Chapter 4
EVEN LUXBURY WAS shocked by the heavy-handed authority of the supervising port inspector who demanded he and the ladies remain in the cabin until a thorough search of the ship was finished.
“I’ve not heard of such nonsense,”
he fumed aloud after the door closed, though in reality, he’d only been on a frigate once before.
The ways of the sea and seamen were as new and confusing to him as to the women, though he’d never admit it.
“M’ladies, please remain in your seats.
I’ll see to your trunks.”
He opened the door with false bravado, stepped through and scanned the deck.
Several ship inspectors were lifting lids, opening barrels, and prying apart boxes that had been lined up for the stevedores to unload.
He easily spotted the Ingledew trunks; they’d been opened, with dresses and various other items strewn about around them.
“I say!”
Luxbury shouted, striding toward the man who was digging into the second trunk.
“What do you think you’re doing? Those things belong to … to my guests, two young ladies … courtiers … friends of King George.”
“Aye, this here’s Scotland ye be in.
Delivered from the power of yer English aristocracy …”
he flung a dress sideways “and its oppression.”
He lowered his voice.
“We be lookin’ fer smuggled goods … and people.”
“People?”
Luxbury shivered.
Could his plan be thwarted before they got to shore?
“Aye.
We’ve word the Brits be sendin’ lads to worry us.”
He thrust his hand to the bottom of the trunk and poked around.
“None be here.”
He gave a hearty laugh.
“Nay.
Ye may repack yer ladies’ fine things, cap’n.”
The inspector moved on.
Luxbury grunted in disgust, but he gathered the clothing and hoped he got each piece in the right trunk.
***
HANNAH JUMPED FIRST when the door opened and an inspector entered.
His tight shirt concealed tough and stringy muscles.
He eyed them with suspicion and Hannah began to twist the middle of one braid that peeked from the right side of her bonnet.
Eleanor rose, smoothed her skirts, and spoke.
“Yes? Can we help you?”
The inspector wobbled his head and scratched at his chin.
His odor reached Eleanor and she crinkled her nose.
“Mayhaps.”
He walked closer, keeping his beady eyes steady on Hannah as she sank back into her chair.
“What do ye ken of smugglers and stowaways?”
He was rough-edged and spoke in a distinct growl.
“Nothing, nothing,”
they both said.
Eleanor also lowered herself into her seat, mostly to put some distance between herself and the man with his grey whiskers and unhemmed pants.
“Ye look young … young as the lads we be asearchin’ fer.”
He leaned in close and sniffed at them.
His nostrils flared and the long hairs that protruded wiggled.
“Washed up, have ye?”
He glanced up at the doors to the washroom and the sleeping room.
“Keep yer arses in yer seats.”
His eyes narrowed and his mouth curled into a chilling smile.
Neither woman reacted to the vulgarity.
The inspector narrowed his gaze further. “Hmm.”
He glanced into the sleeping room, then moved to the washroom.
“Aha! Ye’ve been caught! A lady woulda gasped at me comments.
I dinnae ken where ye got yer frills, but ye didna hide yer breeches well enough.”
Startled, Hannah twisted her braid and it came free.
The bedraggled man took two quick steps to her and pulled out the other braid, yanked off her cap, and ran his fingers through her short hair.
“Ye be one.
And this here must be yer partner. Eh?”
He pulled off Eleanor’s bonnet, freed her horse hair braids, and laughed.
Both girls began to whimper and protest in a manner that confused the truth.
For all the times that they’d practice denying their female traits and lying to outsiders that they were orphans allowed to work the stables and gardens of Ingledew, no reasonable protestation escaped their lips now.
Hannah resorted to weeping.
“Don’t think ye can fool me more with such sounds.
And no need to.
I’m on yer side, ye miserable Sassenachs.
I’ll get ye off the ship and to safety.
Up ye go.
Get in yonder room and change into yer rightful things. Now.”
He withdrew a weapon from his pants and brandished it at them.
He wrenched Hannah from her seat with his other hand.
Eleanor rose too and pushed Hannah ahead of her without a word.
Once inside the small washroom, they whispered back and forth.
“Can you bar the door?”
