Doctor Who: The Highlanders (13 page)

Trask’s face fell for a moment as he saw his old adversary. Then he leaped forward, raising the cutlass and swinging it in a blow that had it landed would have taken Willy’s head from his shoulders. But Willy, stepping back, handed the lantern to Jamie and brought his own sword up.

‘Keep back, lads, he’s mine,’ called Willy.

The Highlanders watched as the two men, their swords flashing as they sought an opening in the narrow deck space, fell to in furious combat.

Meanwhile, Jamie ran to the companionway and, sword in one hand, lantern in the other, turned to the others.

‘Follow me, lads,’ he said. ‘The fight’s not over yet.’ He clambered up and out onto the deck, followed by the Highlanders.

Willy, weakened by his long confinement, was getting the worst of the fight. He appeared to falter, and his cutlass dropped.

Trask lunged forward eagerly. ‘I have you now,’ he said.

But Willy, with a flick of the wrist, knocked Task’s cutlass up and stabbed home in Trask’s shoulder.

‘I’m relieving you of your command, Captain Trask,’ he said.

But the large, fearsome Trask was not yet done for. His cutlass slashed Willy’s arm. ‘Not yet,’ he said. As Willy fell back wounded, Trask ran for the companionway and the deck.

Up on deck, Jamie and the Highlanders were fighting the sailors of the
Annabelle
. They had now cornered them on the poop. Two sailors lay dead, and one Highlander was nursing his wounds on the skylight, when Trask appeared.

‘To me, boys,’ he called. ‘I’m still master here.’

Ben appeared from behind the mast. ‘Not for long, mate,’ he said.

Trask reacted for a moment at the apparition of someone he considered dead. ‘You?’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure of thee this time, boy.’

He raised his cutlass just as Jamie swung over the poop on the end of a rope and with all his force kicked Trask over the side of the
Annabelle
into the dark waiting waters.

‘Ah,’ said Ben, a little disappointed. ‘I was gonna try my karate on him.’

‘What?’ said Jamie.

‘Karate,’ said Ben.

‘Och,’ Jamie turned away. ‘Whatever that is, it would not have worked against that monster.’

The wounded Willy MacKay had now appeared on deck, his arm bound. ‘Where’s Trask?’ he called.

Jamie pointed over the side. ‘In the firth.’

Willy nodded. ‘Good man.’ He called out to the men still struggling on the deck. ‘Hold hard! Stop fighting, all of ye.’

The Highlanders drew back. The sailors reluctantly lowered their swords. ‘Listen men,’ he said. Willy hauled himself up the ladder to the poop. ‘I need sailors. We’re sailing to France by the morning tide. Who’ll volunteer?’

There was a moment’s hesitation on the part of the sailors then, realizing that they had little option, one man after another stepped forward.

Willy nodded, satisfied. ‘Good lads,’ he said. ‘Mind ye, if ye hadna volunteered you’d’ve had a long cold swim for it.

Right,’ he said, ‘away wi’ye. Make ready, we sail in an hour.’

The Doctor now appeared: walking over to the rail, he looked down and signalled, then helped Polly and Kirsty up on the deck.

Kirsty ran over to Colin, who was leaning, still a little weak from his wound, against the mast. While Kirsty hugged her father, Polly, much to Ben’s embarrassment, flung her arms around the Doctor and Ben.

‘’Ere,’ said Ben, ‘leave off, Pol.’

‘I won’t,’ said Polly, kissing him on the cheek. ‘We won, we won.’

‘For the moment,’ said the Doctor.

‘What do you mean, Doctor?’ said Polly. None of them noticed Jamie standing beside them listening intensely.

‘Don’t you see, Pol,’ said Ben, ‘the real job’s just starting. We’ve got to get back to the TARDIS with only a rough idea where it is, and the whole British army out looking for us.’

‘What are we going to do then?’ said Polly, a little dashed.

‘Get ashore before they cast anchor, right Doctor?’

The Doctor nodded, then went over to Willy and Colin.

If the others had been looking, they would have seen Jamie turn and disappear over the side of the brig.

Willy, once more the master on his own deck, was preparing the
Annabelle
for her voyage. ‘Stand by the capstan,’ he called. He pointed to a knot of Highlanders who were watching uncertainly. ‘You men help them.’

Aided by the Highland prisoners, the crew started raising the anchor slowly.

The Doctor tapped Willy on the shoulder. ‘We must return ashore now,’ he said.

‘Do what you will, man,’ said Willy impatiently. He turned. ‘Stand by the halyards,’ he called, then looked up to where the remaining crew were unfurling the large square sails of the brig.

