6 December, 1766

The Artemis

CATRÌONA POV

With my things in mine and Jamie's cabin, I opened up one of the crates and pulled out my medical bag, which I had filled with herbs in Paris before we left. I set it heavily down on top of a table built into the wall when the door opened and Jamie entered, smiling at me and closing the door behind him. "Look at tha', we've got our own cabin after all," he said to me, standing behind me, wrapping his arms around my body and kissing my cheek.

"Hmph," I said, not looking up and acting as if he wasn't even there as I compared my inventory to a notebook I had in the bag. Jamie sighed.

"Are ye still mad at me?" he asked me. "Catrìona, talk te me." I slammed the notebook down on the table and turned around to face him with my teeth gritted and fire in my eyes.

"Ye have authority te turn this damn ship around and dock so we can send Caoimhe home," I said to him sharply. "How could ye no' do that?"

"Catrìona, we're already a month behind the ship tha' stole our nephew. If we turn around, who kens how much time we'll lose?" Jamie asked me, and I scoffed.

"So yer fine puttin' Caoimhe in danger," I said, pushing him off of me. "How am I supposed te explain this te Cailean, aye? 'We had the opportunity te turn around, but we didnae because we couldnae spare but one day te make sure yer daughter was safe'."

"If ye dinnae ken it, yer brother is a hell of a lo' more different than my sister. He'll understand, and he'll forgive ye, even if somethin' happens te her. But Jenny? She'll never forgive me if somethin' happens te Ian! She isnae the forgivin' type," Jamie spat back at me.

"Oh, so that makes it better, then? Cailean is more understandin' so it's fine if we put my niece in danger, but not yer nephew?" I asked him, and he let out a frustrated cry and turned away from me.

"God, Catrìona, must everrathin' be yer way and yer way only?" he demanded from me. "We must turn around te send Caoimhe back. What of Marsali, aye?"

"Of course we'd send Marsali back as well, but my primary concern is the lass tha' shares my blood who I brought into this verra world scarcely twenty years ago!" I spat at him. "Ye ken what? I'll get nowhere with ye, ever. It's not my way all of the time, it's always yer way, and ye always prioritise what ye deem more important than anythin' or anyone else. I'm goin' te set up my infirmary." I grabbed my bag and made for the door.

"Catrìona! We arenae finished wi' this conversation!" Jamie shouted after me.

"Then put it on pause fer all I care, ye selfish bastard," I spat back, slamming the door behind me.


CAOIMHE POV

Caoimhe and Marsali both opted to stay in the cabin that Uncle Jamie led them to after facing the wrath of both Uncle Jamie and Auntie Cat. Caoimhe didn't understand why Auntie Cat was so angry, she basically did the same thing when she left home and then ended up marrying Uncle Jamie. She folded up her skirts with frustration as she prepared for bed later that evening, her back to Marsali.

"Tha' bed's larger. Ye should have it," Marsali said to her suddenly, and Caoimhe raised an eyebrow and turned to face her. She took in Marsali's height - she was shorter than Caoimhe, but only by a couple of inches.

"Because I'm taller than ye or…" Caoimhe said with confusion, wondering why Marsali was offering her the larger bed.

"Bigger bed fer the daughter of a whoore," said Marsali snidely, and Caoimhe at first was taken aback by that uncalled for remark before she let out a scoff.

"Dinnae speak that way aboot my mother, ye dinnae ken anythin' aboot her," Caoimhe spat back, narrowing her eyes at Marsali.

"She's a whoore, and she's stolen my Da and made a laughin' stock of my mother," Marsali snapped back, and Caoimhe let out a laugh.

"Oh, ye mean Auntie Cat!" Caoimhe exclaimed as she laughed. "Stole yer Da, did she? How auld are ye, anyway? Ye dinnae look more than, what, fifteen or so?"

"So what?" Marsali demanded from her.

"Auntie Cat's been married te Uncle Jamie fer a hell of a lot longer than ye've been alive, than even I've been alive," Caoimhe said back to her. "If anythin', yer Ma stole Uncle Jamie away from my aunt." It was Marsali's turn to scoff.

"Tha's not what I've heard. I heard yer auntie left Da and their children all alone fer the colonies," she replied snidely.

