Oatcakes and Courage (14 page)

“The captain sent it down.”

“For Christina?”

“No, lass, for you. He thought you were that tired, and needed it.”

Anne breathed in the wonderful tea aroma, then sipped it slowly, savouring. She glanced over to their bunk. Rebecca Patterson sat with Katherine.

“She is no better?” Anne asked.

Ian shook his head.

Anne had trouble swallowing the last of her tea. She passed the cup back to Ian with a quiet, “Thank you.” Then she turned to little Christina and lay a hand on her forehead. The child's temperature seemed fine.

“At least she is over the fever,” Anne murmured.

“Aye. Now, would you like a bit of breakfast? I will stay here with the wee one so you can get some air.”

“Nay, if you will just bring something down to me, please, I think I'll stay here. In case she wakes.”

Ian paused to bend and kiss Anne on the cheek. Then he turned and left.

In the quiet of the hold, Anne noticed four other women keeping their silent vigil over a sick companion or loved one.
She sighed and tugged the blanket about Christina's small shoulders.

She stepped over to gaze down upon Katherine. Her friend lay motionless on the bunk, her mahogany hair matted against her sweat-soaked face.

Rebecca whispered, “She thrashed a bit in the night, but since dawn, she has not so much as twitched. I tried to get her to take some water, but couldn't get her to swallow a drop.”

“Let us try together,” Anne suggested.

With Anne holding her shoulders and Rebecca tilting the cup, they managed to wet Katherine's lips, but she could not drink.

Anne bit her lip as she eased her friend back onto the bunk. Rebecca's eyes met hers and she shook her head.

Lily arrived then to relieve Rebecca. She regarded Anne's pinched face and demanded, “Who is sitting with Christina this morning so you can rest, Anne?”

“I… I don't mind….”

“If you get too tired, you'll be the next one we have to nurse. Now, go up on deck and have a proper sleep. Rebecca, please ask Marion to come down. She can be with the child for a while.” When she saw that Anne hesitated, Lily commanded, “Go!”

Anne stumbled up the ladder. Lily was right, Anne knew, as tears flooded her vision. She collapsed on canvas sacking and fell into a troubled sleep.

The few hours of sleep did refresh her a little, and when she returned to Christina in the afternoon, the sight of the little girl awake and alert made her heart warm.

“Well, lass, you are awake,” Anne greeted her.

“Aye,” Christina croaked.

Marion said, “She's had a bit of water, but naught yet to eat.”

“Do you feel hungry?” Anne asked hopefully.

Christina shook her head.

“Well, perhaps by suppertime.”

Marion eased away and Anne sat by the bunk on an overturned bucket. She held the girl's hand.

“Are Mama and Papa angry with me?” Christina whispered.

Anne's eyes opened wide. “Why would you think that, lass?”

“I should never have gone to the mermaid that night. The night of the storm. And then I got sick and made all this trouble….”

“Oh, Christina, nay.” Anne leaned forward and gave her a hug. “Your mama and papa are not angry. They are just worried. Now that you are feeling better, they are right glad.”

“Then where is Mama?” the child wailed.

Anne sat back and looked at Christina sadly. At last she explained, “She's feeling poorly, lass, and needs to rest herself right now. So she asked me to sit with you. Would that be all right for now?”

Christina's eyes were dull but she nodded. Anne hoped she hadn't upset the child. Christina would need all the spirit she could muster to recover.

Anne coaxed some oatcake softened in water into her charge at suppertime. She made sure Christina had the best portion of food that she could find. Then she watched as sleep washed over the little girl.

Anne's next few days were filled with caring for Christina. Christina ate and drank small portions and slowly began to gain strength.

During that time, Katherine's fever ravaged her body; she was rarely conscious.

After a few days, Lily suggested that the little girl be brought up on deck. The fresh air and activity might brighten her up. Hugh came below to carry her up the ladder.

As they made their way past Katherine, Christina twisted in Hugh's arms, pointing at the prone figure on the bunk. She cried out, “Mama! Mama! That's my mama!”

Hugh's lips pressed together. He held his tiny daughter tightly as he hurried up the ladder. Christina was sobbing as
he set her gently on a bed of cloaks near the bow. “Mama, Mama!” she wailed. Hugh held her in his arms and rocked her to and fro.

