“There’s nae exit wound,” she muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the bullet it still inside him. I dinnae have any experience with gunshot wounds, but an apothecary once told me it was a common mistake not to check. I’ll have to go in with a pair of pincers and cut it out.”
Graeme’s head snapped up. “Ye cannae do that on a ship like this, the wound will fester.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then what did ye bring me fer? He’ll die either way if we leave the bullet inside him. I have to try.”
“And if it festers?”
Her eyebrows puckered. “I’ll do my best. Salt will clean the wound, and I can close it up from there.”
“It’s witchcraft,” one of the sailors spat.
Elspeth frowned and brushed her hair back impatiently, oblivious to the blood smeared on her forehead. “Nae, it’s an understanding of how the body works. We can argue about this while ye watch him bleed to death, or ye can shut up and let me work.”
Graeme grabbed her by the arm and whispered in her ear. “This man is like a father to me, and half the members of this crew. If he dies I won’t be able to promise yer protection. The men would never forgive it.”
She huffed angrily and said, “Do ye trust me?”
His eyes glittered with intensity as he nodded. “Aye. Do everything ye can.”
CHAPTER SIX
Coast of Wales, 1547
Elspeth breathed in through her nose, trying to calm herself for the procedure. The smell of viscera was disgusting, and she almost gagged when it overwhelmed her senses. It was a huge leap from stitching up her father’s cuts to performing this kind of surgery, and she was more than a little frightened. Her chest of tools sat on the deck beside her, with the captain and Seamus hovering nearby.
“Is there anything ye need, lass?”
“Clean water and something fer him to bite down on,” she commanded. “If we dinnae move fast he could die before we even make it to the Barra.”
Graeme turned and snapped at one of the men, “Go! Clean water and a wooden stick—make it happen.”
His face was riddled with torment as he grasped the old man’s fingers. The deep wound on Jack’s belly was fully exposed and now she could clean the area properly. Seamus ran off to collect the supplies and disappeared into the lower deck.
Elspeth opened her chest of supplies to retrieve a pair of silver pincers. “Ye’re going to be fine, Jack,” she murmured.
A moment later Seamus came back with a basin of clean water and a wooden spoon, which he handed to Elspeth nervously. In his other fist was a bottle of whisky, which he must have stolen from the galley. “I grabbed the strongest drink that I could find,” he told her in a rush. “It could help to dull the pain.”
Elspeth gave a shaky nod and said, “That’s a good idea. Give it to him.”
Seamus handed the bottle to Jack and lifted his head to drink while they brought it to his lips. Jack swallowed a few mouthfuls and coughed before laying back down to rest.
Elspeth sighed, pouring some clean water over the bullet wound and then lifting the wooden spoon to Jack’s mouth. “Here, ye can bite down on this.”
Jack opened his mouth to accept the tool between his teeth. Tears streamed down his face as he bit into the wood and nodded for her to proceed.
She exhaled slowly, looking down at her ruined hands. She knew the weeping cuts along her palm were not ideal for the task at hand, so she discretely rinsed them off by pouring a ladle of clean water over the skin and wrapped them in a bit of fabric.
“Someone has to hold him down,” she muttered, after tying off her own bandages.
Seamus and the captain pressed down against his shoulders, using their combined weight to hold him in place. Graeme spoke to him in a soothing tone, saying, “Think about Sarah, Jack. Ye’ll be home to see her soon, this is all just an awful dream.”
Elspeth picked up the pincers and leaned in to get a closer look. The metal pressed against her tender palms and she grit her teeth through the pain. It hurt to even hold the instrument, let alone use it for delicate work, but Elspeth knew she’d have to endure it.
“Ye’re going to cauterize him after?” Graeme asked her quietly.
She shook her head, still focusing on the task at hand. “Nae, I would never cauterize anyone unless I had to. Stitches will work better.”
“But—”
“I ken what I’m doing, Captain. Ye need to trust me.”
“Then what are ye waiting fer?” Seamus growled. “Get on with it.”
Ignoring Jack’s sobs, Elspeth prodded the wound until she saw the faintest hint of something silver glistening in his stomach.
There it is, she thought.
It was surrounded by blood and tissue, but she saw clearly enough to reach in with the pincers and try to pull it out. She swallowed the lump in her throat and placed the pincers into the bloody gash to grip the piece of metal. A sense of calm washed over her, and she knew exactly what needed to happen.
Over the sound of Jack’s muffled screams, the world seemed to slow down. In a matter of seconds, she was able to remove the bullet and pull it cleanly from his stomach cavity. With the pincers in her hand, she deposited the casing into a piece of cloth on deck and set them both aside.
“Ye’re doing great, Jack,” she encouraged. “Just a little longer.”
Elspeth threaded a needle and began the process of stitching up the gash. She moved as quickly as her skill would allow, making sure the tissue was clean and the stitches were small and even. After she finished, Elspeth held out a hand without looking up from her work.
“Blade,” she snapped.
Seconds later, she felt heavy steel slap into her palm. Elspeth used the knife to cut the thread and put it to the side with her other tools. She continued applying pressure and cleaning the area around the wound until the flow of blood slowed to barely a trickle. Jack laid back his head and breathed out a tremulous sigh of relief. Seamus took the wooden stick from between Jack’s teeth and set it on the deck.
