10 March, 1767
Saint-Domingue, The Indies
CAOIMHE POV
With a small basket in hand, Caoimhe picked wild garlic from the grassy hill on the isle of Saint-Domingue, an island claimed by Spain and still under its control. With her basket nearly full, she took a few further steps up to the top of the hill, finding a great supply of wild garlic down on the other side. Lifting her skirts, she made to take a few steps down, but found herself suddenly stopped by Captain Leonard. "Miss Fowlis," he said, stopping her in her tracks.
"Oh, good day te ye, Captain Leonard," Caoimhe said to him, pushing her tricorn hat up so she could see him better. "I suppose the goats are suppin' well?"
"Indeed," said Captain Leonard, evidently suspicious of her.
"Is everrathin' well, Captain?" Caoimhe asked him, getting a little nervous, but masking it well.
"I had thought that the men would find their proximity to a brothel too appealing to resist. I had not thought that you would disobey my orders to not wander," Captain Leonard told her.
"Wander? Oh, no, I'm no' wanderin', I'm only replenishin' our herb supply," Caoimhe told him, showing him her basket. "Wild garlic. It's verra good fer sickness."
"Hm. In the direction of port?" Captain Leonard asked her.
"Port?" Caoimhe asked, looking up and seeing off in the distance a settlement. "Oh… Truthfully, I didnae see it, Captain. My focus was on the garlic."
"Where is your aunt?" Captain Leonard asked her.
"My aunt?" Caoimhe asked, looking around the area. "Oh, I thought she was here… She may still be on the ship tendin' te the ill."
"She has not been seen, and you are well aware her brightly-coloured hair is difficult to miss," said Captain Leonard to her. "I should like to see you in my quarters, Miss Fowlis."
"Of course, Captain," Caoimhe told him.
"I advise you to return to the ship," Captain Leonard replied suspiciously, and Caoimhe nodded.
"Yes, sir," she said, bowing her head to him, and then she picked up her skirts and made her way up to the ship again. First, Caoimhe brought the freshly picked herbs to her quarters, replenishing empty jars, before she went to where Captain Leonard had been staying, being admitted by the guard he had placed there. After a while, the door opened and Captain Leonard stepped in, closing the door behind him.
"The ship has been searched, and Mrs. Malcolm is nowhere to be found," said Captain Leonard rather severely, and Caoimhe raised an eyebrow.
"Mrs. Malcolm?" Caoimhe asked.
"Ah, you have confirmed my suspicions. 'Malcolm' is neither the name of your aunt, nor her husband," Captain Leonard told her. "What is her true name?"
"I… I'm confused on where this all comin' from. What do ye mean my aunt is nowhere te be found?" Caoimhe asked, feigning a concerned tone and expression. "She must be on the ship."
"When did you last see your aunt, Miss Fowlis? If that is even your name," Captain Leonard said as he sat down across from Caoimhe.
"My name is as ye've heard it. Caoimhe Caitriona Erin Fowlis, if ye must ken," Caoimhe told him. "Ever heard of the Laird of Cìosamul? He's my father."
"So I see," said Captain Leonard, the realisation dawning on his face. "I have heard that the Laird of Cìosamul was formerly known as the Black Fowlis, and his sister was the notorious Red Witch." At this, Caoimhe realised that she had just given away her aunt's identity, and she steeled her face.
"So ye have seen," she replied.
"Where is your aunt?" Captain Leonard asked her again.
"I dinnae ken, and tha's the truth. As fer what happened te her… That I cannae say, either. She learned of yer suspicions of my uncle and wanted te warn him. Whether she will, I cannae tell ye," Caoimhe told him, and Captain Leonard narrowed his eyes at her.
"She's jumped from the ship? When?" he demanded of her.
"I dinnae ken, I wasnae with her," Caoimhe told him.
"I cannot allow her to warn her husband! I am duty bound to report his crimes to the authorities in Jamaica," Captain Leonard growled.