"Uncle Jamie forced her te go because she was havin' a bairn, ye wee fool. Ye dinnae ken what yer talkin' aboot," Caoimhe said to her, waving off this ignorant child as she climbed into the larger bunk.

"I ken enough te know he married my Ma because he loved her and us, and then he broke her heart by leavin' when tha' whoore of a witch came back," Marsali replied, evidently not finished with this squabble, and Caoimhe huffed.

"My cousin wrote te me in the weeks followin' Uncle Jamie's marriage te yer Ma. It certainly didnae sound like love, from the way Archie described it," Caoimhe told her with amusement.

"Archie doesnae ken anythin' aboot what went on between Da and my Ma," Marsali spat at her.

"No? So the shoutin' and sound of things bouncin' and crashin' off the walls were a figment of his imagination?" Caoimhe asked her, and Marsali's eyes widened. "Aye, he wrote verra detailed letters aboot how yer Ma so kindly treated Uncle Jamie. Now, if ye dinnae mind, it's been a long few days without a bed, and I'd like te enjoy a good sleep in one." Marsali huffed as Caoimhe turned over, and Caoimhe could hear her climb into the bunk above Caoimhe's.

Oh, what a silly, naive little fool. Obviously, Marsali was young and impressionable, and also probably never left the home she was born in. Her mother probably never left, either, and probably never saw things even remotely similar to what Caoimhe's mother or Auntie Cat had seen. She was sheltered, easily manipulated, and likely believed every word her mother told her, whether she was fed lies or not, as if it were law. If she could stop being such a wee bitch for a moment and would open her eyes, perhaps she would see that the world wasn't just confined to the protective little bubble her mother built around her.


CATRÌONA POV

At night, I sat in the infirmary writing by candlelight in my notebook information about the few patients I saw that day. Harry Grosman, rope burn. Brodie Cooper, tripped over a rope coil and bashed his head on the bulkhead. Tom MacRae, smashed his hand between two crates-

"Catrìona." It was Jamie; I let out a huff and continued writing down my treatments for each of the men that came to me. "We need te discuss this, Catrìona."

"There's nothin' te discuss. Ian's more important than Caoimhe, tha' was the end of the discussion, no?" I asked him, not looking at him.

"That isnae what I meant and ye ken it," Jamie said to me, and then he let out a sigh. "Caoimhe's important te me too, but I believe Archie when he tells me Caoimhe is a tough lass, a lot like ye were."

"Caoimhe has never had the experiences I've had," I told him as he came to stand next to me.

"No, but if ye werenae like ye are, ye would have died a long time ago," Jamie told me, and I paused as I wrote, picking up my head and looking at him. "I see ye in Caoimhe easily. She's the mischief of her father and the looks of her mother, but she has yer spirit. If she didnae have that, I would have ordered this ship te turn around the moment I realised she was onboard."

"And what if she isnae as like me as ye think?" I asked him.

"Then whatever happens te her will be my responsibility, and I will tell Cailean the same," Jamie told me. "Between ye and me, Caoimhe will be safe, as will Marsali, and Fergus, and Archie as well. Hell, we carried the wee laddie through a rebellion, did we no'?" He smiled at me, and I shook my head and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Aye, I suppose we did," I said, looking back down at my notebook. "I suppose if we could do that, then… I shouldnae be angry wi' ye fer bein' fine with Caoimhe on board." He smiled at me again, then gently rubbed my back.

"Come, lass, it's late. Best we get te bed," he told me, and I nodded, closing my notebook and picking up the candle to take with us as we left the infirmary.

"So, Fergus and Marsali," I said as we walked. "What do ye think of tha'?" Jamie chuckled gently.

"They hardly ken each other," he told me.

"Neither did we, when we were wed," I replied.

"Tha' was different. We were forced te marry," Jamie told me.

"Aye, after we were caught snoggin' several times, I might add," I told him, stopping and putting one hand on my hip.

"Aye, well…" Jamie replied, evidently caught up.

"We may have been forced te marry, but ye ken verra well that we both wanted it," I told him, amused with having caught him off guard.

"The greatest difference is their ages compared te ours," Jamie told me. "We were but mere months apart, Fergus was already a man when Marsali was born."

"But it's experience tha' makes a man, no?" I asked him, teasing him, and he huffed softly.

