Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
H eart hammering hard against his ribcage, Maxwell silently got to his feet. If they were Sutherland’s men he was hearing, this refuge would prove to be their undoing, for there was no escape route from the small rock shelter. Aileen stirred beside him and he pressed a finger to her lips before she could speak. Making sure there was no light from the fire to betray their position, he signaled to Aileen to remain where she was while he crept out of their hiding place and looked around.
Not far off he spied a group of four men warming their hands at a fire they’d built further along the path. He heard raucous laughter and the murmur of voices, the occasional ribald shout and more laughter. Clearly, the men were enjoying a session of story-telling. Could these be the men who were tracking them? If they were, they were making enough of a ruckus to alert their quarry to their presence.
He peered closely, his eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. It was then he realized there were two small boats pulled alongside onto the narrow stretch of shoreline. Straining his ears, he picked up enough of the conversation to understand that these rough and ready fellows were fishermen. Their conversation concerned their exploits on their fishing trip that day.
He breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed back to where Aileen waited anxiously.
“’Tis naught tae fear, lass. These are some of the fishermen I was hoping we’d come across.”
Aileen stepped away from their hiding place and peered at the men. “Boats? They’ve got fishing boats?”
“Aye. And mayhap they’d be ready tae exchange some of yer gold fer one of the boats.”
She huffed quietly. “These are boats fer weans. Three of them could fit on me birlinn.”
“Aye,” he gave a wry chuckle. “Dinnae forget we’re nay pirates now, Aileen. But soon to be two wee fisherfolk needing to cross the sea to the islands. These craft are sturdy enough and the two of us can manage. A light sail, an oar to steer. One such tiny boat gives us a chance to be out of here without being seen.”
“I’ll give the fisherman nay more than a single gold coin for such a vessel.”
Maxwell laughed to himself. They were not in any position to haggle and he expected the fishermen would see that clear enough. They’d drive a hard bargain.
They approached the group of fishermen hopeful that they’d find agreement and be on their way before long.
Despite the lure of gold, the man held fast. Not one of the four were interested in selling their craft. They all voiced exactly the same concerns. Without their boat, their livelihood would be gone.
One of the men, who told them his name was Raso Mackenzie, made it clear when Aileen offered up the contents of her purse.
“Lass, I cannae eat yer gold. If I dinnae catch fish fer me and me children, we’ll have naught in our bellies.”
Maxwell nodded. “Och lad, I understand. Yet we’re in sore need of a wee boat tae take us back tae the small islands. Is there a body among the fisherfolk who has nay need of his boat? A grey-beard, whose sailing days are done?”
Jacob, one of the other men nodded. “There’s old Davie. He’s nae sailing now. Mayhap he’d welcome some coin.”
Raso addressed Maxwell and Aileen. “We’ll be out fishing again today so we’ll nae be here tae guide ye. Just ask anyone ye see fer Auld Davie’s cottage and they’ll tell ye. He bides wi’ his daughter and her husband and weans.”
By now the sky was streaked with the light of the coming dawn, so they thanked the fishermen and set off along the shore in search of Auld Davie. Before long they arrived at a tiny cottage where a young fair-haired woman was out front with a tub, sleeves rolled up, washing. She had two youngsters beside her, one of them little more than a babe.
She nodded when they asked her about the old fisherman and pointed further along the track. “Mayhap a mile or so along ye’ll see another path. Follow the right fork. Auld Davie lives along that way, not far. Ye’ll pass two cottages before ye get to his.” She aimed a cheerful smile at Maxwell. “Since ye’re here and ye look like a strong lad. Can ye gi’ me a hand wi’ this?” She hauled a thick wool coat out of the washing tub. “Me man’s been minding cattle and his coat’s fair soiled, needing a good soak in the tub.”
Maxwell took the coat and twisted it to wring out the water. “Where d’ye wish me tae put it now?”
She directed him to a sturdy shrub by the front of the cottage that was, by now, catching the first of the sun’s rays. He draped the coat across the branches.
“Thank ye,” She wiped her hands on her pinny and picked up the smallest of her two weans. “If ye tell Davie that Jeannie sent ye, he’ll look on ye kindly.”
They trudged on along the path, Maxwell grumbling. “By all that’s holy, I thought we’d be gone by now.” He ran fingers of frustration through his long hair. “I was counting on us being well ahead of any pursuers. This is putting paid tae that faint hope.”
Aileen shook her head. “It is what it is, Maxwell. Ye cannae make the world turn the way ye wish it.”
He gave a wry laugh. “And there I was believing things would go my way, just by wishing.”
She grew serious for a moment. “Dinnae fash. Even if Sutherland’s wee sailors are chasing us, we’ll give them a run fer it. They’ll be hard pressed tae catch us in one of those wee sail boats. They’ll be like a slow-moving draught horse trying to catch a wee wasp buzzing around its head.”
Taking her hand in his, he held it to his lips. “Aye, me pirate queen. With ye in charge of sailing, they’ll have the devil’s job tae catch us.”
No one was visible at the first two cottages they passed and they assumed the occupants must have been busy elsewhere. Mayhap the men were at sea and the women and weans were out foraging fer wild greens for their soup, or a rabbit fer the pot.