The Doctor went over to where Colin and Kirsty were standing. Beside them, held at swordpoint, Perkins and Grey were sitting on the skylight. The little clerk was looking around anxiously, but Grey, as aloof as ever, seemed unperturbed by the complete change in his fortunes.

The Doctor turned as Colin came over to them. ‘What will we do with the prisoners here?’ – indicating Perkins and the solicitor.

The Doctor looked. ‘I think we’ll take Solicitor Grey along with us, as a hostage.’

‘And Perkins?’ said Colin.

Perkins, hearing his name, jumped up. ‘Oh, Laird,’ he said to Colin, ‘may I have converse with you?’

‘Ye are,’ said Colin.

‘I beg of you,’ said Perkins, ‘do not send me ashore with that man.’ He pointed to Grey. ‘If you go to France, you’ll need a secretary. Especially’ – he drew himself up to his full five foot four inches – ‘one familiar with the French tongue.’

Colin laughed at the self-important little man. ‘Shifting with the wind now, are ye, ye rogue.’ He turned. ‘Well Doctor, what do you think?’

‘Can any of your people speak French?’ said the Doctor.

Colin shook his head. ‘But little, I’m afraid,’ he said.

‘Then use him,’ said the Doctor, ‘I’ve no doubt he’ll be loyal enough.’

Perkins, immensely relieved, started rubbing his hands.

‘Oh sir, I will, I will.’

‘Until the wind shifts again,’ said the Doctor.

He turned back to Colin. ‘We must go.’ He looked over at the Highlanders guarding Grey. ‘Set him over the side in that boat.’

Grey glared at Perkins, and stood up. The little man turned, raised his stubby fingers, and snapped them in the solicitor’s face. ‘Mr Grey, sir, I have always wanted to do that. You’ve no idea the pleasure that gave me.’ But the cold glare of Grey’s eyes made him back away, as the solicitor was led to the rail and helped over the side into the waiting boat.

With Ben at the oars, the boat sped across the waters to the waiting wharf. As they reached it, they looked back at the dark shape of the brig.

‘I can’t even see the ship now,’ said Polly.

‘They’re going to signal to us just before they go.’ He looked. ‘There it is.’

A small pinpoint of light waved briefly across the estuary and then vanished.

‘I wish Jamie had said goodbye to us,’ said Polly. ‘I looked for him, but he disappeared. This is what Kirsty gave me as a parting present.’ She held up a small silver thistle brooch. ‘I’m really going to miss them,’ she said.

‘Do you think they’ll beat the English blockade?’

The Doctor nodded. ‘The fog will help them.’ Then he shook his head ruefully. ‘More than it’ll help us. We’ve a long, hard journey back to the TARDIS across the Highlands. I don’t know how we’re ever going to find our way.’

As he spoke, a plaid bundle in the bow of the boat was flung back, and Jamie’s face appeared. ‘I’ll guide you,’ he said.

‘Jamie!’ Polly called, delighted.

‘Why didn’t you go with the others?’ said Ben.

‘Let’s say I fancy mah chances here better.’

‘How did you know where we were going,’ said Ben, suspiciously.

‘I listened to ye,’ said Jamie.

The Doctor nodded and smiled. ‘We’re very glad to have you with us, Jamie.’

‘Won’t you be in danger here, though?’ said Polly.

‘Och, if you can survive here, then so can I.’

They clambered ashore heaving the solicitor, his arms now effectively bound with cord by Ben, across the jetty.

‘Now, back to the barn...’ began the Doctor, then froze as the unmistakable sound of marching men came to them.

‘It’s an English patrol,’ said Ben. ‘Quick.’ He looked around. ‘In here.’ Pulling Grey with them, they opened the door of a boathouse at the end of the jetty and hurried inside. The boathouse was dark and smelled strongly of fish. They could just make out the dark shapes of a row of upturned boats as they crouched down, hardly daring to breathe as the marching feet came nearer.

Polly peered through a small crack in the door. Outside she could make out a squad of red-coated soldiers, led by a sergeant with a lantern.

‘Right,’ the sergeant turned to his men. ‘You two,’ he pointed to the soldiers in the leading rank, ‘you stay here and keep a watch for escaping rebels. They may try to get across to the boats out in the firth.’ The sergeant turned and looked down along the empty jetty. ‘Strange,’ he said,

‘I could have sworn there was a sentry mounted here when I came by earlier.’ He turned back. ‘Right about turn, quick march.’ The soldiers marched off.

Ben straightened up. ‘Have they gone?’ he said.

Polly turned. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘they’ve left two men here.’