Eleanor asked.
“No.
Oh, where is Bernard? What’s keeping him?”
“We should do as that dreadful man says and change into these things.”
“These rags belong to those stowaways.
The boys that man is looking for were stripped and pushed overboard.
Are we to take their places?”
“We may not have a choice.
We have to abandon our fine lady disguises.
I’ve been uncomfortable in petticoats and gloves.
I say we become the lads who wore these breeches and coats and go with this unpleasant Scotsman.
We can find Bernard later.”
Hannah stared at Eleanor.
“And if they jail us? With men?”
Eleanor gathered up the hem of her skirt and ripped the seam.
She extracted all the coins, one by one.
“We can pay a fine and be on our way.
Here, let me help you out of that dress.”
The inspector pounded on the door.
“Make haste now.
I can get ye past the captain and on to the meetin’ place.
The McKelvey boys’ll be awaitin’ on ye.”
Half-undressed, they gave each other a puzzled look.
Eleanor called back in a conspiratorial whisper, trying to mimic the inspector’s accent, “Ah, the McKelveys … we’ll be sore glad to see’em ag’in.”
She finished pulling on the breeches, tussled Hannah’s hair, then stuck her fingers in the bowl of water and slicked her own short locks behind her ears.
“Here.”
Hannah tied a second, relatively plain, linen pocket around her waist and held the pouch open.
“Put the coins here.”
The door handle jiggled.
***
LUXBURY COMPLAINED TO the ship’s captain, but all he got in return was a threat to throw him in the brig with some scalawags who wouldn’t do their share of work.
He went back to the cabin, opened the door, and was stunned to see the room vacant, except for an inspector working the handle of the washroom door.
“Sir, sir, I beg you, leave the ladies be.
This is most distressing.”
He strode toward the inspector, his hand on his pistol, his thoughts on Eleanor.
“Ladies, ye say? There be no ladies here.
Check the gangway.
The skipper likely hauled them off the ship.
Women be bad luck on the sea.”
Luxbury backed up a foot when the inspector aimed his pistol at his knees.
“’Tis only some deck hands in there.
Stowaways.
I’ll oust them off for the skipper.”
Luxbury frowned, but as the door came open and he saw two lads start to slip out, he turned away and raced off to begin his search for his charges.
He gulped down the rising bile.
This plan had been going to shite since he’d stopped the carriage this morning.
His head ached still, his bottom was sore from riding, his anger at the girls’ disobedience vexed him, and now the abrupt appearance of inspectors and the delay in disembarking had him flustered.
He glanced back before he left the cabin and saw too wincing lads, one on either side of the repulsive inspector who had a firm grip on each boy’s ear.
Their hair fell over their eyes, but he bet there were tears there.
Stowaways, they’d get what punishment they deserved. No doubt the skipper would have them scrubbing decks and mopping latrines if he wasn’t in the mood to throw another pair overboard.
Luxbury laughed as he exited, then shut his mouth and moved out of the way as a dozen or more hungry crew pushed their way past him.
***
CLIMBING DOWN THE ropes after Hannah felt natural to Eleanor.
She even smiled to herself once the pain in her ear diminished.
They dropped into a jolly boat, followed by the gruff man who believed they were lads and not lassies.
She pictured Lady Beth’s face and imagined it devolving into a horrified expression.
Well, the woman—her aunt if she really was—had inadvertently prepared them for this escape.
It was easy for them to slip into old ways, swing their arms, take longer strides, grunt and huff and even burp or fart as the need arose.
This port wasn’t nearly as busy as the one they’d come from.
The sun had set and there was barely enough light left to determine much from the silhouettes on shore.
The inspector rowed with strong arms, the muscles in his back rippling under his shirt, and his face grimacing.
Eleanor pressed her own arms against her chest.
She’d hastily bound her bosom; luckily the shirt was large and bulky on her anyway.
She and Hannah could hunch their shoulders and hide their figures.
Men were easy to fool.
“Och, grab that wee post, tie the front,”
the phony inspector hollered at Hannah.
He stowed the oars and grabbed a second rope to secure the jolly boat to the flimsy dock.
