CHAPTER TWENTY
LOTTIE WOKE UP with a start.
She was still wrapped in the warmth of Aulay’s arms—a safe harbor.
She carefully untangled herself, kissed his bare chest, and slipped off the bunk. Aulay didn’t move—he was sleeping so soundly that she wondered how long he’d gone without sleep. She dressed quietly and quit the cabin. It was the middle of the night—there was no one on deck that she could see but a pair of Mackenzie men, one of them minding the wheel, one of them with a spyglass held to his eye. She wondered what he could possibly see in the light of a moon.
She snuck into the forward cabin and stepped over Mathais. Drustan had taken one bunk and she crawled onto the other. In mere moments, she had drifted into blissful sleep.
The sun had risen when she woke again. Lottie stretched, happy as a new bride. She felt sated. She felt loved. Not in the way gentlemen generally professed their affection for her while looking at her with a bit of a leer in their eyes. But loved, deep and wide, body and soul. She’d never felt so desired like this. As if he desired all of her, and not just her looks. Aye, those moments with Aulay had been worth every moment of her life thus far.
“Why are you smiling, then?”
“What? Pardon?” Lottie sat up with a start. She hadn’t noticed Mathais was awake and dressed. He’d pulled his blond hair into a queue in the manner Aulay wore his gold locks at times.
“You were smiling in your sleep,” he said, staring at her curiously. “Were you dreaming of Fader?”
No. For the first time in days, not for one blessed moment. “Aye, I suppose I was,” she lied. “Do you remember the summer he bred those pups to hunt the rabbits?” She smiled with the fond memory of the puppies romping around their small salon. Unfortunately, her father had brought home pups that were useless for hunting rabbits, but better suited to sitting in ladies’ laps.
Mathais stared at her as if she were speaking Danish. He bounced a leg impatiently. “We’ve no time for talk of dogs, Lottie,” he chastised her, and began to pace, full of nerves. “A ship is near us. Sailed all night to reach us, that’s what Gilroy says.”
“What?” She leaped to her feet and started to look around for shoes. “Whose ship, then?”
“That’s the problem, aye? It’s got no flags, no markers.” He suddenly gasped. “It could verra well be a ghost ship.”
Lottie had no idea what that was and had no desire to learn. “Where is Dru?”
“Where is he always, then? Sitting on a barrel, carving on a piece of bloody wood.”
Lottie gave her youngest brother a sharp look. He shrugged sheepishly. “Well, he’s taken no notice of the ship or anything else,” Mathais complained. “Gilroy says it might be excise men,” he excitedly continued. “Or a privateer. But it could be a ghost ship.” He spoke with far too much eagerness for Lottie’s tastes.
Her heart began to race with apprehension—this was exactly what had happened a little more than a week ago—a ship had come too close and they’d speculated about who or what it was. She located her boots and yanked them on, and followed Mathais out onto the deck. A few men were standing at the port side staring out at the ship. Diah but it was quite close, sailing in parallel to them. She could see men on board that ship, the guns pointed at them, and her heart jumped. Not again.
Livingstones and Mackenzies alike were scrambling to change sails and move crates and casks around on the deck, to pull guns into place. She leaped off the forecastle landing onto the main deck and ran to Duff, who was among those at the railing. She tugged on his sleeve to gain his attention. “Who is it? What’s happening?”
“Canna say. But they are in dire pursuit of us, that they are.”
She heard Aulay bark a command to two men up on the masts. She whirled around at the sound of his voice, seeking him, but at that moment, Drustan noticed something was amiss, and stood up from his crate and bellowed for Lottie.
Aulay’s head snapped around. He looked at Drustan, then shifted his gaze to Lottie.
“Aye,” she said, understanding his look—his command, really—and went to Drustan. Her poor brother, bless him, was confused and in the way of men who were working to keep ahead of the other ship.
“Take him below,” Aulay said, and reached for the spyglass from Iain the Red.
“Who is it?” Lottie asked.
“I donna know,” he said, and held the spyglass up to his eye as he spoke to Iain in Gaelic. He handed Iain the spyglass then whipped around, nearly colliding with Lottie. “Lass, please, aye?” he said, gesturing to the hatch. “Take you brother and go below. We canna have the two of you underfoot.”
She wished he would assure her, she wished she could assure him that no one was more willing to help than she, but he’d already moved on, shouting up to the men on the masts.
Behind her, Drustan knocked a cask that rolled into one of the guns. Lottie caught his arms and made him look at her. His eyes were unfocused, something that happened when the world didn’t make sense to him. It was as if he disappeared inside himself. “I’m here, Dru. Where is your wood?” she asked, turning him toward the hatch that led to the hold.