“All will be well,” she told them. “I was able to get the bullet out, and the wound is clean. If we replace the bandages regularly he should make a full recovery.”
Jack patted her on the knee and smiled weakly. “Thank ye, Elspeth.”
“Dinnae talk,” she told him. “Save yer strength fer the trip back north.” She glanced over her shoulder at Graeme. “How long is it to travel back to Barra?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “It depends on if we stop to rest. If we sleep in shifts and continue sailing through the night, I can have us home in two days.”
Elspeth nodded. “Then that’s what needs to happen. It isn’t good fer him to be out at sea. We should get Jack home soon as possible—his real home, with his wife and children.”
Graeme nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll tell the men.” During the time she and the captain were speaking, the rest of his crew transferred over the rest of the Spanish cargo. He turned to Seamus and added, “Let’s get Jack back onto the ship so he can rest.”
“Aye.”
Graeme sighed, standing up to help Iain and Seamus shimmy a beam underneath Jack to help with transporting him back to the ship. Elspeth stepped back and wiped her hands on a piece of cloth, finally allowing herself to exhale. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty sea air, focusing on the beating of her heart. All at once, she felt the weight of the procedure come down on top of her and what she had managed to accomplish.
She’d removed a bullet from a man’s body and then sewed him up afterward. The more she thought about it, the more impressive it became. Elspeth glanced down at the bloody fabric wrapped around her trembling hands and smiled. Her heart raced wildly, and she didn’t know if it was from the fear of almost losing a life, or the thrill of succeeding.
It was powerful, and it was euphoric, and it frightened her. But what frightened Elspeth most of all was that she liked it.
> The moment she gave herself over to the chaos and heard the blood pumping in her ears, she felt a connection to life she’d never felt before. She also felt a sense of kinship with the crew as they passed by her with a kind word, or a pat on the back. Elspeth didn’t want to think of herself as a pirate—she didn’t want to be one of them. At least, she didn’t think she did.
Her thoughts were shattered by the creaking of shoes behind her. She whipped her head around to see the captain watching her. He was always watching her, but this time it was different. She met his gaze and gulped. His eyes were dark and hooded with strong emotion. His black hair hung limp around him, blood and water from the fight dripping on his shirt and hung like dark curtains on either side of his face, but to Elspeth it only made him look more rugged and dangerously attractive.
She didn’t know what he was thinking, for no one had ever looked at her thus. There had to be a word for it, but Elspeth could not imagine what it was.
Graeme always had a way of making her stomach flutter and whenever she found herself the center of his attention Elspeth felt her chest get tight. She knew he was dangerous and being around him made her feel…excited.
“Ye did a fine job,” Graeme said, taking a step toward her.
Elspeth nodded. “Thank ye. I’m just glad he’ll recover.”
“And what about ye?”
She looked up at him in surprise and asked, “What about me?”
“Ye seem distressed.”
Elspeth smiled weakly and returned to gathering her tools. “I’m…nae sure. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Ye did me a great service today in taking care of Jack, I will nae forget it. Now let’s head north so we can have Jack home.”
Elspeth glanced down over the railing to the birlinn on the water beneath them and sighed. “Very well.”
***
Elspeth settled down onto the bottom boards between the row of benches and tried to make herself comfortable. It was small and not conducive to sleeping, but if she leaned against the side of the boat it was enough that she could rest. Several of the crew had done the same and nestled quietly into their own private nooks wherever they could find it.
The waves crashed against the side of the boat as the men on rowing duty slapped their oars into the water. Earlier, Graeme had divided them into shifts, giving everyone an opportunity to rest but also pressing on throughout the night. While she was grateful for the reprieve, the sound of their oars made it impossible to relax. It would be shift change soon and she still had yet to fall asleep.
When the ship swayed, Elspeth peeked out from beneath the hood of her cloak and watched them rowing in the moonlight. They were all determined to continue until they reached the coast of Barra. She knew they weren’t doing it for themselves, they were doing it for Jack. Graeme’s crew clearly worried about him the same way she did, they were like a family. She’d never known such a devoted group of men, and it was contrary to everything she’d been taught to believe about pirates.
Elspeth frowned, glancing over at the captain. Whatever he’d done to win such loyalty from them ran deeper than she expected.
His eyes were closed as he rested against the side of the ship, completely serene and far less imposing than she first thought. When she found herself gazing at his face, Elspeth paused and pursed her lips together. Even if Graeme was handsome, and his hands strong, with broad shoulders that could wrap themselves around her if she’d let them…
Nae. Do nae even think it.
Elspeth shook her head and banished the thought before her heart began to race. She twisted her fingers around the silver chain of her necklace and tugged gently when she reached the locket. The charm brought her comfort, reminding her of home and a loving family waiting for her return.
She knew it was important to sleep, but her thoughts were going around in circles.
After a while, Graeme roused from his slumber and yawned while sitting up properly in his seat. Their eyes met for half a second and he nodded to her in acknowledgment. She immediately dropped her gaze and Elspeth’s pulse began to quicken when he got up from his seat to maneuver his way across the ship.