"And ye would have used her as bait, wouldnae ye?" Caoimhe asked him. "Make no mistake, Captain Leonard. My aunt is a fierce woman. She isnae meek or obedient, nor is she one ye want te mistake fer weak. My aunt has endured things ye could only dream of. Ye've underestimated her, and now she's gone off. Ye've only yerself to blame."
"I believe you are hiding something from me," said Captain Leonard fiercely.
"Nope, I've told ye all I ken. What more do ye want? Do ye want me te pull somethin' out of my arse and pray fer rain?" she asked him in a taunting tone.
"Were I not in need of your services, Miss Fowlis, I would have you locked up for such insolence. I will have you closely monitored. From dawn until dusk, you will have eyes on you at all times, and a guard will be posted outside of your door," Captain Leonard told her firmly.
"I'd expect nothin' less," Caoimhe replied. "I dinnae fear ye, Captain Leonard. I hope ye ken tha'."
"Perhaps you should," he warned her, and then he stood back up and opened the door, beckoning her to leave. "And for the record, I will be reclaiming my quarters. You will stay in this one." With a subtle nod, she left, making her way back to the sick deck. She glanced briefly over her shoulder at the island, hoping to God that Auntie Cat made it safely.
CATRÌONA POV
My mouth and nostrils filled with seawater and I coughed, spitting it out just as I realised I was on solid land. I opened my eyes and saw nothing but sand, mangroves up ahead of me, and the warm ocean waves circling me before being carried back out. I pushed myself up, my hands sinking into the sand, and glanced down at my legs and belly, half expecting to see blood, and let out a sigh of relief when I saw that there was none. "Oh, thank Christ," I said, rolling over onto my back and laying a hand on my growing bump. "Yer all right, weeun… And so am I. We're all right… and on land." I took a few minutes to lay in the sand, allowing the waves to brush up against me, until I realised that the tide was coming in, which meant that I needed to get up. I pushed myself up to stand, wringing out my skirts and glancing up at the mangroves ahead of me. Some of them were soaking in a tide pool, while others were dry and waiting for the tide to come in. My stomach growled, indicating that I was hungry, so I took a few steps forward to kneel down in the dry sand and went through the contents of my pockets.
Glasses - better put those on or else I can't see. The mirror - damn it, I meant to give that to Caoimhe. Oh well, nothing to be done for it now. My bow, folded up, but no arrows, of course. I'd have to find a way to make some. A knife - good, I definitely needed that. The little bottle of alcohol, three quarters full. That was it. Well, some things could be fairly useful. I opened up the bow and extended it, then took the knife and sharpened the pointed ends of it. If I didn't have arrows, the least I could do was use it as a skewer, practically. Taking the sharpened bow, I went over to the tide pools, searching for any kind of fish. There were some little fish, but they wouldn't provide good sustenance. A little lobster - lobsters lived down here? That wee thing must have been lost. Nevermind him, he was too small to bother with. His shell alone wasn't worth the effort. Nothing, nothing… Triggerfish. Those were edible, and they were quite good, too. And he was big , at least twenty inches long. "Oh, ye'll make a good meal fer me, willnae ye, a charaid? " I asked the fish. I plotted my attack, watching it swim about, mentally calculated where I would need to throw my bow in order to skewer it. On the bright side, it was in a tide pool, so I could go after it for as long as I needed to, until the tide came in, but it would be much easier if I could just get it in one throw. I waited… waited… waited… Go.