"Men and women are different, Eileanach ," Jamie replied, leading me back to our cabin.

"Studies will show in the future tha' women mature faster than men," I told him as he opened the door, and I went inside. "Marsali looks te be the same age I was when I lost my family, my home, was forced te join a rebellion…"

"Aye, she's fifteen," Jamie told me.

"And she lost her father, has Laoghaire fer a bleedin' mother… She was nearly homeless if it werenae fer ye. Those are experiences that make a child grow up faster," I replied, sitting down on the bed. "Ye should talk te Fergus, find out more aboot them before ye judge them fer bein' hasty, especially when we were hasty."

"Perhaps," Jamie told me. "Tomorrow. Another time. Fer now, I only want te lie down with ye in my arms and go te sleep."

"That sounds wonderful te me," I said with a smile, patting the thin mattress beside me.


10 December, 1766

CAOIMHE POV

"It's ower the hills and faur awa'!

It's ower the hills and faur away'…

It's ower the hills and faur away'!

The wind has blawn my plaid awa'!"

Caoimhe was up on the deck standing near the bulkhead when Archie started climbing up a rope net to one of the sails to tie them tighter and while doing so, started singing an old song that Caoimhe had heard quite a few sailors on Barra singing. Archie had a fine deep voice, and Caoimhe could see easily why so many lasses on Barra turned their heads when he walked by.

"Jocky met wi' Jeannie fair between the dawnin' and the day,

But Jocky noo is fu' o' care since Jenny's stown his heart away.

Although she promised tae be true, she proven has, alas, unkind,

The which does make poor Jocky rue that e'er he lo'ed a fickle mind."

Some of the other sailors who were also tending to the sails joined in with Archie on the chorus, singing a joyous sailors' melody together, and then Archie took over on the next verse.

"Jocky was a bonny lad that e'er was born in Scotia fair,

But noo, poor lad, he does run mad syne Jenny caused his dispair.

Young Jocky was a piper's son, he fell in love when he was young

And a' the tunes that he could play was ower the hills and faur awa'."

Caoimhe couldn't help but join in on the next chorus, singing along with Archie and the rest of the sailors as they worked and clapping her hands along to the song.

"It's ower the hills and faur awa'!

It's ower the hills and faur away'…

It's ower the hills and faur away'!

The wind has blawn my plaid awa'!"

"Nice, lads! Yer a bunch of songbirds, ye are!" Archie shouted down to them, leaping down from the beam and swinging back down onto the deck using a loose rope, and Caoimhe clapped for him.

"Impressive, ye could be a true pirate if ye put yer mind te it," Caoimhe told her cousin, who chuckled.

"Aye, jus' like Grandsire, aye?" Archie asked her. "Did he ever tell ye aboot when he posed as a pirate and raided English ships durin' the Fifteen?" Caoimhe lightly gasped.

"No, he didnae! Did he really do that?" Caoimhe asked her.

"Aye, he did! 'Course they didnae ken it was him at the time, but when they finally figured it out, they couldnae prove it," Archie told her. Nearby, Marsali, who was also leaning against the bulkhead separately, let out a scoff.

"A whoore fer a mother and a pirate fer a grandsire, aye?" Marsali asked them.

"I thought I told ye te watch what ye say aboot my mother?" Archie told her with a warning tone.

"Ye ken, Marsali, yer verra bonny. It's a true shame when beauty is wasted on someone wi' such a hideous personality," Caoimhe said to her, and Archie snorted rather loudly - and so did Auntie Cat, who had been coming up to join them. Marsali narrowed her eyes at Auntie Cat.

"Oh, of course you think tha's funny!" Marsali snapped at her.

"Oh, hen, I'm no' laughin' because my niece insulted ye, I'm laughin' because what she said sounded so similar te somethin' her father said te a lass when we were young," Auntie Cat told her.

"Daddy said somethin' like that?" Caoimhe asked her with surprise.

"Oh, aye, he did. If only ye could have met yer father before he married… He was quite the mischievous wee hellion, he was," Auntie Cat told her with a chuckle.

"Sounds aboot right," Marsali said bitterly, and Auntie Cat let out a sigh.

"Marsali, why dinnae ye try bein' nice sometime? It feels good," Auntie Cat told her, and suddenly behind her, there was a loud crash and the sound of a cry, and Auntie Cat whipped around to see what had happened.


