“Neil, why don’t you go have a lay down.” In truth, he looked rather ill. His eyes were red-streaked from fatigue, the skin smudged with grey underneath. His pallor alarmed Sheila, who had not really noted it until just then.
“Aye, think I will,” he said.
There was quiet after that. Gillan could see they were still brimming with questions, but decided to wait. He murmured to Sheila. “He should go tell his work he’s leaving tomorrow, so he can rest before departure. We don’t want him to be after catching something, and we’ve got our tickets now, so.”
Sheila nodded. What was there left to do? Sewing their few valuables into the clothes they’d be wearing. Packing their meal and flour. Finding containers for extra water. Saying goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The morning dawned, April 9th. The rising sun found crowds of people who’d been waiting since dark had fallen, to be first on the ship, or to get a ticket at a cheaper price. The MacLeans stood together, each guarding a creel or a chest or a sack. They were dressed in their warmest clothes, but still the cold of the early spring morning seeped in.
Neil, seeing Muirne shivering, came close to put an arm around her. “It’s Scotland trying to tell us goodbye,” he said, which made her smile.
“Either that or trying to come with us,” she quipped. She looked over at her brother in the teal-grey light. He did not look much better, despite the days of rest and Jenny’s good food. Muirne wondered if there was to be a health inspection, this side or the other. She sent a quick prayer for Neil to stay healthy.
There was more waiting, as the ship’s crew sought to make room for more passengers to increase the profit from the voyage. In fact, it was past noon and they were all famished when they were visited by Charlie, who’d brought along oatcakes smeared with homemade preserves, and bacon rolls. Other groups looked on enviously, or sent a messenger to procure their own food, as they devoured it all quickly.
“How did ye know we’d not sailed?” Gillan asked.
“How do ye know the sky’s blue?” Charlie replied. “We’ve seen a few friends off now, and they always manage to wait till the end of the day. Not sure why. Leastwise, you’re not standing there for weeks, as I heard happened before. They’ve only just started leaving at scheduled times, so you’re lucky,” he said with a grin.
Jenny had come up behind him. Even though they’d already said goodbye, apparently, she had also known there would be a wait. She brought little presents for each one. A tin of tea for Sheila, a tiny sachet of lavender and sage for her brother, three little books for the older children, and playing cards for Alisdair. Jenny and Gillan hugged fiercely.
“You take care of that beautiful family,” she said to him.
“And you yours, Jenny. Thank you. God bless ye, sister.”
They all heard a loud, low horn. “See? How lucky ye are,” Charlie said. “Not even three o’clock, and they’re starting with the passengers. Fair winds!” He hugged or touched the shoulders of each again, as did Jenny. It was obvious they could not bear to turn away, so Gillan, his eyes full of held-back tears, pulled his plaid over his head and picked up his large chest. “Time to walk on, lads and lasses. Here we are.”
They joined the slow-moving, shuffling line. Every third step Sheila slipped her hand into the folds of her arisaid to feel the shape of the tickets. They arrived at the ticket-taker’s seat and handed over the papers. He ripped a tear almost all the way through each, checking each person’s identity before handing them back. A careless nod, and they were on board. Someone directed them to follow the crowd down below decks, and there they saw the berths with the marked off lines for large luggage. Otherwise, it was first come, first pick.
They shuffled through with all their bags, not wanting to relinquish any of it, and settled on a patch in the middle of the ship. Gillan explained that it might be the best place for avoiding the rocking of the ship. They unrolled the bedding they had brought and laid claim to the space. Sheila motioned for them to go back up on the open deck to see off the boat. “I’ll see to the things. I’ve said my goodbyes, but ye might like to see us pull away from the docks.” Muirne elected to stay with her mother, not feeling up to watching the land pull away so slowly that it looked possible to swim back.
When the others had left, Sheila pulled out Jenny’s gift of tea. She opened it, and saw nestled in among the black crackled leaves, a tiny envelope. She opened it carefully, and saw the bit of sand, and the variety of seeds inside. Her eyes filled, and her hands dropped with the box into her lap. Muirne came over and sat beside her, glancing in.
The seeds and bit of soil must have been part of Jenny’s own store, taken from the island, in hopes that they’d have land again someday. Sheila stifled a sob, which captured the attention of several onlookers, still arranging their own bags and bedding. Muirne put her arm around her and lay her head against her shoulder. She stared into the dark creaking depths of the ship, seeing the long empty days stretch in front of them.
One man looked over kindly. “Dinna fash, mistress. We shall make it across this wide ocean, and have a new start. I know it.”
Muirne was more irritated with his optimism than thankful for his kindness at the moment, but it helped interrupt her sad thoughts. She nodded in his direction, not really being able to see him through the blur of tears. Her mother’s labored breathing eased, and she hoped Neil was able to wave to Jenny and Charlie. She felt exhausted all of a sudden, and laid across their bags. Leaving a hand on her mother’s foot, she fell into an instant doze.
Up on the deck, the rest of the family were standing, waiting for the signal of movement. Every once in a while they waved at those on shore, grinning or smiling. The minutes stretched on as they watched the last people in line filter up the plank and have their tickets torn. The parties who had waited to see if they could get on at a discount, mostly single men or women with children, were now arguing with the ticket-taker. Apparently he was having none of it.