Drustan looked down at his hands, his brow furrowed. “I donna know. Have I lost it, then?”
“Let’s have a look below, aye?” she said. “If we donna find it there, we’ll start anew.”
“Here it is!” he suddenly shouted, having located it in his pocket, and allowed Lottie to steer him down into the hold.
After several days of housing too many men, the hold had a certain stench to it. Drustan was quite at home here, apparently, for he plopped onto a pile of straw and began to work on his bit of wood, bowing over it, squinting as he carefully carved slivers from it, already having forgotten whatever had happened on deck.
Sometimes, Lottie wished she could live as simply as her brother—how bonny it would be. Unfortunately, she had nothing but worry to occupy her and all she could do was wait.
She paced endlessly. She went in search of candles to replace one that had burned down. She could hear the men overhead, sometimes moving things about, sometimes shouting. How much time passed? An hour? Four? It seemed an eternity before the hatch was suddenly thrown open, startling her and Drustan both. Mathais clambered down the steps, leaping halfway and landing squarely into their midst.
“What has happened?” she demanded.
Her brother was aflutter, unable to keep still. “We’re to sail through the Pentland Firth!”
Lottie had no idea where that was or the significance of it. “Aye, and...?”
“And it could be quite dangerous if you donna know what you’re about. It’s a bit of sea between the Orkney Islands and the mainland, aye? Sailors are meant to go between the Orkneys and the Shetlands, for the sea is wider there. The firth is narrow and the tides are fast, and that’s why we’ll sail it. Gilroy says if we enter the firth at the right time, the sea will sling us round the bend.”
“What?” Lottie exclaimed. “What bend? That seems so—”
“Dangerous, aye,” Mathais said, his eyes gleaming with the prospect.
“And the other ship? Will they no’ be slung as well?”
“Aye, they’re just behind us!” Mathais announced.
“No, no no,” Drustan said. “I donna want another ship!”
“Aye, Dru, but you’re no’ to fret,” Mathais said with great authority. “We’ll beat them, we will. We will win!”
“We’ll win!” Drustan shouted.
Lottie’s breath was growing short with her nerves. “I must... I have to see with my own eyes, Mats. I have to understand what is happening. Stay with Drustan.”
“But I’m to help!” Mathais exclaimed.
“Aye, and you will. But I must see!”
“No, Lottie, I donna want you to go up there. Stay here!” Drustan wailed.
“She’ll come back, Dru, she always comes back,” Mathais said impatiently. “Donna weep over it. I hate when you weep.”
Lottie hurried up the steps before either one of them could stop her.
The wind had picked up and knocked her back a step as she emerged onto the deck. All around her men were engaged, pulling ropes, rolling sails or manning the yards. She picked her way through the throng, trying to stay out of their way, but finding herself in the wrong spot when someone shoved a crate and it narrowly missed knocking her right over the railing.
She climbed the steps to the quarterdeck, where Aulay, Beaty, Duff and Gilroy were gathered. Aulay stood at the wheel, his legs braced apart, his hair uncovered, whipped by the wind. She turned around to look behind them and gasped. The ship was closer than it had been earlier today. “What do they want?” she demanded of no one in particular.
“What do they ever want?” Duff said.
“You ought no’ to be here now,” Aulay said to her, sparing her a glance.
A strong wave knocked the ship to its right, spraying the quarterdeck. Lottie lost her footing and went down hard.
“Take the wheel, Beaty,” she heard Aulay say, and then felt two strong arms slide under her arms and haul her to her feet. Aulay marched her down the steps to the main deck. “Go below, leannan. I’ll no’ see you harmed.”
He turned to go but Lottie caught his arm. “Aulay, I...”
“Save it,” he said, not unkindly, but in the manner of a man who had much more important things to do than soothe her.
It was just as well. Lottie didn’t know what she meant to say, really. Sorry seemed woefully inadequate. Save us seemed too bloody obvious. Hold me, I’m frightened was unfair.
Mathais was quick to hurry back up to the deck when she returned, disappearing through the hatch before she could speak to him. “Mind you have a care!” she shouted after him.
“Aye, aye!” he called down, and let the hatch door slam shut.
Lottie and Drustan went back to waiting.
