusquely, for him to allow the passengers on deck for the normal religious observances.

  'I wonder how many more will die before we reach Canada?' Flora asked despondently. 'And how will the poor woman manage to support her children now?'

  ***

  The storm abated as swiftly as it had arisen, and the sea was so calm the sails flapped loosely against the masts. The boat made little headway, but at least they could enjoy fresh air on deck.

  Flora became used to the motion, but the ills of her pregnancy increased. She suffered nausea, faintness, and ached in every limb.

  'Darling, I shouldn't have let you come,' Jamie said remorsefully one day when she awoke with a blinding headache, so bad she could not bear to open her eyes.

  'I shall be better soon,' she insisted. 'Where are the children?

  'Meg and Annie are looking after them on deck. Don't worry. That Irishman and his wife are playing and singing, keeping up everyone's spirits. Bruce is there too, and the women have organised a system for the cooking. You must stay there and get better.'

  'Reach my medicine box,' Flora said weakly. 'I have some plantain root, that will help if I chew a little.'

  By afternoon she was feeling better, and ached to escape from the crowded conditions of their living quarters. She was accustomed to the clean breezes of the glen, and hated the smell of so many bodies, the all-pervading stench of humanity. Many of the people were too ill to care, and made no effort to keep themselves or their portion of the deck clean.

  Jamie helped her dress and then they clambered out onto the deck. Meg and Bruce were sitting in a corner near the bows, a private space enclosed with some of the barrels which contained drinking water. They each held one of the children, and were staring fixedly towards the stern, where the captain had his cabin.

  'What is it?' Jamie asked when neither of them seemed to notice their arrival. 'What's happened?'

  'I don't know,' Bruce said slowly. 'It might be nothing. Duclos, he came along a few minutes since, and stopped to chat. He does, you know. He told Annie her mother needed her, and took her away to his cabin. But Annie said her mother was feeling sick, and lying down.'

  'She is,' Flora said, 'I spoke to her as we came up.'

  'Oh, well, it will be explained soon enough.'

  Annie didn't return, and wasn't with her family.

  'But she doesn't spend all her time with me,' Meg said as they sat and ate their evening meal. 'She likes to flirt with the men,' she added a little resentfully. 'She's set her cap at Andrew, but if he's not around any of the sailors will do.'

  Flora glanced quickly at the girl. There had been a note of jealousy in her voice. Surely Meg wasn't languishing after Andrew? He and his family had kept apart since they'd come aboard, exchanging few words with her or Jamie. Flora had been feeling so ill for most of the time, absorbed in her own misery, she hadn't taken much heed of others.

  She forgot it as they prepared for bed. The children were asleep, and so was Meg in the next berth. Bruce and Gordon had gone on deck, for a last breath of sea air, he'd said. As it grew dark there was a commotion on deck, feet pounding along above them, and raucous shouts. The hatch was still open, and a few of the younger men had taken to sleeping on deck. Flora shrugged. No doubt they were fighting. It was impossible to prevent disputes arising, confined as they were. Then the voices grew clearer, the men right by the hatch.

  'Where's my daughter? Where's my Annie?'

  The deep tones of the Captain floated down to them. 'Your daughter is safe, and if you know what's good for you you'll leave her where she is. She'll have a much better time with me than she will in that stinking hold.'

  They moved away, still arguing, and Bruce came hurriedly down the ladder.

  'Jamie, can't we do something?' he asked urgently.

  'What is it? What's all that row about?'

  'Duclos. He's forced young Annie Cameron to stay in his cabin. I don't know if she's willing or not, but he told her father that she was, and she'd stay there for his entertainment for the rest of the voyage.'

  'That's monstrous! How long has she been there?' Jamie demanded, looking up at Bruce.

  'Since this afternoon. You remember, she went with him, we told you. He said her mother wanted her.'

  Flora was staring at Bruce. 'He's keeping her there against her will? How can he? The brute!'

  'Jamie, we must do something! He can't behave like this! It's not as if she's a whore,' Bruce urged. 'What if it were my Meg?'