Their hopes rose as they spied the smoke spiraling from the peat roof of the third cottage along the track. They had even further reason to hope when they caught sight of an elderly man enjoying the morning sun, puffing on his clay pipe, seated on a bench outside the cottage.
He looked up as they approached and addressed a greeting to Maxwell. “Good-day t’ye lad. Ye’re addressing Davie Munro.”
Maxwell toyed briefly with the notion of introducing them as the Turnbulls, English merchants but dropped that idea on the basis that it was too ridiculous to contemplate. Both of them were more than bedraggled after so many days and nights on the road. And besides, what on earth would an Englishman be doing in this remote place where all English were looked on with distrust, if not open hostility?”
“Good-day Grandfather. ‘Tis a fine sunny morning. I trust ye are well. Me name is Maxwell MacNeil and this lass is Aileen McAlpin. We were directed here by a lass named Jennie.”
The old man took another puff, narrowing his eyes as he looked the pair up and down.
“Are ye one of the MacNeil’s from Barra?”
Maxwell nodded. Having said his name, the old man could readily identify Maxwell’s clan and where they resided. He hitched a breath while the old man squinted at Aileen.
“And ye, lass. Are ye one of the family of rogues that still live on the Small Isle, Canna?”
“Aye. Ye’re right. And ‘tis to Barra and Canna we wish to return with all speed.”
He turned his attention back to Maxwell. “So, what is a MacNeil doing here, such a great distance from yer home?”
Maxwell tried to explain, but as the story wore on the old man’s eyelids began to droop.
“Can ye nay cut a long story short?” Davie interjected.
Maxwell cleared his throat. “We wish to return to the islands but we’ve lost our ship in a storm. We’re hoping to purchase a wee boat tae take us tae the isles. I was told ye might have one tae sell.”
Aileen rattled the coin in her purse at the mention of the word ‘sell’.
Auld Davie’s rheumy eyes opened wide. “Aye. I’ve a wee boat. I’ve nay sailed it fer a while, but my son-in-law takes it out now and again and keeps it seaworthy. He has his own boat and it would dae nae harm fer me tae sell. I ken the lad would be glad fer some coin in the family.”
“So, you can sell it tae us?” Maxwell failed to keep the desperation out of his voice.
The old man eyed Aileen’s purse. “Fer a fair price, lad. I’m an old man but I’ve nae lost me wits. Especially when I’m dealing with the likes of rogues and pirates.”
Aileen huffed an indignant breath. “We’ll pay ye well, Auld Davie. Dinnae fash.”
The canny old man responded with a hint of a grin. “What will ye offer?”
Maxwell stepped in. “We can pay ye nay more than half the gold in this purse.”
Aileen looked at him aghast at the offer. She was ready to spend the morning haggling, but Maxwell was set on a quick purchase. “I insist we see the wee boat before we spend so much as one coin. We’ve nay more than yer word she’s seaworthy. The sea is wide and oftentimes rough. We need a boat that’s bonny enough tae sail us safely home.”
Maxwell nodded, pleased with her practical approach. “Will ye come wi’ us to where yer boat is moored so we can inspect?”
Davie shook his head, reaching for his walking stick. “I dinnae walk too far these days, lad. I’ll get me daughter Sheonagh tae take ye down.” He bellowed, “Sheonagh!” and a pretty dark-haired lass clad in a plain brown kirtle and tunic appeared in the entrance to the cottage.
“What is it, Da?”
“This is Maxwell MacNeil.” The girl turned to Maxwell with a nod. “And this lass is Aileen McAlpin.” This garnered a smile directed at Aileen. “They wish tae pay me gold fer me wee sailboat if she passes inspection. Can ye walk them tae the shore and show it tae them?”
“If ye can keep an eye on the two weans, Da. They’re both sleeping fer now.”
Auld Davie nodded. “Aye lass.” He collected his walking stick and hobbled over to the door.
“Now mind ye play fair.” He looked sternly at Maxwell. “Ye’ve offered half yer purse and I’ll nae accept less. There’s tae be nae haggling and settling fer less if ye dinnae care fer the look of the boat. She’s sound. She’ll sail ye tae the islands on a smooth sea.”
Sheonagh appeared, pulling her cloak across her shoulders. “Aye, Da. I’ll nae accept less.”
With Sheonagh in the lead, they retraced their steps back to the shore where, earlier, they’d seen a number of small craft moored.
“Here it is.”
The little boat appeared seaworthy enough. The bottom was dry. One or two planks on the hull had obvious patches but when these were examined closely, they appeared watertight.
“Unfurl the sail.” Aileen’s voice held a note of command that made Maxwell smile to himself. The pirate queen was planning to sail again.
Again, several patches were evident, but after Aileen had appraised them carefully, she declared they would not hamper the craft from flying ahead of the wind.
Once the inspection had been carried out, Maxwell was impatient for them to close the sale and be on their way. The sun had passed midday and there were but few hours of daylight remaining.