Minutes turned to hours, long enough that Lottie twice replaced the candle in the lantern that swung from a beam above their heads. She found something for them to eat, but mostly, she moved restlessly about. Occasionally she looked up when she heard shouting. She watched Drustan cover his head when they heard a lot of movement above them, sounding like a herd of cattle charging. And then there was nothing but the creaks and moans of the ship moving through water.
She realized it was dark when the hatch opened and MacLean appeared, followed by Mathais. “We’re to bring up food,” MacLean said. His face was lined with fatigue, his clothing wet. Mathais was still filled with his youthful exuberance and was rummaging about the crates and boxes stored there. “I’m to bring whisky,” he said grandly.
“Whisky?” Lottie looked at MacLean. “Have we won, then?”
MacLean snorted. “No’ at all. They followed us into the firth. They lost a bit of ground, but they remain in the hunt, still matching us, move for move. Aye, but Mackenzie is the better captain, he is—he has sailed us through treacherous water without so much as a bump. When we round Cape Wrath, we’ll hug closer to the shore. The ship behind us is bigger and canna go in as close. Beaty says there is no’ a captain on the seas other than Mackenzie who can sail as close to shore without running aground.” He picked up the last of the sea biscuits. “We’ll lose them then. Come, then, Mats, let’s bring this up, aye?”
The two of them left.
Drustan made himself a place in straw and settled in to sleep. He didn’t seem to understand the danger they were in, which was a blessing, really. Lottie couldn’t even think of sleep. Every shudder and groan of the ship, every bit of footfall overhead startled her. She moved back and forth between the stairs and where Drustan was sleeping, waiting. Her imagination soared wildly with ideas and scenes that seemed to grow more deadly as the hours wore on.
She became so lost in thought that she didn’t at first realize she’d heard nothing above her for some time. She paused, listening. Not a single footfall, not a muffled voice. Her first thought was that pirates had snuck on board and murdered them all. Were she and Drustan destined to float along, forgotten or undiscovered here, until the ship capsized or they crashed into cliffs and drowned? Or was there an ambush waiting for them above?
She couldn’t stand about like a lamb—she had to know. She looked upon Drustan, who slept soundly, then made her way to the stairs and crept up toward the hatch. She slowly, carefully pushed it open, an inch at a time. It was quite dark, but it was not night—a thick gray, fog engulfed the ship.
Lottie pushed the hatch open a wee bit more, and poked her head out. She was suddenly and violently pushed down, and whoever had done it came crashing in behind her, forcing her down to the hold’s floor, and pulling the hatch shut very quietly. Lottie caught herself on a post and whirled around. “For the love of God, Duff, you scared me half to death!” she exclaimed.
He lifted a thick finger to his lips. “No’ a word, Lottie,” he whispered.
Her heart vaulted into her throat. “Have we been overrun by pirates?”
He shook his head. “They canna see us in the fog. But we can hear them. They are passing us, and we must be as quiet as the dead until they’ve gone,” he whispered.
Lottie brought her hands to cheeks, pressing her fingers hard against her skin to keep from screaming with the anxiety that was ratcheting up in her.
Duff turned his attention to the closed hatch door. Lottie dropped her hands and looked up, too. They stood together, staring up, both of them straining to hear something, both of them waiting for someone to open the hatch.
“What is it?” Duff hissed.
Lottie heard it then, too—a soft pattering overhead.
“Rain,” she whispered.
Duff frowned. “That means the fog will lift soon.”
The pattering was light at first, but suddenly the rain fell heavy, falling in a deluge on the deck.
“I’m going up,” Duff said.
“Lot? I canna see you!” Drustan cried.
“I’m here, Drustan,” she said. She watched Duff go up, desperately wanting to go up with him, but unable to leave Drustan. She could never leave Drustan. Hadn’t that been her mother’s favorite refrain? Donna leave Dru.
“I’m hungry,” he said when she came to his side. He was clutching his carving to his chest. A gull, she’d noticed, and a rather good one at that. “I’ll see what I can find, aye?” she said, and dug in the crate for anything to eat and finding nothing but sour ale.
Drustan drained the flagon. “But I’m hungry, Lottie.”
“Soon, Dru. You must be patient.”
He suddenly looked up. “What’s that, then?” he asked. “What’s that noise?”
It sounded as if someone were pumping water from a well. “The tide must be rising.” Or was it going out? Why did no one come for them? If the ship had passed, why were they still locked away? The rain began to leak through the planks above them, and they moved into the center of the hold.
