His ship was wintering in Aberdeen and he had taken up temporary lodgings in the city there, to which—much as he loved his mother—he was now anxious to return. The storm caused him no concern for he planned to spend the first night of his walk back to the coast in a deserted cottage which was now only about thirty or forty minutes away. He had friends along the way if the weather remained foul. Indeed, Taggart’s winning charm and quick smile had made him an abundance of friends scattered quite literally over the whole world. If no place was his home, he could be at home anywhere, and there were many men and women of different ages and nationalities who would have considered it an honor to share their room and humble fare with the youth. Whatever time of the day or night he might appear at their door, he would always find a glad and honest welcome. If the young women he had known were charmed by his deep-set, sea-blue eyes, thick, black wavy hair, and perfectly-sculptured masculine features, the others were no less taken in by his wit, infectious laughter, happy sanguine personality, and his strong sense of loyalty. They said about Robbie, “His feet may roam, but his heart always stays true!” His many friends across the globe were as good and true to him as he was to them, because they knew he would give his very life for them.
So the sailor plowed his way gladly through the snow and ice, whistling and singing the ballads of Burns, completely unaware that within a few steps all life for him would be changed.
When he heard the faint moaning sounds and stopped to listen more intently, he first thought some poor animal had either been hurt or trapped by the sudden snowfall.
Glancing this way and that, he attempted to follow the sound, very faint in the wind. Then he saw a piece of grayish clothing blowing in the wind from behind a small drift of snow.
13
Rescue
Quickly Robbie left the road and made an effort to run. When he reached the drift he tore at the snow, flinging it madly in all directions.
Jamie had reached the spot only moments ahead of him, but already a thin blanket of whiteness had covered her over. In five minutes more she would have been buried in a frozen wintry tomb.
In the gathering darkness it was difficult for Robbie to tell just how the figure was lying, but he soon uncovered the arms, then the head. Frantically he scraped the snow from the legs and turned the body over. He could still feel warmth; at least the poor child was still alive—barely!
“Dear Lord!” he breathed, laying eyes on the peaceful sleeping face. “’Tis but a lad! What would he be doing out on a day like this!”
Jamie could not answer his question. Although she still clung to life with all the tenacity that was in her, she had drifted into the deepest sleep she had ever known. In the short time she had lain there, her extremities had grown numb with cold—a cold she no longer felt. Her eyes were sealed shut with ice where her tears had frozen. Just before she had lost consciousness a great peace and warmth had come over her. Now, as from some deep depth of awareness that went deeper than her sleep, she felt the strong arms lift her face from the snow, she tried to speak words of protest. “Let me stay and sleep—just a while longer,” she wanted to say. But she was trying to speak, as in a dream, and no words would come.
“At least you’re alive,” Robbie said, “but you won’t be for long if I don’t get you out of this—and soon!”
He lifted her into his arms, hardly conscious of the weight of her small frame. Slinging her pack over his shoulder alongside his own, he set out again. Both the wind and the snowfall seemed to ease almost immediately, as if the storm had played out its fury against the daring young maiden but would not now waste its effort against the sailor it could never beat into submission. Robbie judged the deserted cottage some two miles ahead and he quickened his pace to the extent the drifted snow would allow. All the way he talked to Jamie, trying every now and then to shake her body awake, but still she hovered in the peaceful land between sleep and death, struggling not to return to the land of cold and wind and ice and snow. All had been so warm and cozy before those two rude arms had jostled her into half waking.
In about twenty minutes Robbie stood at the door to the cottage. Laying his burden once more in the snow, he cleared the drift from the entryway, put his shoulder to it, shoved in the door, picked up his cargo again, and walked inside.
To their good fortune the roof was still intact and had not yet collapsed like so many of the deserted shells which dotted the hills of the highlands. Though it was as cold within the walls as out in the storm, at least they were protected from the wind. Like Finlay’s home, there was but a single room, and this one was nearly bare.