Elspie rushed over. Hugh's face was grief-stricken as he murmured, “She saw Katherine as I brought her up.”

Elspie sighed and nodded. She knelt by the terrified girl and stroked her red curls and whispered in her ear as Hugh continued to rock her in his arms. Eventually, her sobs subsided and Christina fell into an exhausted sleep.

“Thank you,” Hugh said earnestly to his sister-in-law.

Elspie patted his shoulder. “You are welcome, Hugh. I'll do whatever I can.”

He nodded. “I know. You are a good woman.”

Sorrow marked the day. Later that morning, a Ross youth succumbed to smallpox. Before his funeral prayers were finished, a second child, a six-year-old girl of the Munroe family, passed away. A second funeral was performed before noon.

The following day, Anne did her best to amuse Christina, trying to distract her from worrying over her mother. Anne felt like a fly about a donkey's ears – buzzing around, but accomplishing little except to irritate the girl. Christina ignored her for the most part, drawing within herself.

It was Elspie and her boys, and Janet and Alexa, who finally brought Christina out of her shell. The children frolicked nearby and little by little Christina was drawn into their games. Elspie was always close by to scold and cuddle and laugh, providing Christina the mothering she craved.

Anne realized Christina did not need her. She felt hurt at first, then shook off the resentment as being silly and selfish, and took herself where she was needed. She descended to the hold and settled next to Katherine's bedside.

She was sitting in the dank hold when she heard the lookout shout, “Newfoundland!” This time, there was no jubilation aboard the
Hector
. Superstitious fear swept over the Scots. There were many anxious glances at the western sky and earnest, nervous prayers.

The pox appeared over Katherine's face and limbs that evening. Anne had been quite sure that Katherine had smallpox, but it repulsed her to actually see the welts contort and redden Katherine's pale skin.

As the
Hector
scudded past the Avalon Peninsula of Newfoundland, Lily came below to relieve Anne.

“Is there any hope?” Anne asked plaintively.

Lily shook her head but said, “Where there's life, there is always hope.”

“I feel so helpless. Why is there naught we can do for her? She is a good woman. She does not deserve this.”

Lily grimaced. “Most do not, lass.”

“How do you keep going, Lily? You have nursed so many this voyage and there have been… how many lost? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Why do you think I'm such a cranky old goat?” Lily said, one corner of her lips lifting. “You need a bit of flint in your heart or you go mad from the grief.”

Anne gave a weary smile. She hugged the dour matron and said softly, “I think it's all an act, Lily. I think you are the dearest, most generous soul on this ship.”

Lily blinked rapidly several times and turned her head as if to check on Katherine's blankets. “Off with you, now, to get some food and sleep. I'll expect you back here in a few hours to watch again, mind.”

Anne kissed Lily's cheek as she rose to go above.

She woke to angry words.

“You can't be serious!”

“Well, it is your choice, Mr. Cameron. You can eat this or go hungry. It is all the same to me.” John Sutherland was speaking in a low, controlled voice.

“I do not believe there is naught left but this foul trash!” Alex Cameron yelled.

“Are you calling me a liar, then?” John Sutherland asked, menace creeping into his mild voice.

“I'm saying the captain is keeping the best of the supplies for himself and his pompous mate and he's letting us eat this garbage.”

“There is no more food!” John's voice had risen to a shout. Passengers froze, eyes captured by this hot exchange. “You fool, we have been at sea far longer than was planned for. The storm blew us halfway back to Scotland! These oatcakes that Hugh saved are all that's left!”

A heavy silence hung over the ship.

Alex Cameron blanched, then colour rose in his face, flushing his cheeks and neck a vivid red. His eyes narrowed and he bent his head to glare into John's face. “We'll see about this. You are such grand friends with Hugh MacLeod. Maybe he knows where the decent food is and is eating well while you are handing out this slop to the rest of us.”

John's nostrils flared. His fists clenched. “How dare you accuse –”

“What is all this?” a voice barked. Alex Cameron spun around to find the captain striding up to them.