Quietly, he stepped across the rowing benches and sat down in the space next to her. “I thought ye’d be asleep,” he whispered.
Elspeth exhaled nervously and said, “I cannae get comfortable.”
Graeme said nothing and glanced down toward her hands where she clasped the fabric of her cloak. “Show me yer hands.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Yer hands,” he repeated.
Reluctantly, she held them out to reveal the bloody bandages on her palm. Graeme looked down at them and sighed before carefully unwrapping the tender skin. She winced as the fabric pulled away from her blistered fingers and tugged on the dried blood. He discarded the soiled bandage by stashing it in linen bag underneath the seat. When Graeme turned back to her his eyes were soft and he examined the damage closely. The skin was red and calloused from the hours of rowing. A few places were even weeping where the skin had torn. He took them gently in his palm and pulled out a handkerchief from a pouch along his waist.
Without a word, he began to wrap them with a handkerchief and then tied the fabric in a knot. Elspeth watched him care for her as he moved from one hand to the next and she shuddered. His eyes met hers again, but there was no judgment as they gazed at one another—all she saw was concern.
“I’m nae going to pretend the work is easy,” he told her. “But this should help in the meantime. I want ye off the oars fer the rest of our trip, so yer hands will have time to heal.”
“Thank ye.”
“It seems that if ye’re going to take care of my men, someone should be looking out fer ye as well.”
Elspeth blushed and pulled away from him, saying, “I can take care of myself.”
She felt vulnerable–afraid. Her hands were shaking when she pulled them back underneath her cloak. There was a pause and Graeme looked her over slowly. He reached out to touch her face and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, but she pulled away from him. “Nae.”
The word ripped out of her harsher than she intended. To her surprise, he looked hurt–offended like she’d denied him.
“Ye’re afraid of me,” he observed. It was not a question, because both of them already knew the answer.
Elspeth scoffed and said, “I’ve always been afraid of ye.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I can assure ye nae harm will ever come to ye; by myself, or any member of this crew.”
Elspeth stared at him for a moment, watching the wind tussle his dark hair in the moonlight.
A moment of silence passed between them before either one of them spoke. “Do ye want me to leave?”
She shook her head. “Nae. It’s…it’s fine. Thank ye.”
The men at the oars continued rowing through the dark with the occasional slap of water against the side of the ship. She rested her head against the side and closed her eyes. Hopefully, sleep would come for her at last.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Castle Kisimul, 1547
It was late morning when Graeme stood on the bow of his ship staring at Kisimul Castle, the great ancestral stronghold of Clan MacNeil. With the rolling hills of Barra in the distance, the stone fortress seemed to rise out of the bay on a giant rock, completely inaccessible except by sea. The exterior walls were caked with moss and algae growing on the stone from years of the waves crashing against them.
The word itself, “ciosamul,” translated from Gaelic to “castle-island”. Its position in the water made it perfectly suited to defend the village and keep out unwelcome intruders. Another birlinn was stationed on the landing outside, ready to attack any passing ships unfortunate enough to enter MacNeil waters.
The village of Castlebay stretched out on the shore beyond, with cottages and shops clustered together on the coast and the harbor filled with ships.
When Graeme’s ship approached, a horn signa
led their arrival and faces peeked out from the windows of the castle. A flock of seagulls circled overhead, cawing as they searched for food among the rocks. On the parapet, Graeme could see dozens of people gaze down at them from above. They recognized his ship and waved excitedly.
A voice boomed from among them, “Huzzah! The men have returned. Come and see.”
Graeme signaled to the guard with a wave of his hand and prepared to dock on the castle landing. He motioned for the men to release their oars and waited. Alistair navigated their ship between the rocks and brought them right up to the landing of the castle. When they reached shallow water, several of the crew jumped out and pulled the ship onto the rocks.
A fleet of warriors met them on the shore and greeted Graeme’s sailors with a nod. One of them stepped forward, saying, “Graeme, ye’ve returned at last. The laird will be delighted to see ye. Please, come inside and make yerself comfortable.”
“Would that I could, Gregor. As ye can see, Jack’s been gravely injured and must return home. Before I can see his lairdship, I must be assured Jack will be escorted there safely.”
The warrior nodded. “I’ll have some of my men transport him on an available longship.”
“Thank ye. I’ll help the men unload the ships and be with the laird presently.”
Gregor bowed and turned back on his heel to return through the castle gate. Alistair and the other men unloaded the wooden crates stolen from the Josefina and carried them onto the shore. Laird Thomas MacNeil always inspected his captain’s supply upon return, and Graeme was elated to have such a fine prize to show for their labors.
A voice spoke up behind him and he turned to see Elspeth standing on the landing dock with windswept hair and her gaze cast toward the castle. “What is this place?”
“Kisimul,” he responded with a grin. “Clan MacNeil made this cluster of islands their home many years ago. This castle is the heart of that community. It sits here in the bay to serve as a means of defense, and nae enemy has ever taken it. Few have even been foolish enough to try.”
Taken by Graeme (The Pirates of Barra: Highland Raiders Book 1) Page 5