CATRÌONA POV

"What's happened?" I demanded as I ran over to the crowd of men, shoving through to find a man on the ground with a very bloody open wound on his head. "Step aside! Step aside! What's happened?"

"One of the lines snapped and the deadeye hit him in the head," said another sailor as I knelt down beside the man on the ground, grasping his head in my hands.

"Can ye tell me yer name?" I asked him.

"M… Manzetti," said the man.

"Can ye tell me where ye are?" I asked again.

"A… a ship… aye?" Manzetti asked me.

"Verra good, and can ye tell me where yer goin'?" I asked, and Manzetti raised an eyebrow at me.

"To the Indies, same as you, no?" he asked me with confusion.

"Puff yer cheeks out fer me," I said, and Manzetti obeyed as I touched and squeezed his cheeks. "Now follow my finger wi' yer eyes only." I started moving my finger in front of his eyes to check for any damage, and he followed my finger obediently.

"What are you doin' if ya don't mind my asking?" Manzetti asked me.

"Checkin' the extent of the damage," I told him, pulling out a vial of alcohol I keep on my person in case of instances like this and dumped a little on his head to wash the wound, and he cried out in pain. "Aye, that'll sting, but it looks like the wound isnae verra deep, which is good. Come wi' me te the infirmary and I'll stitch ye up good. Help me?" I asked one of the sailors, and the sailor helped me get Manzetti to stand and walked with me to the infirmary.

"Can I go back te work, Ma'am?" Manzetti asked me.

"I think ye should do light work fer the next day or two, but it probably wouldnae hurt te rest fer a day. Ye'll likely have a verra nasty headache," I told him. "I do have a wee bit of peppermint oil I can give ye."

"Did ye no' touch the horseshoe, man?" the sailor asked Manzetti.

"I did, Mr. Warren! We all did!" Manzetti replied desperately.

"Try not te move, please," I said as I continued to stitch his wound. "Accidents do happen, Mr. Warren. It seems te me like this is one."

"I'm sure ye believe that, Mrs. Fraser, but when ye've been at sea as long as we have… Well, 'there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in yer philosophy'," Mr. Warren told me.

"Just wanted te see if everrathin' was all right?" I heard Caoimhe say from the doorframe to the infirmary, and I glanced up to see her standing there.

"Everrathin's all right, hen. No major damage," I told her as I finished up Manzetti's stitches. "I grew up in the isles, Mr. Warren. I ken verra well aboot the beliefs of sailors."

"Then ye should ken fine tha' ye, Mistress MacKimmie and Mistress Fowlis should be barin' yer breasts te the sea," said Mr. Warren somewhat coldly. "Otherwise, yer bad luck, the lot of ye." I scoffed. "A woman's bare breasts calm an angry sea."

"I'd do it," said Caoimhe, and my head snapped up to look at her.

"No the hell ye will not ," I told her firmly.

"Fear not, ma'am. The figurehead at the bow bears her breasts for ya and prevents us from being subject to any curses," said Manzetti, chiming in beneath me.

"Well, how kind of her," I said. "See that, Caoimhe? There's already a lass doin' it fer ye."

"But the horseshoe is much more complicated," said Mr. Warren. "There is no substitute. I've sailed on many a ship and on each one, the men have their superstitions."

"I'm no' discountin' the superstitions of sailors, Mr. Warren. As I've said, I grew up on an isle, I've heard and seen them all. However, I am also a woman of science," I told him.

"So ye dinnae believe it," said Mr. Warren. "Bein' raised on an isle doesnae compare te bein' on a ship fer months at a time. Men often lose faith when potents signify disaster. It matters no' what ye think of touchin' a wee piece of iron can do fer luck, the men believe in it."

"And now they think someone hasnae," said Archie suddenly, having joined us. "There's a witch hunt up there fer the man that didnae touch the horseshoe."

"Wonderful," I said with a sigh. "Mr. Manzetti, yer clear te leave. I'd advise ye te rest fer the day and return te light work tomorrow. I'll have a look at these stitches in three days te see how they're healin'."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fraser," said Manzetti.

"I'll accompany ye te the hold," said Mr. Warren, giving me a strange look as he left.