“Mister Sutherland,” Alex spat, “is trying to tell me that there are no provisions left but these moldy oatcakes, Captain.”

Captain Spiers stood with his back ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back. His face darkened into a scowl.

Alex continued. “There must still be decent foodstuffs aboard, Captain, and I demand to have my share of them. I paid my fare, and I deserve my allotment of daily rations. It is bad enough that we have been cut down to half the share we were promised. And now this!”

John Sutherland glared at Alex Cameron from under his bushy brows. “You get what the rest of us get.”

“And how do I know that there is not a nice little cache of salt meat tucked away for you and your friends?” Alex sneered.

“So,” the captain stated, “Mister Cameron, you feel there is food aplenty hidden away on this ship?”

Alex's eyes shifted from John Sutherland to the captain. He lifted his chin and said, “There must be more than these
miserable foul things.” He gestured to the oatcakes that John held.

“Very well, Mister Cameron. Since you are so convinced, we will allow Mister Sutherland to continue to distribute oatcakes to those who are grateful to have such as this to eat. And you will come below with me. You will search the hold for other provisions and you may partake of any that you find there.”

Alex Cameron shuffled his feet. He regarded the firm set of the captain's jaw. He glanced about at his fellow passengers. Those who would meet his eyes held hard, contemptuous stares.

John nodded to the captain and stepped away, passing out the ration of oatcakes. No one else refused the spoiled food.

Alex Cameron swallowed loudly, causing his Adam's apple to bobble. “Follow me,” the captain commanded. He turned on his heel, headed for the cargo deck.

Alex trailed after him saying, “Uh, perhaps, Captain, I was a bit hasty….”

Without looking over his shoulder, the captain snapped, “Before you think again to call any man on my ship a liar, Mister Cameron, you had best know the facts. And for your supper tonight you will eat only those fine provisions that you find hidden away.”

Alex Cameron had a long and hungry night.

Chapter 12

R
EBECCA
P
ATTERSON OFFERED TO
watch Katherine through the night so both Lily and Anne could get a decent sleep. Anne settled next to Ian on their pile of canvas, but she could not close her eyes. Every time she did, Katherine's ravaged face floated before her. At last she sat up.

Ian pushed himself up on an elbow and regarded her, chin in hand. At last he whispered, “Cannot sleep?”

Anne murmured, “Nay.”

Ian sat up and put his arm around Anne's waist, drawing her near him. Anne let her head drop to his shoulder. The creak of the ropes and the hiss of the waves filled their silence. Then Anne sighed, “What will Hugh do? How will he manage with three little girls, all alone?”

Ian did not answer. There seemed to be none.

“She is a dear woman. Full of kindness. And spirit. A good friend.” Anne brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. “She should not die. Oh, Ian, it's not right that she should die.”

Ian stroked her hair, and kissed the top of her head. He let her cry without interrupting her sorrow with words.

When Anne's tears were spent, Ian took both of her hands in his. He peered at her in the summer night, their only light the reflection of the stars on the smooth waves.

“Anne,” he whispered.

Her eyes met his.

“Anne,” he repeated. He sighed. “I cannot bear the thought that we could be separated. Ever. We have been through so much. I know now that I need you with me. I know you came with me to escape marriage to MacDonald. I know I am naught to you but a friend. But I would like… Oh Anne… If you would have me as your husband….”

His words flooded Anne with joy and overwhelming peace, like a hot drink on a January day. The desire to laugh, to cry, to sing, to shout, bubbled up into her heart.

Courage left Ian. His gaze dropped to the deck. He loosed his hold on her fingers, and began to turn from her.

“Ian,” she whispered urgently. She reached out and placed her palm on his warm cheek. He slowly brought his eyes back to meet hers.

Anne bit her trembling lip, then said, softly but clearly, “I would be so honoured to have you as my husband. You are the most dear, caring man…. How could I go on without you?”

Ian gaped at her a moment, then grabbed her in a bear hug that crushed the air from her. She gasped and threw her arms around his neck. He eased his grip just enough to bring his head down so he could kiss her, warmly, passionately, on the mouth. When his lips touched hers, it was sweet – as sweet as the first crisp, juicy apple in autumn.