Laying Jamie down on the floor, Robbie set about the task of lighting a fire. He had brought matches and a few things with him, and there was sufficient peat (he had seen to that on his way from Aberdeen previously) to last the night. The hearth in the center of the room had not felt the warmth of a blaze since Robbie had passed that same way a month earlier. Within a short while the flames crackled under his skillful hand, though it would take some time before the cottage would be warm.
Jamie lay where he had deposited her, aware that things were going on around her, calling out after her grandfather occasionally, and mumbling incoherently, but still bewildered and trying both to cling to sleep and to escape it all at once.
Once the fire blazed to a healthy orange and yellow, Robbie returned to his ministrations, removing her coat and prying off her boots, which were by now soaked through from the melting snow and ice.
“A lass!” he exclaimed, suddenly grasping the truth of his charge. “A shepherd girl, no doubt, losing her way home from somewhere in the hills!”
Taking a blanket from Jamie’s pack and placing it over her chest and shoulders, he moved her so that her feet—clearly the most serious threat—were in the direction of the fire, for frostbite could hardly be far away, if indeed it was not already too late. The fire itself would be too hot if he moved her closer to it. Therefore he lay down at her feet, unwrapped them completely to the skin, then thrust them inside his shirt. The cold of the tiny numbed feet made him catch his breath, but the warmth of his own body saved them in the end.
Gradually he could sense his efforts having their effect. The cottage slowly warmed, and every now and then Jamie squirmed uncomfortably. Feeling the hint of warmth returning to her feet, he began to rub them vigorously, then placed another blanket over them and left the fire to do its work. After an hour she opened her eyes hazily, looked at the stranger staring so strangely at her with an odd smile on his face, and tried to speak. No words would come out. By degrees she relaxed, drifted again to sleep, slept peacefully and soundly, and did not again awaken until morning light streamed through the one small window on the south wall of the cottage.
The light of dawn also roused Robbie from his uncertain doze. He looked quickly about and was relieved to find the lass sitting up where he had laid her, the blankets still wrapped tightly about her. She was staring at him with a mixture of wonder and curiosity. He smiled.
“I see you’re still with us!” he said brightly.
“An’ I’m thinkin’ ye’ll be the one I maun be thankin’ fer it,” replied Jamie, trying out her voice for the first time.
“No thanks required,” he said laughing. “I’m in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress. You are a damsel, aren’t you?”
Her brow wrinkled in perplexity. “I canna be sure—I’m nae understandin’ yer meanin’.”
“A lass! Am I right?”
“’Course ye’re right! Do ye—do ye think I’m a boy?” she returned briskly, her green eyes flashing with a hint of their old vigor.
“I meant no offense,” he said, trying to subdue the laugh which insisted on remaining with him. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with children.”
“Children! I’m nae child!”
“Ah, I see.”
“I’m a full seventeen, I am!”
“Well, that does change everything,” said Robbie, his patronizing to
ne lost on Jamie. “Well,” he went on, at last getting his sense of the humor of it all under control, “whoever and whatever you are, you’re no doubt hungry. I am!”
He rose, laid several fresh pieces of peat on the fire, and went outside to fill a container with snow to boil for tea.
Seeing what he was about when he returned, Jamie quickly pulled herself to her feet, saying, “Let me take care o’ that!”
But in a moment she was on her back again. Having never been sick in her life, the sensation of lightheadedness and the tingling discomfort in her feet were altogether new to her. She was hardly used to lying flat while another served and waited on her. Her whole life had been spent serving others. Several more times she attempted to get to her feet, but her legs were too weak to hold her. At last she let out a long sigh and lay still.
“Don’t worry,” said Robbie cheerfully. “There’s not so much to making a cup or warming up dried oatcakes—I’m afraid that’s all I have, besides some dried herring and cheese. I wasn’t expecting company!”
“I’m sorry t’ impose on ye—”
“Impose! You were near dead when I stumbled on you! Don’t think I’d leave you there, do you? My mother always packs me more than I could eat alone, anyway.”