"Dinnae give me that look. I touched the horseshoe," I told him as he left. I then let out a sigh as I went to the small fire with a cauldron of boiling water, then put my used tools inside of it to sterilise them.

"I didnae touch the horseshoe," Caoimhe said suddenly.

"Caoimhe!" Archie exclaimed, hissing quietly.

"I was in a barrel! I didnae have the chance te touch it before we left!" Caoimhe snapped back at him.

"We'll no' tell the men that. I'll not have them throwin' ye overboard," I told her as I turned to face her. "If anyone asks, ye touched it. Aye?" She nodded, though she appeared rather uneasy.

"Ye cannae just lie te them, Mama. Lyin's just as bad," Archie told me.

"Then ye'll keep yer mouth shut as well, Archie Fraser. Dinnae let them throw yer cousin overboard," I told him somewhat firmly, then I made my way to my notebook to write in this latest patient's details.


14 December, 1766

JAMIE POV

Jamie was lying down in his cabin, his face pale and sweaty as he cradled a bucket in his arms. A knock suddenly sounded at the door, and Jamie groaned in response. "Come in, if ye dinnae mind the pungent reek of vomit," he said miserably, and the door opened to reveal Fergus with a cup of tea in his hand.

"Milord, Milady has sent some ginger tea to aid your stomach," said Fergus, bringing the tea to Jamie, who made a face at it and gestured for him to put it on the barrel beside the bed. "I shall let you rest, Milord."

"Wait a moment," said Jamie, stopping Fergus in his tracks. "Have a seat, lad…" He gestured to a chair in the corner of the room, and Fergus sat down obediently. "Now… Firstly, I cannae believe ye lied te me… Courtin' since August? Why would ye hide that from me, Fergus? Since when do ye lie te me?"

"It was for the same reason you did not tell Milady about Mrs. MacKimmie, Milord… I was a coward," Fergus replied, a meek look on his face.

"Did ye lie te Marsali, too?" Jamie asked him, and Fergus scrunched up his face in brief confusion.

"Marsali and I do not have secrets, Milord," he said in response.

"So she kens aboot yer past?"

"That I grew up in a brothel?" Fergus chuckled lightly at that. "Yes, and that I was a pickpocket."

"What aboot yer other lassies?" This made the smile on Fergus's face fade a little.

"No, but…"

"In spring, it was Aileen. And in the summer, I believe it was Rhona, aye? And then ye bedded Cairstine… and was there no' a Julia as well?" Jamie asked his adopted son.

"Oh, no, Milord. It was Archie who took Julia to bed," said Fergus, and Jamie sighed and shook his head. Where had his lads learned to behave this way? "I understand your concerns, Milord, but I have not lain with Marsali, or with any woman since we began our courtship. I have waited. Does that not mean something?" At this, Jamie let out another soft sigh.

"Not if ye cannae be honest wi' her," said Jamie, and this seemed to upset Fergus quite a bit.

"You are one to speak such words, Milord, when you were not honest with Milady," he said to Jamie rather irritably.

"Aye, but I am now. She kens everrathin', and I've no' lied te her since I told her the truth," Jamie told him, and Fergus scoffed.

"There will be something yet again, I am sure of it," said Fergus. "You need your rest, Milord. I must go."

"Fergus," Jamie called after him weakly, but Fergus had already left. Lying back down, Jamie let out a frustrated huff, then glanced at the teacup beside him. Grimacing at the flavour he knew was to come, he picked up the cup and downed it in one sip, then laid down his head to rest.

He was awoken again sometime later by another knock on the door, which Jamie bade them enter. He noticed he was now covered by Catrìona's tartan and a damp towel on his head - she must have come by to check on him and left him to rest. The door opened to reveal Mr. Willoughby, who bowed to Jamie as he entered the room. "I come to see how you feel, Tsei-mi," Willoughby said to Jamie, who was about to respond, but then became overwhelmed by the urge to vomit and turned over to spew the contents of his stomach into his bucket. "How long must you continue this farce, Tsei-mi?" Jamie groaned softly.

"I must… allow time fer… my wife's tea te work…" Jamie muttered weakly.

