The Runaway's Gold (15 page)

For a while I listened eagerly to her tales of Lerwick and what she knew of Ireland and the family she had never known, and then me eyes grew heavy. It must have been well past midnight when I finally nodded off, only to be jolted awake moments later by her head dropping onto me shoulder. At first afraid to exhale for fear I'd disturb her, I glanced at the delicate contour of her gently closed eyelids, unable to remember a moment when I had been so thrilled and so terrified at the same time. For the next hour, the damp sand pressing uncomfortably into me bones, I sat alert, not daring to move for fear of interrupting the gentle breath at me shoulder.

The wind was picking up and a bank of clouds was moving away from the moon when I thought I saw the faint outline of a ship in the sound. And then, almost immediately, I heard voices coming from the lodberry.

“Mary,” I whispered, gently nudging her awake. “I think I see her.”

She looked at first as if she didn't know where she was, then shyly pulled away. “I must have dozed off.”

I leaned forward, pointing to the silhouette of a packet dropping her sail, and then sprang to me feet. “It's the
Ernestine Brennan
, all right! Do you hear the voices on the lodberry?”

We crept across the street, finding the door now unlatched, and slipped inside. It was a large, nearly empty space. In the moonlight, through the windows facing the water, we could see the shadows of several men standing on the ramp.

“They're waiting to unload,” Mary whispered as we watched a yoal loaded with casks row toward the lodberry from the ship. Then, suddenly, from the corner of me eye I saw a small, wiry man spring in front of me and grab Mary from behind.

“Leave her!” I shouted as he wrapped his bulging, tattooed arms tightly around her waist. But as I lunged at him, another pair pulled me back.

“What're you two doin' creepin' round at this time a' night?”

I wrenched me head to see the bearded face of a broad-chested man. He wore a knitted cap pulled down to his bushy eyebrows, his breath hot on me neck.

“I can explain!” Mary cried.

“Hah!” the wiry man exclaimed, slapping his hand over her mouth. “And you'll do just that when we're through with ye!”

Her eyes were wide with fear as I struggled toward her.

“You're making a mistake,” I cried. “We mean no harm!”

But before I could say more, the man with the cap slapped a wet, calloused hand over me mouth.

I twisted and squirmed as Mary stamped her boots down on the wiry man's feet and kicked at his shins.

“A fighter, are ye?” he sneered. “We'll see about that when we get these barrels unloaded. For now we need you nice and quiet.”

A third man appeared, gagging us with tattered rags that tasted of rotting fish. Then he bound our wrists and ankles before dragging us against the wall behind the door.

“We'll be back for you when we're done,” he snarled. The three of them turned to rejoin the other men on the pier.

For what seemed like hours we struggled, rubbing the ropes around our wrists together in hopes of loosening the knots, all the while listening to the grunts and groans as the men silently unloaded the casks of gin rowed in from the
Ernestine Brennan
. Then we heard them haul cask after cask up from a small opening in the floor of the Marwick Lodberry, of what we assumed was Marwick's special cargo bound for Belfast.

Why hadn't I insisted we go back to Hillhead? Perhaps if I had told Reverend Sill all of what had happened that night in the broch, he might have helped. Now there was no going back, no chance of escape.

Then a new voice broke the silence—and the minute Mary heard it, it was as if she had been stung by a swarm of bees. “Where's Mr. Marwick? He was to send instructions.” It came from a young man, I surmised, his words clear and direct. As he continued to speak, she somehow propelled herself up and started awkwardly hopping on her bound feet toward the door to the ramp.

The bearded man grunted. “Ain't no one here, sir.”

I couldn't get meself up, so I shimmied like a worm in Mary's direction, splinters catching the seat of Charles's fine wool breeks.

“Just some intruders snoopin' round the place before ya arrived,” the man continued.

“Intruders?”

“Aye—a lass and lad is all. Tryin' ta pinch from yer master's store. Seen too much of this operation for their own good—I'll get rid of 'em, sir, once you're back aboard.”

Just then, Mary lost her balance and crashed loudly against the wall.

“Lor', man—you don't have them secured?” the young man scolded. “Do you have any idea the value of the cargo we're picking up?” He burst through the door, but as he flung himself across the threshold, he tripped over Mary and landed face-first on her chest.

“It canna be!” he cried, staring at her, his face ashen. Then he scrambled to his feet and scooped her bound body high in his arms. “Mary—what are you doing here?”

“Ye know 'er, sir?” the bearded man growled.

“Lor', man! That's me sister!”

The wiry man looked about nervously as Charles Canfield pulled a knife from his belt, cut her gag, and sliced through her ropes.

“I'm here to warn you and Uncle!” she sputtered, spitting the remains of the foul-tasting cloth from her mouth. “But this brute of a man gagged me before I had a chance.”

As she quickly explained the troubles with Marwick, the bearded man cut me ropes, thinking, I'm sure, that I, too, might be someone with whom he should take care.

“Lor', lass, we've no time to lose!” Charles said. He took no notice of me as he quickly ushered her out to the small boat loaded with casks waiting at the edge of the ramp. “This is our last load. We'll row you back to the ship to Uncle, while these men make fast work of stashing the gin we're leaving behind.”

“But Midder! Oh, Charles—I must confess, she doesn't know I'm here,” Mary said as I watched silently in the doorway.

Charles looked at her, aghast, shaking his head. “Well, there's no helping it now. I can't leave you with the streets as you say they are. Uncle will find a way to get you back to shore by morning if we can get safely south of the Customs House.”

Only then did he look in me direction.

“Who's that? And—is that me coat he's wearing?”