Suddenly Jamie sat up. “My pack!” she cried. “My things!”
“’Tis all right here,” said Robbie. “Was lying beside you in the snow.”
“’Tis all I hae in the world,” said Jamie, relieved.
“Then I will guard it with my life.”
Robbie turned his attentions to the water, now boiling, and the preparation of tea. In five minutes he handed a steaming cup to Jamie, along with an oatcake and piece of fish. With his own cup in his hand he sat down beside her.
“So,” he said, “what’s a young lass such as yourself doing alone in the middle of a storm like this?”
“I was travelin’,” Jamie replied.
“To Aberdeen?”
Jamie’s forehead wrinkled. “What makes ye say that?” she asked. “Why would ye be thinkin’ I’m boun’ fer Aberdeen?”
“You mumbled something about it in your sleep.”
“In my sleep! So’s ye cud hear me?”
“Aye. People do that, you know. I see it all the time onboard the ships.” Robbie paused, eyeing her intently. “I suppose you weren’t really asleep,” he went on. “’Twas almost like you were half dead—and so you were!”
“An’ I said I was goin’ t’ Aberdeen?”
“Have you run away from home?”
“Nae, nae!” she said quickly. “Weel, maybe I have,” she added. “That is, if ye can call it home now as my gran’daddy’s gone.”
“You live with your grandfather?”
“Fer ten years. But he’s dead noo. An’ I’m headed fer Aberdeen, jist like ye said.”
“Relatives there?” asked Robbie, taking a bite of the dried oat biscuit.
“I hae nae people o’ my own—not on Donachie, not in Aberdeen. My ain daddy’s been gane mony a year, an’ noo Gran’daddy’s gane too.”
“I’m sorry,” said Robbie. “But you must have friends somewhere!”
“No one, that is unless ye call the factor a frien’ ’cause he knew my gran’daddy. I was tryin’ t’ find his hoose in the storm.”
“The factor of Aviemere?”
“Aye. George Ellice.”
“That’s miles from here, lass! You came down clear on the wrong slope of the mountain to find Aviemere! And you’re clean past it by now.”
Jamie sighed. “Then perhaps I hae nae frien’s at all.”
Robbie was silent a moment. He was touched by her words, which, for all their sorrowfulness, contained not a hint of self-pity. For one such as he, with more friends and acquaintances than he could well remember, the thought that anyone could be so alone, so without anyone, was unthinkable. He set his cup down on the hard-packed floor and thrust his hand toward her with a smile.
“Then, miss, I’d be honored to be one of your first friends. My name’s Robbie Taggart!”
He took up her hand and wrapped his own—so much larger and warmer—firmly around it and shook it vigorously.
“Thank ye,” replied Jamie, her lip quivering imperceptibly. “I’m Jamie MacLeod. My gran’daddy was shepherd on Donachie, shepherd fer the laird at Aviemere. An’ I’m grateful fer what ye hae done fer me. But I dinna like keepin’ ye frae—”
“You’re keeping me from nothing, Jamie MacLeod! ’Tis months before my ship sets sail. Now, let me get you another cup of tea. You need all the warming inside you can get!” He rose and refilled her cup, humming a little tune, while Jamie sat deep in thought.
It was then Jamie first realized that it was quiet outside. The winds no longer swept through the winter skies with their death-chill, and the terror of the blizzard was almost forgotten in the warmth of the cottage. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine herself back on the mountain, cozy and warm inside their home with her grandfather.
But no. She was not on Donachie. Her grandfather was gone, and she had left. And she had not forgotten why she had left, nor the purpose that had steadily been rising within her. She had left to find—to find—
What was it?
Suddenly new words came into her mind, words from the distant past that she had completely forgotten. Yet all at once here they were, ringing as if she had heard them only yesterday: “Aberdeen is where we should have gone long ago. I’ll find what I’m looking for there . . .”