It was pinned underneath my bow, a small cloud of its blood surrounding it in the water. "Got ye!" I exclaimed, lifting the bow with the triggerfish on the other end. "Thanks fer bein' easy, wee fishy," I said to it, carrying it back to where I had left my things. I glanced upwards at the seagulls that had appeared and settled for burying my fish in the sand so they wouldn't get to it, then went to collect dry wood for a fire. Ah, the mirror came in useful after all - I used it to reflect the sunlight to heat the wood, which eventually started a fire, then I dug up my fish, washed it off in the sea, gutted it and removed the scales, and cooked it to perfection. God, I hope this thing doesnae have parasites , I muttered quietly to myself as I ate that delicious fish. As I ate in peace, I wiped sweat from my forehead, then realised my arms were starting to turn pink. I was no stranger to sunburn, of course - on very sunny days in Scotland, I could get burned easily, but here, the sun's rays were so much more powerful, which meant I needed to find shade, and quickly. Once I finished my fish, I packed my things into my pockets and went into the mangroves, following a shallow path. I had to remove my boots and stockings to avoid getting trenchfoot and carried them in my hand, my bow strung over my back on the hunt for civilisation.
There was a rule of threes when it came to survival in such rugged conditions as this: three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food. All around me was saltwater, but that wouldn't help me - I needed to find fresh water, and quickly. Not only did I need it for myself, but I needed it for my bairn as well. Further inland was the best place to look.
For a day, I failed to find fresh water, and my parched lips and throat suffered for it. On the second day of being on the island, I noticed dark clouds coming in and prayed silently for rain. I found out as the day went on that it wasn't just rain coming in - it was a storm. I could see the waves beginning to increase in power, meaning that the storm, now safely out at sea, was coming nearer, which meant that I needed to find higher ground, and fast.
12 March, 1767
The Porpoise
CAOIMHE POV
The wind was ferocious, but Captain Leonard assured them that the storm was behind them as they sailed onto Jamaica. Caoimhe had to hold onto her hat as she made her way up to the top deck, where the sick were still laying. She had brought them some gruel, and knelt down beside Elias with a tankard of it, trying to give him a spoonful. He wasn't interested, and Caoimhe let out a sigh. "Ye must eat, Elias. Ye have te keep yer strength up," she told him, but he shook his head.
"No… Mother… not… hungry…" he murmured weakly, which broke Caoimhe's heart. He was delirious and refusing food - the last sign before death took them.
"All right, darlin'," Caoimhe told him, setting down the tankard and running a hand through his hair. She picked up a wet rag and dabbed his sweaty forehead, watching Elias as he closed his eyes. "Ye can rest if ye like. Ye dinnae need te keep yer eyes open on my account."
"No… Not… tired…" Elias told her.
"Yes ye are, chick. It's all right te sleep. I'll be right here by yer side," Caoimhe replied softly, grasping his hand with her other as she delicately stroked his hair.
"Mother…" he murmured quietly. "So… cold…"
"I know, chick. I know," said Caoimhe, trying to mimic an English accent to the best of her ability. She picked up a piece of muslin from nearby and laid it on top of him, rubbing his arms. "Is that better?"
"Yes," Elias replied quietly. "Thank you… Mother…"
"Of course," Caoimhe told him, smiling softly. "How about I sing ye a song? Would ye like that?" He didn't say anything, and still, Caoimhe smiled, trying to think of a song to sing. There was only one song she knew all of the words to in its entirety, and it was a song that had importance to both her mother and her father. She didn't know why, but often, she heard them singing it to each other, both in Irish and in Gaelic, which Caoimhe was fluent in both.
"Hò rò mo bhàta a' snàmh air a' chuan,
Hò rò mo bhàta…
Faigheamaid na ràmhan is rachamaid gu sàl…
Hò rò mo bhàta…
Hò rò mo chruach hò rò…
Hò rò mo bhàta…"
She smiled gently as she sang the song, remembering finding her parents in a quiet, private moment on a balcony in the castle, shortly before her mother had died. Daddy had a lute with him and he was singing the song to her while she sat on a bench and smiled up at him, her hand resting on her swollen belly. She was always such a beautiful woman, Mama was, and Daddy loved her so much. It was so obvious to see whenever anyone looked at them. Mama… Please take care of Elias for me. Help him to find his mother, and keep him safe for me. She glanced down at young Elias, who appeared to have fallen into a deep sleep. She brushed back a piece of his hair and bent down to press her lips to his forehead, then laid her hand over his on his chest.
