day,” the man said.
“No, lad, I mean, what sort of seaman are you, then?”
“Well that’s the interesting thing, sir, aye? We are no’ seaman. No’ a one of us a sailor, save our captain. We’re but Christian soldiers on an errand of mercy. Able-bodied, aye, willing to try. But no’, as such, sailors.”
“Bloody damn curious,” Beaty muttered, his thick brow furrowed.
“Agreed,” Aulay said.
Billy Botly, the youngest and smallest of the crew, was the last to receive the spyglass, and he had to fight for it. He was so slight that a good, strong wind would knock him overboard if he weren’t careful, and as he swung one leg over the edge of the hull to have a look, Aulay feared precisely that. “Aye, an heiress,” the lad said, a wee bit dreamily.
Aulay reached over Billy’s shoulder, took the spyglass from him and had a look himself. The lady was still standing there, still clutching the white flag against her chest, her hands crossed over it as if she feared she would lose it.
He lowered the spyglass again and peered down at the man. “Aye, and what do you want from me, then? I’ve no time to ferry anyone to her ailing grandmamma.”
His crew chuckled derisively in agreement.
“The ship, sir, she’s taking on water, that she is. We’ll no’ last through the night.”
“Should no’ have sailed in a ship no’ meant for open water, then,” Beaty called down. Apparently, Beaty was the only man aboard who was not moved by the sight of a comely lady in dire circumstances.
“Aye, but we’ve the miss and her father, wounded in the fight, he was. She’s no one to look after her.”
“You expect me to do the looking after?” Aulay asked and laughed roundly with his crew. He was bound for Amsterdam, and he’d not be late. This voyage was crucial for his family, and he firmly believed it had the potential to grow into something quite lucrative for the Mackenzies, in spite of his father’s misgivings. After years of scraping by, Aulay was resolved to prove they could restore their trade.
“Just need a port, sir, that’s it,” the man called up as he gripped the hem of his waistcoat in a nervous manner. They all seemed slightly agitated, each of them stealing looks at their damaged ship, as if they expected her to slip under the water while they had their backs turned.
“You’ll make landfall by night,” he called to them. “Go back the way you’ve come, aye? That’s what your attacker has done. You’ve two good sails yet and the wind will carry you if you trim them properly. Gun déid leat,” he said, wishing them the best of luck, and turned away from the railing, his intent to be done with this unusual event at sea.
“Captain, sir!” the man shouted frantically. “She’s taking on water too fast, can you no’ see with your own eyes? It’s a miracle of heaven that you’ve come at all, and we rejoice in our fortune! We were drawing straws to see who would take the lady and her father in the jolly and who among us would be doomed to drown! Will you turn your back on us now?”
“Aye, Cap’n, she’s sinking,” Billy said anxiously.
“What is the matter with him, then?” Iain asked curiously, eying the man in the boat. “Why does he speak in that fancy manner?”
Why indeed did he speak in that manner, and who set sail with no experienced hands? It all seemed rather odd, but as Aulay was mulling it over, they heard a groan of wood from the other ship. The winds were picking up, and a strong wave had rocked it, making it list even more. He lifted the spyglass. The woman was clutching the arm of the mountain of a man beside her.
Bloody hell. The ship was sinking.
“How many of you are there?”
“Ten!” the man said.
One of the other men punched his leg and spoke. They exchanged a few words and then he said, “I beg your pardon, only eight!”
“Are they so inept they canna count the souls on board?” Aulay muttered.
“Fools,” Beaty agreed.
Aulay debated. He was a man of the sea and he understood that sometimes, the sea won. All of them, to a man...well, with the exception of Billy, perhaps...understood the risks involved every time they made sail. The thrill of that risk drove them. But there was something about that woman clinging to the man across the way that tugged at Aulay’s conscience. An unwelcome and disturbing image of his younger sister, Catriona, popped into his head, and he inwardly shuddered at the thought of her standing in that lady’s shoes. “Verra well,” he said. “Bring the lady and your men, then. Bring what provisions you have, aye? I donna intend to feed the lot of you. And you can expect to work for your passage.”
“Of course. Thank you, Captain, thank you,” the man said, and quickly motioned for the men to row.
As they turned the small boat about, banging into the ship’s hull as they did, Beaty sighed loudly and gave Aulay a sidelong look.
“What, then, you’d have the lady drown?” Aulay asked.
“No!” Billy cried.
“No,” Beaty admitted reluctantly. “But there are too many of them, and one of them so large that he’ll be as much trouble as three, he will. Where will they sleep, then? Have we enough water for them all? And what of these fools?” he asked, gesturing to Aulay’s crew, all of them still at the railing, still chattering about the woman. “You’d think they’d never seen a lass.”
“We’ll put them in the hold with a night guard, aye?” Aulay said.
“Shall we arm ourselves?” Beaty asked.
Aulay glanced at the listing ship. “They are no threat to us.”
Beaty’s response was muttered under his breath.
It took two trips to bring all of them. When the first batch of men was delivered, along with a crate of food, Beaty demanded irritably, “Why’d you no’ bring the lady, then, if you’re so fearful of her drowning?”
“She willna come until her father can be brought,” said the man who had first spoken to them from the jolly.
They watched the second batch of men come, and when they were delivered safely on board, they stood with the first batch at the rail in an anxious cluster, their eyes on the jolly as two of them returned to the listing ship.
Not one of them looked like a sailor to Aulay. Most of them didn’t seem to have their sea legs, stumbling and banging into each other as the ship bobbed on the swells and they sought their balance. It was all very odd. He was impatient, too—the transfer was taking far too long. The Reulag Balhaire had to keep tacking around to keep from drifting too far from the smaller ship. Aulay watched the progress of the last few. The enormous man who had remained behind with the lady singlehandedly lowered a figure in a rope sling to the waiting boat. Next came the lady, climbing down the rope ladder with surprising agility. She leaped into the boat, foregoing any of the hands offered up, then turned her head up to direct the larger man. He began to make his way down, too, but much more clumsily—lumbering, really, appearing to have trouble