Gilbert MacLeod had said them so very long ago, and the little child who had listened had not understood. But she had tucked them away in that most hidden back corner of her mind, not even realizing she had done so until, lying at the door of death, they had emerged from their sleeping cocoon to give that child, now nearly a woman, the confirmation of direction she unknowingly sought.
“So ’tis Aberdeen you’ll be seeking, is it?” said Robbie. “And you know the way there?”
“I was plannin’ t’ seek the factor’s help aboot that,” Jamie replied.
“Well, you’d have had a difficult time of that, where you were headed! But have no fear. ’Tis there my feet are taking me, too!”
“Aberdeen?”
“Aye, ’tis where I’m bound.”
“Would ye be mindin’ if I came wi’ ye? Or ye cud jist give me directions.”
Robbie smiled broadly. “Mind? We’re friends now! I’ll be giving you no directions—I’ll take you there myself!”
For the remainder of the day the talk flowed more easily. Jamie was anxious to learn all she could of the great city on the sea where her future seemed to lie. And Robbie was willing to tell all he knew, even though the base of his familiarity with the city was undoubtedly different than what Gilbert MacLeod would have had in mind. He recounted countless stories of the bustling port and its people, and when he ran out of these, he told of the other ports where he had traveled. And to it all Jamie listened in awe.
In the midst of one tale, with Jamie’s eyes grown so large with wonder that they could open no farther, Robbie burst into a merry laugh. “Don’t worry, child,” he said. “I’ll hold your hand all the way. I’ll show you everything you need to know. The city is nothing to fear!”
“I’m sure I’ll become familiar wi’ it all,” she said, embarrassed by the spell she had been under.
“No doubt! no doubt!” he replied, still laughing.
“I maun get t’ know the city,” she went on, this time more firmly. “I’m goin’ to be a lady,” she declared.
“You don’t say,” he chuckled.
“I do say!”
“Well, that is something I will want to see. The gentry of Aberdeen will have their hands full with you.”
“Ye’re makin’ sport o’ me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s a lot you have to learn, about—things, that’s all. Gentlemen and ladies aren’t so likely to open their arms and homes to a poor shepherd girl. Being a lady’s m
ore than learning to talk and act like one. There’s a lot for you to learn in the city, Jamie. It’s not the simple life you knew with your grandfather.”
“Ye said ye’d teach me.”
“Aye. And that I will,” he replied, again with a merry laugh. “But though I know Aberdeen, I know precious little about being a lady. Somebody else will have to teach you that!”
He laughed again.
Sometimes Jamie could not quite tell if he was laughing at a joke—or if the joke was her! But his mirth was infectious. Therefore she found herself joining in the fun.
Perhaps it didn’t matter what was the reason for the laughter. The anticipation of a new adventure was growing within her. Whatever happened, this was the beginning of the fulfillment of her dream, and perhaps her father’s too.
This was the beginning of a new life for Jamie MacLeod.
Part III
Aberdeen
14
Sadie Malone
Night had fallen when they first came within sight of the city. As they entered, the streets were quiet and dark. It was strange and eerie to Jamie, whose imagination would never have been able to dream up such a place. The quiet here was vastly different than the quiet of the mountain—a strange, inhabited silence, seemingly waiting for something to happen. With each step toward the heart of the metropolis of 65,000, she became more apprehensive—had coming here been a mistake? What would she do? This was like a foreign land!
“Seems the storm’s forced everyone to their beds early,” laughed Robbie.
Jamie tried to gather courage from his bravado. Everywhere she looked everything was new and unusual to her. She took in as much as the occasional candle or street lamp would allow. There were more buildings and houses and shops and carriages than she would have thought possible.
As they turned a corner, the stillness was suddenly interrupted by a sudden shriek. A volley of shouts followed, and all at once a figure shot past them. He would have knocked Jamie off her feet had Robbie not reacted quickly and pulled her out of the way. Two more figures ran past in obvious pursuit, and Jamie stared after them with more curiosity than fear.
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