The boat tilted as Eleanor stood.
She lurched toward the edge and caught her hand on the splintery dock.
She gritted her teeth and kept her composure.
“Hey,”
the man yelled at a lad onshore, “bring the wagon.”
The girls leaped onto the dock and their kidnapper followed.
He gave them both a slap on their backs.
“Mighty fine actin’ back there.
Had that cap’n fooled, did ye? I dinnae ken how ye had the cheek to hide yerselves in women’s things.
We shan’t speak aboot it with the McKelveys.
They be hearty warrior types, ye ken.”
Eleanor tried to grunt a response, but coughed instead.
The smaller wharf area was deserted except for the young lad, but the sound of splashing oars behind them signaled the return of the real inspectors.
The cargo and their trunks would follow.
Eleanor wondered how long the trunks would sit unattended and whether Captain Luxbury would look after them.
She supposed not, but he’d given her too many bad feelings for her to hope he wouldn’t try to rescue them.
Did she even want to be rescued? Her sixth sense filled her with foreboding and now, with this competing scheme unfolding before them, curiosity filled her.
“Do ye know, er, do ye ken our names?”
she glanced at the man.
“I only ken how’s a man named Sylvan sent ye, though Sylvan mayn’t be his real name.
Ye can call me Tavish.
Who be ye?”
Sweat gathered on his forehead; invisible quivering was detectable through his grip on her arm.
He gave Hannah a rough cuffing on the shoulder and she answered, “Pascoe.
And that’s Eldridge.
I call’im El.”
“Pascoe and El.
Easy ’nough.
And that there’s me son, Malcolm.”
A small wagon rattled toward them.
The lad held the halter of the single horse and led him forward, stopping when his father waved a hand.
“Hop up, lads.
’Tis a wee bit of a jaunt to Killearn.
The McKelveys arrived at the Buchanan farm this fornuin.
They’ll be pleased to meet ye.”
He put a finger to his lips and warned his son to keep watch and follow on his pony if he had sight of any fancy Sassenachs.
The boy went back to the dock and Tavish said, “Thought for half a second one o’ ye might be the verra gentlewoman the Earl of Bute had in mind to bring to Scotland.
McKelvey’ll stop that scheme, he will.”
The ladies settled themselves in the small bed of the wagon.
Wisps of straw littered the bottom, but there was nothing smelly or disagreeable, no lumps of clay or other unspeakable irritants.
They sat with legs crossed and listened to Tavish prattle on about people and secrets and governments and kings.
Eleanor deduced the meanings of several words she’d never heard before.
The ‘wee bit of a jaunt’ turned into an hour, the stars came out, but the trail the wagon was on seemed well-known to the horse and to Tavish and the scant light was enough to see their way.
At last, a lantern threw some light out on the dirt several feet before the porch of a wood frame farmhouse.
Tavish stopped the horse a few feet away.
The thatched roof was barely visible, but nevertheless intriguing.
It was nothing like anything either girl had ever seen before.
To the right there was a small oddly-shaped barn and a corral as well.
The night air felt crisp, but Eleanor didn’t notice she was getting cold, not when she saw two broad-shoulders men in kilts step out of the barn and approach the wagon.
***
KEIR WOKE HIS brother when he heard Tavish and the wagon coming up the trail.
They’d been sleeping on the hay pretty much the whole day since they’d arrived before noon.
The Buchanan clan was no longer in residence except for the cross-eyed son, Thomas Buchanan, who’d stayed to tend the scraggly sheep and barren fields.
Thomas had fed the pair and listened to the men outline the scheme when Tavish arrived with his son.
Keir had meant to use Tavish’s wagon, but he and Logan needed sleep.
So it was Tavish who was tasked with bringing in the lads who they hoped would be on the English frigate due in that very afternoon.
The coded letter indicated there’d soon be the arrival of a Hanover relation, ready to be groomed for the plot against the throne. Keir was secretly commissioned with adding two English lads as extra guards for the Hanover heir, though they’d be bought and paid for as infiltrators. There was some disagreement and confusion about the heir’s gender. Keir was certain the plan was for a secret prince, not a princess, to arrive, and he was still holding hope that he’d have to deal with a young man and not some unfortunate female.