At that moment, Grey, seeing his chance, called out,

‘Help me!’ he cried. ‘Help!’

Ben, who had shifted his hand off the solicitor’s mouth, now clamped it back on again. But the damage was done.

The two sentinels who had been making themselves comfortable on one of the pair of bollards rose to their feet and looked suspiciously over at the boathouse.

‘They’ve heard us,’ said Polly. ‘They’re coming this way.’

The two soldiers moved cautiously over towards the boathouse. One turned to the other. ‘What d’you think, Bill,’ he said.

‘Dunno,’ said his mate, ‘could have been a cat, I suppose.’

‘Well, we’d better find out,’ said the other one, and they opened the door of the boathouse.

The soldiers entered, muskets and bayonets at the ready, and looked around. All they could see was the long row of upturned boats, like huge black beetles.

‘Nothing here, Bill.’ They turned to go just as Grey, twisting out of Ben’s grasp, called, ‘Rebels, watch yourselves.’

The soldiers turned around just as Ben and Jamie, who’d been waiting in the dark, each flung themselves on to a soldier. Taken unawares in their cumbersome uniforms, the soldiers were no match for Ben and Jamie, and both were quickly overpowered – Jamie with his dirk held at his man’s throat, Ben with his soldier face down on the ground and the man’s hand held up behind him in a strong half-nelson grip.

Suddenly Polly screamed. ‘The window,’ she called.

They turned to look, but it was too late, their captive had gone. Ben dashed towards the door, picking up one of the soldier’s muskets, but the Doctor stopped him.

‘No Ben, you’ll bring all the guards down upon us. Let him go.’

Ben turned to the Doctor. ‘But he was our hostage, wasn’t he? We could have used him to get us safely back to the TARDIS.’

The Doctor nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, then he smiled.

‘We’ll just have to find someone else.’ He turned to Polly.

‘Won’t we, Polly?’

Polly looked blank and then, catching on, smiled back at the Doctor.

16

Algernon Ffinch was sitting outside the officers’ quarters of the main British army barracks in Inverness. Leaning back against the doorpost, his face flushed with wine, he was half asleep, but trying to keep awake. He had returned seeking his bed, only to run into the Honourable Colonel Attwood, his commander, who was getting together a four for whist. The Colonel’s request was the same as a command. When Colonel Attwood wanted to play whist, you sat down and played with him, and took your losses like a man. Otherwise, the next time a chance of promotion came your way, you were apt to be forgotten in favour of some more accommodating officer. Now, just as he was dropping off, he suddenly felt something hard and cold touch his temple. His eyes opened, he turned to see Ben standing there with a pistol, half-concealed with his coat, at the Lieutenant’s head.

‘What the –’ he began.

‘We want your company, mate,’ said Ben.

A familiar voice came from behind Algernon. ‘I know you won’t refuse me, Algy.’

‘Oh no.’ Algernon turned. There was Polly, smiling sweetly, her hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh, this is r-r-really too much,’ he said.

‘Quickly,’ said Polly, ‘this way.’

The Doctor, standing beside Polly, reached out his hand and helped Algernon, still half stupefied with wine, to his feet and started to lead him away just as a tall, red-faced man with grey hair and a fierce military moustache appeared at the door: the redoubtable, Honourable Colonel Attwood. He also was flushed with drink, and held a pack of cards in his hand. ‘Damne man, where the devil do you think you’re going?’

Algernon, despite his fuddled state, snapped to attention. ‘Colonel,’ he said.

‘Have you forgotten man, it’s your deal, Ffinch,’ he said indignantly. He held up the pack of cards.

‘Y-yes,’ said Algernon. ‘B-but...’

The Colonel raised the lorgnette dangling from his lapel and inspected Polly, Ben, and the Doctor. ‘And who are these vagabonds?’

The Doctor bowed very low, putting on his German accent. ‘Doctor von Verner, at your service, Colonel.

Remedies for the ague, warts, the twitch, the colic, and...’

he glanced down at the Colonel’s slippered feet, ‘for the gout, sir.’

The Colonel leaned back, a little overwhelmed by all this. ‘Gout, man? I haven’t got gout.’

The Doctor rushed on quickly. ‘But that’s not why I’m here, sir. Oh no, I wouldn’t waste your time with that. A fine healthy gentleman like yourself. It’s just, this ring, you see, sir...’ He held up the Prince’s ring.

Algernon, his fuddled thoughts clearing, now saw an opportunity to get away from the Doctor without compromising himself. ‘Uh, perhaps,’ he coughed, ‘we’d better get back to the game, sir. The night air, you know, and all that.’