"This sickness, it eat your stomach, it tear your muscle, but worst of all, your testicle get twisted. Most painful," Willoughby said to Jamie with dramatics, which made Jamie open one eye and look at him in horror. "The only cure is removal. But if you wish to wait, that is your choice."

"Like hell I will," Jamie growled quietly. "What suggestions do ye have, Willoughby?"


28 December, 1766

CATRÌONA POV

The days began to mix together, so I started keeping a journal of things that happened on a day to day basis to keep my mind occupied and stimulated.

17 December - Another sail fell and injured a sailor by the name of Archer. Most definitely concussed, he will rest for a week in the infirmary. Will check on him periodically.

18 December - Caoimhe came to me searching for a rag for her menstrual cycle. I provided her with a tip - soaking in vinegar and wearing a pair of knickers. I instructed her on how to make them, and she returned later that day wearing a pair of trousers, believing them to be much more comfortable. I told her she must wear them underneath her skirts when it saw the sailors staring at her. Archer is still in the infirmary resting. He sleeps much of the day.

19 December - Marsali continues to call me a whore. It's exhausting. Caoimhe told me she keeps her awake by tossing and turning all night and complaining of boredom. I gave Marsali a notebook and told her to use her imagination. She made a face at me, but accepted it upon Fergus's insistence. Archer was awake and talking this morning, but has been sleeping since the afternoon. I will try to rouse him shortly.

20 December - Archer cannot be roused. I fear he has had a catastrophic brain bleed and has slipped into a coma. If he does not wake soon, he will likely die. Archie started a small band with some of the sailors using handmade instruments. They sing songs to keep spirits up, but with things going wrong left and right, the sailors are uneasy.

21 December - I came to the infirmary to check on Archer to find that he had passed away. He was buried at sea, wrapped in a cloth that was stitched shut, with the final stitch having gone through his nose. The sailors are especially uneasy now that there has been a death on the ship.

Injuries and ailments came to me daily, including what looked like food poisoning of some type. It started with one patient, and then three, and then seven. I checked the supplies to find that some of the meat had not been preserved properly and had spoiled, resulting in food poisoning. Caoimhe helped me tend to the sailors, but it was exhausting work because I had to keep them hydrated and feed them plain oats to sustain them. When Caoimhe, and surprisingly, Marsali, agreed to stay in the infirmary to give me a chance to rest, I went back to my cabin to find Jamie pleasantly surprised to see me. "Hello, my beautiful wife," he said to me, but I only let out a sigh.

"Yer feelin' better," I said, lying down on the bed, and he sat down next to me.

"Aye, yer teas are a blessin'," he told me, bending down to kiss my head. "I've missed ye, these last few weeks…"

"Jamie, I'm no' in the mood. I'm verra tired and just want te sleep," I told him, closing my eyes as I got comfortable on the bed, and Jamie let out a sigh.

"Will ye have me again soon?" he asked me.

"Can I just get through this food poisonin' epidemic first?" I asked him. "Ye've no idea how exhaustin' it is."

"Lookin' at ye, I think I have an idea," Jamie replied, lying down quietly beside me. "Ye ken I love ye, aye?"

"Of course I do, Jamie," I said somewhat irritably, just wanting to sleep. For a moment, he was silent before he spoke to me again.

"Do ye love me, as well?" he asked me, and I let out a frustrated groan and sat up.

"I'll go and sleep elsewhere," I said irritably, standing up to leave the cabin.

"Catrìona, it's a simple thing!" Jamie said after me, and I huffed.

"Fine. I love ye, too, Jamie. I just want te sleep," I told him, leaving our cabin to go to Marsali and Caoimhe's instead. I certainly didn't mean to push him away. I was exhausted and sick of dealing with needy men that Jamie pushing for sex when all I wanted to do was sleep was a little frustrating. Not to mention, something just felt… off. Even when I was working in the hospitals on battlefields, I hadn't felt nearly as tired as I did when tending to just a few sailors with food poisoning, and it wasn't like I was much older. Hell, right before I came back to the eighteenth century, I had been working for nearly thirty-six hours with barely any sleep in the hospital in Edinburgh, where I saw literally dozens upon dozens of wounded soldiers. So why suddenly was I so tired tending to only a handful of sailors? It didn't make much sense to me, but frankly, I was too tired to figure it out. I climbed into the lower bunk of the beds in the girls' cabin and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.