  'Go and fetch her away, Jamie,' Flora begged. 'Her mother must be frantic!'

  Jamie slowly shook his head. 'I didn't believe it happened,' he said almost to himself.

  'You've heard of this before?' Bruce demanded.

  Jamie nodded. 'When I was booking our passages. An old sailor said some captains felt it was their right to hold a pretty girl captive for the length of the voyage. I didn't believe him.'

  'Jamie, stop wasting time!' Flora pleaded. 'Every minute might count. Please go and get her out.'

  He looked at her and slowly shook his head. 'How?' he asked.

  'Offer him money. He's greedy.'

  'I doubt that would sway him. I have no weapons, no authority. It's his ship, and he's in charge. Do you think we'd survive, Bruce and I, if we challenged his actions? And if we injured him, what would happen to us? The sailors obey him, not us. Our lives wouldn't be worth a penny. I'm sorry, Flora, but there's nothing I can do.'

  ***

  Chapter 7

  Jamie had become the unofficial leader of the emigrants. He was not allowed to sleep. Annie's parents, distraught, demanded that he rescue their daughter, and they were joined, to Flora's astonishment, by Andrew.

  'Mr Lennox, she's a good girl, our Annie. I know she likes to flirt, but that's all it is. She'll be terrified of that brute, and I dread to think what he's doing to her,' Annie's father said, trying to urge Jamie to the companionway.

  Her mother was weeping uncontrollably. 'My baby! My precious! How would you like it if it were your Rosie?'

  'Annie will be terrified,' Andrew added. 'You've wrecked enough lives, Lennox, just by coming to the glen. Do you mean to add her to the list?'

  Jamie ignored the taunt. 'Do you suggest mutiny?' he asked wearily. They had been arguing for an hour. 'We're in his power, I'm afraid. He is in charge of this ship and all that happens on it.'

  'But it's monstrous!'

  'I agree. I deplore it as much as you do. I'm desperately sorry for Annie. But I have to face reality. There's nothing we can do. We can, of course, report him to the authorities when we reach Canada.'

  'By which time my bab
y will have been raped and debauched for weeks! It's ruined her life, and you don't care!'

  Eventually the Camerons went back to their own berth, and Jamie, with a deep sigh, sat down beside Flora.

  'What can I do?' he asked wearily.

  She turned away from him. 'You might at least try instead of dismissing them,' she said curtly. 'But how can a man understand what that poor child is going through?'

  There was little sleep that night for any of them. Annie's mother wept noisily, her father muttered curses, and Flora lay miserably wondering how Jamie could behave so unfeelingly.

  In the morning, heavy-eyed, Jamie rose early and went on deck. Annie's father followed him, and Flora could hear him arguing even before he'd clambered through the hatch. She pulled on her gown, wrapped a shawl round her shoulders, for the mornings were cold, and poked her head into Meg's compartment. Meg lay sleepless, staring at the ceiling, and turned her head to look at Flora.

  'Look after the children, please. I'm going to see whether I can persuade the captain.'

  She hitched up her skirts and climbed the ladder. Jamie and Mr Cameron were standing in the middle of the deck, facing Duclos. Flora walked across to them with fierce determination to rescue the child.

  'If you impede me I'll throw you both in irons,' he was saying.

  'But you can't keep my daughter as nothing better than a slave, a whore for your entertainment,' Cameron said.

  'I don't take orders from you! I can do what I please on my ship,' he said, glaring down from his greater height on the short, stocky father. Then he grinned. 'I need a woman, or I might lose my ability to steer the ship safely across the ocean. You'd not like us all to founder on an iceberg because we drift too far north, would you?'

  'I'd willingly throw you onto an iceberg,' Cameron shouted. 'Let her go! She's a child, innocent, not a toy for you to sport with.'

  Duclos closed one eye. 'She's delightful. I rarely have the pleasure of one so young and fresh. And she learns quickly how to please a man. It was a most interesting night.'

  Flora gasped. How could the dreadful man taunt the distraught father so wickedly?