Neil was watching the action, feeling quite detached and queer, when he heard his name. Someone else’s Neil? he wondered. But no, he spied Letty, running forward through the crowd, waving her green kerchief in the air.
“Letty!” he called back, waving an arm. She stopped suddenly, putting her hands to her mouth.
“You are going then?” she called.
“I guess so!” he said, earning a few chuckles from those around him observing the exchange.
“I—I shall miss you,” she stuttered. “Write to me, won’t you?”
“I—” but then it was Neil’s turn to stumble. Why didn’t she ask me before? “Aye, I will.”
Letty clasped her hands in front of her then, her face the picture of longing. Neil was looking at her, wondering where they had gone wrong, then started as he heard the loud, low horn again, signaling some new action for the crew. He held up his hand, and Letty did the same, the other on her heart. Neil felt a tickle coming up his throat, and turned to cough into his elbow. When he looked up, Letty was gone. The harbor whistles started then, and he felt the ship move.
Neil’s eyes darted around the dock, where knots of people were lingering. He found his aunt and uncle one last time, waving and shouting their goodbyes along with the other hundreds of people on shore. He saw no more of the green kerchief. Another tickling sensation seemed to drain the feeling out of his arms. Feeling like he might throw himself over the railing, he clamped down on the rail a moment, then went below to find his family.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Neil soon learned what was required on the ship: as much fresh air as possible, eating and drinking as little as possible, and staying quiet and still when down below. Moving around made the floorboards creak and echo around the open hold. It was bad enough with the coughing and retching noises, as people adjusted to the sea’s motion, but then there was also the babies’ crying and the shouting of some of the families, who did not bother to be discreet about their affairs. Neil was surprised to n
ote that some couples did not bother to be discreet about other activities either: groans at night were clearly audible but never assigned an owner in the mornings.
The first night, they were within sight of the shores of Dumfries with clear weather, so he stayed on deck to watch the few gaslights in the villages as they grew indistinct, one by one. He knew his place was here with his family, but he struggled to understand the appearance of Letty at the last moment. Had she just found out about the ship? Had she been trying to discourage me leaving, but wanted me still? Neil knew the sensible thing for her to have done was to tell him she loved him and given him the choice, if she did not want to emigrate. But she had not done that; she’d pulled back and hidden any evidence of affection, given him the notion that she was not interested in him in the least.
He drifted in and out of sleep, awoken by the unfamiliar sounds of the sails flapping and the rigging creaking above him. Five to six weeks it would take. Then I can send her a letter, but what will I say? ‘Thanks for coming to see me off and getting me in a right confused state?’ His lips quirked in a slight smile. Ach, well. I suppose what they say about love is true, then. It makes ye do mad things.
Neil woke from his dozing before the sun had lightened the horizon. The sailors’ activity overhead had increased in volume. They yelled back and forth to one another, but he didn’t understand a word of what they were saying, even though he’d been brought up fishing by the sea. He went down below deck, where already the smell of the unwashed mass of people assailed his nose.
No light reached down through the hatch, even when it was day. He picked his way carefully through the sleeping forms, finally locating his own patch. He looked down on his mother, curled up and clutching the little tin of tea. Gillan lay behind her, then Alisdair. On the other pile of blankets huddled Sheena and Muirne. Muirne was awake, he saw, as what little light there was caught her eye and glinted. She poked out an arm from under the blankets, inviting him under. He lay down on his back next to her, and she half-turned to whisper to him.
“So what can you see, up there then?”
“It’s just the stars and the black sea. No’ that exciting.”
“Did you sleep? You still look something awful, you know.”
“Thanks,” he said, laughter in his tone. “I did sleep, a bit.”
“Are you well, Neil? Is something troubling you?”
Trust Muirne to notice his hastily hidden melancholy. “It’s no’ important. Jus’—I was just confused seeing Letty there, that’s all. I’d thought she didn’t want me.”
“Letty? She came?” Neil related the brief moment they’d had. He almost doubted its happening, but for the memory of the bystanders’ laughter when he’d first replied.
Muirne reached up her hand, looking for his. It was on his chest, but he moved it to where she could reach. She squeezed it.
“Of course she’d want you. She just didn’t want all of us.”
“Or to leave her family. Although her father—”
“He didna seem the affectionate kind, no, but perhaps she’s just afraid of the unknown.” Muirne paused, then said, “I am.” Neil gave her hand a squeeze back.
“Well, at least we’re together this time,” he said. A vision of how he’d found them in Glencoe: ragged, dispirited, and exhausted, came to him then, and he took in a quick breath, then let it out slowly. He turned to his sister. “Is she cold?”
Sheena was shivering in her sleep. “Aye. We’ve no more blankets, though. I think it’s just the shock of the first day,” she whispered.
Neil rolled out from under the blanket and crept to the other side. He settled himself between Alisdair and Sheena, tucking the blanket behind him to create a snug little nest for Sheena. He looked across, where he could see Muirne’s eyes still glinting.