“Get yer haid off the hay, ye lazy dog.
We’ve company.
Ole Tavish is returned.”
Keir pushed his brother further into the hay, then pulled him up and out.
Their horses whinnied and Keir gave Copper a comforting stroke along its neck.
“Whaaht? Whot?”
Logan adjusted his accent to sound more Brit than Scot.
“Has Tavish brought the lit’l lads what’ll be our English spies?”
“Aye.
’Tis too dark to see’em yet.
Come along.
And stop with yer play-actin’.
Ye’ll not be gettin’ the part.
Ye’d be recognized.”
He gave Copper another pat and pushed the barn door the rest of the way open.
His brother came along and the two men walked shoulder to shoulder toward the lantern.
Keir kept his eyes on the wagon, straining to see the lads.
“Hullo, Tavish.
I see ye got’em both.
Any trouble playing inspector?”
He reached down for the lantern Thomas must have set out at dusk.
“Nay, nae trouble a’tall.”
He slithered down from his seat and ran his hand along the reins until he reached the horse’s muzzle.
“Thomas’s old gelding kent the way back in the dark.
’Twas black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat.”
He chuckled and pointed back at the wagon’s inhabitants.
“Lads, jump off.
Give the future Laird of Castle Caladh a deep bow.
’Tis Keir McKelvey … and his younger brother, Logan.”
As they scrambled out of the wagon Tavish dug into his shirt and pulled out something he waved at Keir and Logan.
The movement caught Keir’s eye, but he was more interested in the way the boys were acting.
Strange, he thought, that they were brave enough to risk the journey, but now seemed awkwardly fearful of him.
He raised the lantern higher.
“See?”
Tavish still waved the braids.
“Ye mayn’t see well ’nough, but these are ladies’ braids.
The lads were clever buggers to disguise themselves as maidens.
They couldna fool me, o’course, but with bonnets and braids and fancy dresses they risked their lives … on the verge of being thrown overboard, fer cursin’ the ship, nae doubt.”
Logan touched his capless head in a gesture of greeting, then elbowed Keir.
“They’re a wee bit scrawny.”
He looked to Tavish.
“Did ye bring the dresses?”
When Tavish finished answering in the negative along with a slur of self-deprecating curses, Logan said to Keir, “I ken ’tis yer plan, brother, that they be guards, but perhaps a change is warranted.
One or both could be … hmm … hidden under petticoats.”
Keir had yet to speak, spellbound he was by one of the lads.
An emotion he hadn’t felt since enduring the deep melancholy of losing his ma came over him.
A vague scent tickled his nose.
He couldn’t identify it, not flower, nor animal, nor food.
What other thing elicited such a reaction to put him in this uneasy state?
“Keir? What think ye?”
Logan nudged him again.
“I can tell from how ye’re starin’ at the lads, that my plan’ll make more sense.”
“Aye,”
Keir finally managed to croak out a word.
“Maybe Thomas has some things of his mum’s.
Dress one of them as a maid, the other as a guard.
Or send them both to the Beldorney castle as fine English ladies.”
Keir took a step toward the wagon, lifting the lantern higher yet.
Tavish started to lead the horse toward the barn and the sudden lurch of the wagon caused both of the creatures cowering before him to take a step forward.
One stumbled and Keir grabbed for a flailing arm, yanking its owner upright.
He grunted.
“Ye’ll be the dress-wearer,”
he let go of the abnormally soft flesh, “seein’ as how ye’re less steady.”
He lowered the lantern and handed it off to Logan.
“Yer name?”
“El.”
“Ye’ll have to learn some grace, El, if ye’re to play the part of a lady’s maid.”
“Nay,”
Logan said, “ye mean a lady’s companion, should the Hanover heir be a she.
And the other one can be the guard … for either prince or princess.”
Keir nodded.
“And yer name?”
“Pascoe.”
“A’right then.
We’ll look for clothes and such on the morrow.
Ye’ll sleep in the barn tonight.”
“Have ye need of the jakes?”
Logan gestured toward an outhouse.
“Or will a tree do ye fine enough?”