All at once there was a lot of shouting overhead. Drustan wailed beside her, frightened by the shouting. Lottie made out the word heave, and suddenly the ship pitched right so violently that it caught Lottie and Drustan unawares. She grabbed her brother and a post, and had hardly righted herself when the ship suddenly and violently collided with something. The force of it knocked her and Drustan to the floor. Lottie’s hand landed in water, and when she turned around, she saw water rushing in from the stern.
Drustan cried out, groping for the post, hauling himself to his feet. Lottie managed to gain hers, too. There was a hole in the hull the size of a whisky cask. She shrieked with alarm and grabbed Drustan’s hand. “Come! We have to go!” she shouted.
“No!” he screamed, and wrapped his arms around the post.
She tugged frantically at his arms and tried to unlock his grip, but Drustan refused to let go. She was no match for him—he was far too strong and she could not move as much as one of his fingers. “Dru! If we stay below we drown!” she cried, and punched him in the arm. “You have to come!”
He responded with a roar and squeezed his eyes shut.
Lottie gasped with the understanding she would go down with this ship. Drustan would not leave the post he clung to, and she would not leave Drustan, which meant she would drown. Panic clawed at her throat and her belly, threatening to erupt in bile. “Please,” she begged her brother. “I donna want to die, Dru! You must trust me, aye? Fader would tell you to do as I say!”
At the mention of their father, Drustan cut her a look. “I’m scared!”
“Aye, so am I! But I donna want to sink to the bottom of the sea with no hope! At least above we have a chance of surviving. Fader would want us to fight!”
“I canna swim!” he shrieked, and tears as big as raindrops began to slide down his face.
“We’ll no’ swim,” she promised him, her voice shaking as she caressed his cheek. “There are boats above, Dru, remember? Boats!” She hoped to heaven that was true, that everyone else had not deserted them. She gripped one of his large hands and managed to peel it from the post as water inched over their boots.
Amazingly, she managed to tug her reluctant brother to the stairs. He kept grabbing at things, trying to find something to hold on to, but her determination was making her stronger than she had ever been in her life. When they reached the stairs, she pushed him in front of her, yelling at him to go up, to open the hatch. “I’m frightened!” he shouted.
Diah, what was she to do with him? Lottie shoved around him. She scrambled up the steps and threw open the hatch, then just as quickly went down again and made him step in front of her. “Duff and Mats are waiting for you,” she said breathlessly. It was a lie, but she had to do something to get him to move. She watched his hulking shape crawl hesitantly up the steps, then slowly disappear onto the deck. When she was certain he was out, she began to scramble up the stairs after him.
She was halfway up when the ship lurched and she fell off the stairs, landing on the floor of the hold on a knee. Wrenching pain shot up her spine, stunning her. She took several breaths to quell the nausea the sharp pain had caused her. Water had reached her fingertips, and through sheer will, she got on two hands and one knee and pushed herself to standing. She hopped to the steps and tried again. Her good leg onto a rung, followed by her bad. Then again, gasping with pain as she put weight on the bad to lift the good one up to the next rung.
She had made slow progress when a hand reached through the opening. “Give me your hand!” Aulay shouted.
Relief flooded her, and she grabbed his hand with both of hers. He yanked her up through the opening, pulling her out of the hold and setting her on her feet on the deck. Lottie’s knee buckled in pain. “Can you walk?” he demanded.
She shook her head.
Aulay immediately swept her up in his arms and strode to the port railing. They’d already lowered the jolly and the Reulag Balhaire’s larger boat. “Help her down!” Aulay shouted. “She’s injured!”
Everything was a blur from there. Lottie made it down the rope ladder with the help of two men, and was practically tossed into the jolly while the sea frothed around them and battered against the sinking ship. There were still men on deck as the jolly was pushed away and men began to row, straining to battle the waves. Lottie looked frantically about her, relieved to see Mathais and Drustan with her in the jolly, and behind them, Duff, too, who was helping two Mackenzie men row.
She twisted around to see the ship. It was listing horribly now, the main deck at a sharp angle. The ship looked close to capsizing. She couldn’t see where the other men were, not in the great sheets of rain that came down, and she couldn’t see what was happening on the deck. She went up on one knee to see, but the jolly rode up on a wave and came down so hard that she fell back and struck her head on the side of the boat.
“Hold her!” someone shouted, and a hand wrapped firmly around her wrist to keep her from tumbling into the water. Drustan.
When she tried to sit up, everything around her blurred. She couldn’t tell sky from sea, and the water was so rough and choppy that she was made quite ill. Everything began to spin away from her. She was reeling into oblivion, and she thought she would do anything to make it stop...including dying.
Her last conscious thought before she was spun into blackness was, where was Aulay?