“Dinna fash. We shall make it.” Muirne echoed the old passenger’s words to her mother to settle her brother. It seemed to work. He’d told her that he’d asked Letty to come with him, but that he’d mucked it up somehow, and been rebuffed. She’d offered to go talk to the girl herself, but Neil had refused the offer. Now they were well on their way, but a tendril of the old world had been flung out to sink its hooks into Neil. He’d let it chew on his insides unless he had something else to think about.
Well, Muirne laughed to herself. There is plenty to think about on this ship, and plenty of time to do naught else.
***
***
Before long, the three older children had found good use for their little books. Neil wrote in his about his confusion and hopes for the new land. Muirne wrote in hers about the daily events that made her laugh so she would be able to look back on the voyage and remember its pleasanter points, instead of just the smells and aches and hardships.
Sheena sketched places and people from home, then asked Muirne for help in writing the names of those she missed. Occasionally she would appear at Neil’s elbow, asking about the location of a certain rock on their beach, or when the last time was that they had thatched the roof on the blackhouse. They were easy questions for Neil to supply the answers to, but it clutched at his heart each time.
Muirne made sure to include her sister in her writing, telling her of some little incident to distract her. And it was quite easy for Muirne to create incidents, Neil noticed, since there were a good number of young men among the two hundred passengers, and they’d certainly taken notice of the young women. Muirne, with her long golden hair and piercing blue eyes, stood out.
She teased some of the older boys into showing her tricks at cards, which amused Alisdair. And she walked the upper deck around the two masts during the calm weather days to be able to converse with other families. She brought back stories and whispered them to Sheena and Alisdair before they fell asleep each night. Neil knew for certain she was making most of them up when she brought the cailleach and magic into the stories, but thought it was doing them all a bit of good.
Once, Neil had interrupted a troubling scene: Muirne, back to the open air of the side deck; Alisdair, his arms wound through the piles of netting used for night fishing; and a tall young man with bright red hair, looming over Muirne. He saw her hand clutch convulsively at the rigging support behind her.
“And what has Alisdair got himself into now, then?” he asked.
Muirne’s eyes found his and he noticed her rapid breathing, too. What might have happened if I hadn’t come upon them?
The young man turned and smiled, a bit knowingly for Neil’s taste. “Oh, he’s after trying that Chinese rope game I was teaching yesterday. But with the netting.”
“Careful, Alisdair. Don’t want to mess up the fishing. We might be out of a dinner that way.” Neil went to help Alisdair extricate himself and saw under his lashes Muirne recovering herself. She had a hand to her belly, then scrubbed the back of it against the side of her dress. The red-headed youth seemed not to notice. He nodded to acknowledge Neil and strolled off.
“And who was that?” Neil asked once he’d disappeared behind the ship’s forecastle.
“A Gordon. One of several I’ve met so far. I think—” She cleared her throat. “Let’s go down, shall we? I’ve had enough of the sea air for today.”
They went down and it wasn’t long before Sheena occupied Alisdair enough that Muirne could relate the details.
“He very craftily got Alisdair going on the pile of nets so he could corner me, like some animal in the woods!” she whispered. “I’ll be more careful.” Neil was listening, but remembering being in that young Gordon’s place not too long ago.
“What is it? Neil? You don’t blame me?”
His eyes focused back on her face. “What? No!” he whispered. “I was just remembering feeling like a wild animal myself. Part of the problem with Letty,” he added. Her look asked for more details. “I just didn’t ask her in the right way. She kissed me, and I rushed in—you know.” He looked sheepish.
“She kissed you?”
“Aye. She thought I was a
sking permission to go courting, which I would have done, but—she wasnae prepared for the sailing.”
His regret was palpable. Muirne held off her questions and placed her hand on his.
***
***
Gillan and Sheila followed the same rules for ship life that Neil had set down for himself, with the addition of time for private conversation. The married couple seemed to have a standing appointment for a hurried, whispered discussion each evening before supper. It seemed to Muirne to involve her mother prodding her stepfather about something, which he shook his head at. It ended in Sheila leaving for the ship’s caboose. Sheila was obliged to trudge over to the small galley in the caboose and wait in line to make her family’s meals. The cooking fire and large, shared griddle made the line move fast, but even so, others were there who took a long time cooking their meals, and altercations sometimes broke out.
In mid-April, after their first week at sea, Muirne asked her mother what they were talking about, one night after supper was finished and Gillan had gone out to empty the slops bucket. He’d taken the small brandy bottle with him.
“Oh, he’s just having a bit of trouble deciding where to settle in the new colony, that’s all, dear. We didna have any replies to our letters afore we left, so he’s not sure which is the better course—to stay or to continue with another boat up to the capital.” Sheila sniffed. Muirne thought she caught a note of impatience in it.
“He’s got plenty of time though. And I’ll keep up the asking.” She smiled at Muirne briefly before taking off her apron and outer dress and rolling under the quilt that she shared with Gillan. At that moment, he stumbled into the little area marked off with their bags and parcels. Muirne smiled back at her mother and nestled into her corner with Sheena.
The Keening Page 13