"Goodnight, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee te thy rest," she muttered quietly, quoting Hamlet . She gently pressed her fingers to what Auntie Cat said was the carotid artery to check for a pulse and found it still. Elias had died, and it took all of her strength not to cry.
"Miss Fowlis," came the voice of Captain Leonard behind her, and she turned her head up to look at him. "I… understand this is a difficult time… But I feel I must remind you that speaking of the Scottish and Irish languages is discouraged. You must know that the languages were outlawed over a century ago and you should not even know how to speak it to begin with."
"Thank ye fer tha', Captain Leonard," Caoimhe told him neutrally, trying not to be insulted by this inconsiderate bastard. She stood up, sniffling a little and using a handkerchief to wipe her eyes. "I'm afraid Mr. Pound has… departed this earth. He joins the other three who have died today."
"And with us mere days away from Jamaica. I would have thought it would have gotten better by this point," said Captain Leonard with distress. "Men, another deceased."
"There's no new cases, havenae been since Mr. Pound fell ill," Caoimhe told him, getting control over herself.
"And yet, men are still dying," said Captain Leonard with frustration. "Your aunt was selfish for leaving us in such a time of need." He turned to leave, leaving Caoimhe to make a face at him and turn back to the men who were stitching the muslin around Elias, preparing him for a sea burial.
"Let me do it," Caoimhe said as they approached the final stitch. "The last one… should be done by a friend."
"Aye, miss," said one of the men, who was also Scottish like her, and he handed her the needle and thread. "I must say… hearin' the Gaelic tongue again… it reminded me of my mother. She died followin' the uprisin', and me father died at Culloden."
"I'm sorry te hear," said Caoimhe, taking the thread from him. "What's yer name?"
"James MacGillivray, Mistress," he said to her.
"Caoimhe Fowlis," Caoimhe told him. "My father and uncle fought beside yer father."
"I heard ye were the daughter of the Black Fowlis," said Mr. MacGillivray with a soft smile. "Oh, here. Ye must do this then." Mr. MacGillivray stood up and stepped away, clearing Elias's side so Caoimhe could kneel down beside him. She got one last look at his face - he had died so recently that he didn't look dead. The blood hadn't drained from his face yet, and he only looked asleep. She thought suddenly of an old prayer she heard Mrs. Fitzwilliam at Cìosamul saying over the body of a man who had washed up in Castlebay, then cleared her throat a little to recite it.
" Thou goest home this night te thy home of winter,
Te thy home of autumn, of spring, and of summer;
Thou goest home this night te thy perpetual home,
Te thine eternal bed, te thine eternal slumber…"
She was a little surprised when Mr. MacGillivray joined her in reciting the blessing, and she smiled softly at him. He, too, was fair-haired, like she was, and was close in age to thirty.
" Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow,
Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow,
Sleep thou, sleep, and away with thy sorrow;
Sleep, thou beloved, in the Rock of the fold."
Caoimhe was further surprised when another Scottish sailor, his tricorn hat pressed against his chest over his heart, joined her and Mr. MacGillivray in the Scottish prayer.
"Sleep this night in the breast of thy Mother,
Sleep, thou beloved, while she herself soothes thee;
Sleep thou this night on the Virgin's arm,
Sleep, thou beloved, while she herself kisses thee.
The great sleep of Jesus, the surpassing sleep of Jesus,
The sleep of Jesus's wound, the sleep of Jesus's grief,
The young sleep of Jesus, the restoring sleep of Jesus,
The sleep of the kiss of Jesus of peace and of glory.