“I can explain,” I said, inching toward them.

“Aye. And you'll do more than that!” Charles said.

“She's come to no harm. I've seen to that.”

“No harm? What do you call being bound and gagged? If I hadn't come upon you, there's no tellin' what these men would have done with her!”

“Charles, please,” Mary said. And she looked at me. “His name is Christopher Robertson. He's a friend. I asked him to wait with me.”

Charles's eyes darted between mine and Mary's. Then he helped her gently into the yoal, and beckoned me to the edge of the ramp.

“When this business is attended to,” he said, stepping aboard, bobbing with the ebb and flow of the sea, “I'll be back. And if I find you've been a threat to me sister—”

“Mr. Canfield, sir,” a tall, ruddy-faced man sitting at the oars interrupted. “The captain's flashed the signal ten minutes ago.”

“Aye, Mr. McNutt,” Charles said. And as the yoal moved away from the lodberry, loaded with the last of Marwick's secret cargo, I saw the sails of the
Ernestine Brennan
unfurling in the moonlight in anticipation of a rapid departure. “Remember me words, Robertson. Because I won't forget.”

Me throat tightened, a dull ache spreading through me chest as I watched Mary disappear in the night. Behind me, I heard the grunts and groans of the men quickly moving the newly unloaded casks of gin down a trapdoor in the lodberry.

“She's a bonnie lass, Brother,” a voice said. “You've done well for yourself this first trip to Lerwick.”

John's gaunt face stared back in the moonlight. He was leaning against a cask of gin, his hands resting casually at his
hips. In the excitement of the evening I had almost forgotten it was he whom I had been looking for.

For a moment I nearly smiled, basking in the familiar warm features of his face—the immediate comfort of seeing someone from home. And then everything that had happened the night before came rushing back to me. How I waited in the broch for the signal that never came. The faces of me sisters thinking me a thief. The letter.

“The Devil be with ye, John Robertson!” I cried.

“Easy now, lad. Is that any way to greet your own flesh and blood?”

“Flesh and blood, is it? And the letter you left Daa? Was that your way of looking out for your brother?”

“Come, now. How else was I going to buy the time I needed to get to Skeld? Someone had to get those coins out of the Ol' Cod's hands.”

“And accuse me a' doing the stealing? What kind of brother does something so dark?”

“Och—I knew a lad as smart as you'd get away in good time. And see—I was right. Here you are, surrounded by casks of Dutch gin and wearing the clothes of a gentleman.”

So it was true! As much as I had told meself that there had to be an explanation, that he could never do such a thing—he
had
meant to betray me. I'd been his pawn all along. “Had Daa found me, he'd have beaten me to a pulp and sent me straight to the sheriff. It was pure luck I slipped away when I did.”

John's nose twitched, eyes darting from left to right. “And
let's not forget what you did to Mr. Peterson's ewe, lad,” he said. “I warned you that night in the broch.”

I quickly looked away.

“Cheer up, Chris. We've made it. Finally broken free! I had it worked out all along. Just a few more days and we'll have the cash we need to buy passage to America.”

“What? And leave Catherine and Victoria here to starve?” I bellowed, charging at his bony chest. “I've had enough of your schemes, John Robertson! Now hand over that pouch!”

But, as always, he was too quick, grabbing me wrists the moment I got near and slamming me hard against the rough stone wall of the lodberry.

“Keep it down, lads,” warned the wiry man who had attacked Mary. Then he shoved John aside and locked his tattooed arms tightly around me neck. “You'll alert the Revenue Men and get us all tossed in Lerwick Prison before we get the Dutch goods below!”

John nodded, his expression cool. “Understood. I'll keep him quiet.” But when the man finally released me and moved back to work, a mischievous smile erupted on John's face. Then he nodded to the top of a cask by his side. “Why don't you just take it?”

It was the pouch! Lying in the moonlight. But the moment me fingers touched the soft, worn leather, a powerful blow knocked me to me knees.

“Ain't yers to take,” growled the bearded man with the knitted cap. Then he drove his boot into me gut with such force
that I wondered if he had split me insides. “This lad's paid for his share fair and square,” he said, stuffing the pouch in his breeks. “Marwick's first customer of the evenin'.”

“You spent it—
all
?” I gasped, doubled over in pain. “On smuggled gin?”

“Aye—and at the price of my liking,” John said with a wry smile. “But don't worry yourself, Brother. Seems Marwick's more desperate for cash than I thought. And this island's so desperate for hooch I already have a customer. You remember Murdoch Bairnstrom—Lord Cummingsburgh's factor? He's already on his way.”

Rage quickly replaced the agony in me head and side. In an instant I gathered every bit of strength I had left and hurled me hands to his neck, remembering too late how his strength and agility had always surpassed mine. It took but a single jolt of his knee to me gut and he had me face-first onto the hard, cold ramp. For a moment I saw nothing, the pain too unbearable, blood dripping from me nose. And then, as his tattered rivlins came into focus, I clamped me hands onto his ankles.

Once, twice, I yanked—until he toppled down beside me. Then we rolled—scratching, hitting, and kicking—so close to the edge that I thought we might both fall into the sea. It wasn't until I heard the sound of Charles Canfield's fine woolen jacket rip and felt the piercing force of John's teeth cut into the flesh of me shoulder that I screamed in agony. But when I turned and saw the thick-soled boot at me cheek, it was already too late.

Malcolm MacPherson

nut Blackbeard grunted. “Them's the brothers I been tellin' you about, Sheriff Nicolson.” He raised a lantern over John and me as we lay entangled on the ramp.