He turned his attention to the small bench lying athwart the boat, where one oar rested. “There’s but one oar?” His heart sank. Now they’d have to go in search of an oar. Something no sensible fisherman would be inclined to part with. The chances of them getting away were fading into the far blue distance.
Sheonagh obviously discerned his anxiety. She chuckled. “Dinnae fash, lad. As me Da said, he’s nae lost his wits. Without the oar the boat’s as good as useless, so he’s kept it at the cottage. If ye pay me the gold I’ll accompany ye back there where he’ll hand it tae ye.”
“Aye. I kent he was a canny old lad.” There was admiration in his voice and he made a mental note that if they found it necessary to go ashore, he’d make certain the oars were well-hidden. Then they set off for Auld Davie’s cottage once again.
This time the sale was completed in quick time. Aileen had already handed Sheonagh over half the contents of her purse in gold coins and now Davie handed over the oars.
Their business done, Sheonagh and Davie wished them Godspeed as they hastened off, heading to the shore once again.
Once they’d stepped aboard the tiny boat, Maxwell took his place at the oars and Aileen tended the sail. It was not long before they were on the water, the sails filling with the stiff breeze and, keeping the shoreline close enough, they made their way through the Loch heading toward the open sea.
And, if their luck held, onward to their destination.
While Maxwell toiled over the oars, Aileen kept her eye on the expanse of blue sky above. The sun would soon be setting and if they kept to their easterly direction, they could well almost reach the open sea by nightfall.
“’Tis close to a full moon, MacNeil. If we keep sailing through the night, we’ll be well on the way by morning.”
He groaned. “Ye’re a cruel captain. D’ye expect really expect me tae row through the night?”
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll grant ye a short rest.”
“And I’ve had naught in me belly since the last of our berry tarts last evening. Cannae we pull in somewhere and get some supplies?”
“Mayhap that would be the very place we’d find our enemies waiting tae trap us.”
He sighed a loud sigh. “Ye’re right, lass. Methinks we’d best sail right past the last inn. Just pray that the grumbling of my empty belly doesnae give us away.”
It was a relief for them both when just on dusk they spotted several fires on the shore where they could see silhouetted a number of people, children, dogs and cooking pots in what appeared to be a communal feast. They pulled the boat in and stepped ashore, Maxwell in the lead.
As they drew closer to the group, Maxwell raised a hand in greeting and one of the older men got to his feet and strolled over, greeting them with a friendly smile.
“I’m Rab Mackenzie, celebrating the marriage of me niece Eufemia tae young Colin Boid.” He met Maxwell’s gaze nervously. “We have the laird’s permission tae take one of his sheep.”
Maxwell was familiar with the custom among some of the clans for the laird to make a gift of a sheep or a deer from his estate to his tenants on the occasion of a wedding.
“Congratulations tae the family.” He shook the man’s outstretched hand. “Ye’ve nae call tae fash lad. I’m nae here on behalf of the Mackenzie. Merely a traveler in search of a means tae fill his belly. We…” he indicated Aileen who was in the shadow behind him. “…saw yer fire and heard ye celebrating and thought we might spare us a bite or two. We can offer ye a gold coin in return.”
Once Maxwell had introduced himself and Aileen, Rab’s welcome was wholehearted. “Join us. ‘Tis good luck tae welcome strangers tae a wedding and treat them tae Highland hospitality.” When they joined the large group of people, they learned these were the extended family members and closest friends of the bride and groom. Some were fisherfolk and others were shepherds and cattle minders. There was a cauldron of shellfish stew bubbling over the fire and they were roasting a sheep over the coals. The feast was being washed down with lashings of ale and hot mead.
They followed Rab across to the beaming bride and groom who were pleased to welcome them to their wedding feast. Aileen presented them with a few of her precious gold pieces as a wedding gift and their smiles widened. She tucked the now almost empty purse away under her belt.
Before long, Maxwell and Aileen were seated among the throng, eating their fill and drinking the bride’s and groom’s health. Many a toast and tipsy cries of “ Slàinte Mhath ,” rang out across the water as the night wore on.
Maxwell was deep in conversation with one of the older men, an experienced sailor. With a sharp stick the man drew a rough map on the sand, showing where they were and how far it was before they reached the open sea.
“Ye’re at a place the two sides of the loch almost come together. If ye leave here while it’s still dark, ye can be across to the other side before dawn. Wait until the dark falls, and follow the shoreline until ye reach the open sea.” He shrugged. “After that, ye must take yer chances with the weather and the ships chasing ye.”
Maxwell looked at him askance. “Ships… chasing?”
“Aye lad.” The man chuckled. “The two of ye have ‘fugitives’ inscribed all over ye, from head to toe. Isnae yer lady fleeing wi’ ye tae escape her cruel husband?”
Maxwell felt his cheeks burning at the man’s astute observation. “Aye. Something like that.”
The man grinned. A romantic at heart. Maxwell found himself contemplating his words, admitting to himself that there was a great deal of truth in them.
When the fiddler and the accordion appeared and the wild dancing started up, he whispered to Aileen, “Methinks we’ll nae be fit tae sail much further this night.”
She laughed. “What Highlander could ever resist a wedding cèilidh and a flagon of ale?”