The sleep of the seven lights be thine, beloved,
The sleep of the seven joys be thine, beloved,
The sleep of the seven slumbers be thine, beloved…"
The others paused, allowing Caoimhe to have the final line, and she brushed back young Elias Pound's hair, and she crossed him, touching his face, cheeks, and heart.
"On the arm of the Jesus of blessin's, the Christ of grace," she said, and then she closed up the muslin wrap, putting in the final stitch through Elias's nose.
"Amen," muttered Mr. MacGillivray, crossing himself as well.
13 March, 1767
LORD JOHN POV
After receiving news that no men had died since the previous day, John came out of his quarters to enjoy a bit of sun, something he wasn't all that used to in England. It surprised him how hot it was - of course, it was hot in his quarters, but at least he had shade. Out here on the deck, it was horribly hot, and the dark clouds out in the distance made him a little uneasy. He searched the deck for the red hair of Doctor Fowlis, having hoped to have another chance at identifying where he knew her from, but her red hair was nowhere to be found. There was, however, a fair-haired girl wearing a tricorn hat carrying a bucket across the deck to the few sick men that remained. He watched as she rolled up her sleeves and fed the men whatever was in the bucket, and when she was on her way back to the galley, he called out to her.
"I beg your pardon, Ma'am!" he called to her, and she turned to look up at him.
"Me?" she asked, and he nodded.
"Yes, ma'am. Would you mind coming here a moment?" John asked her.
"Certainly, though I must get back te my work," the girl told him, climbing the stairs to the upper deck. "How can I help ye, sir? I dinnae believe we've met yet. Are ye the important passenger?" John couldn't help but chuckle lightly at this.
"So I must be. I am to be the Governor of Jamaica," John told her. "Lord John Grey, at your service."
"Lord Grey?" the girl asked him, giving him a small smile. "No' the verra same that came te Barra te fetch my cousin, were ye? Oh!" She covered her mouth, and John knit his brow in curiosity. Went to Barra to fetch her cousin? Why, the only time he had ever been to Barra was-
"Catrìona Fraser?" John spit out suddenly, Doctor Fowlis's identity suddenly dawning on him. "Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry. You see, I am very good friends with Mrs. Fraser's husband. I had thought her to be… Well, dead." The girl still had her hand over her mouth, but she did peer at him curiously as she lowered it.
"What do ye mean yer friends wi' my aunt's husband?" she asked him.
"James Fraser, you mean?" John asked her. "Why, we became friends years ago. I had not heard much about him. I presume he's the reason Mrs. Fraser is no longer aboard this vessel?"
"Somethin' like tha'," the girl replied quietly. "We were kidnapped, ye see, by this ship, and when my aunt heard tha' Captain Leonard wants te cause trouble fer my uncle, she… well, she left te warn him. I hope she's found a way te him. I dinnae ken how, we've no' seen the Artemis in weeks. Oh, I dinnae ken why I'm tellin' ye this, but if yer a friend te my Uncle Jamie, I'm hopin' ye'll help him." At this, John's face changed into one of concern.
"Of course, I will always help Jamie. What on earth has he gotten into now?" John asked her.
"I dinnae ken fer sure, but from what I understand, he's in a pot of trouble. All my auntie had te say aboot it was he was involved in 'shady shit in Edinburgh, pardon my tongue. 'Tis her words, no' mine. I dinnae ken what it means, though," the girl told him, and John let out a soft sigh.
"The man cannot keep out of trouble for a day in his life," he said, and then he chuckled softly, knowing his old friend well. "Oh, I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I do not believe I caught your name."
"Caoimhe Fowlis, sir. We met once, when ye came te fetch Archie from Cìosamul Castle. 'Course I was much younger then," the girl called Caoimhe replied.
"The fair-haired girl! Yes, I do recall that we met, though briefly. My, you have blossomed into quite a beautiful young woman, Miss Fowlis," said John with pride, and Caoimhe's cheeks flushed pink.
"Thank ye kindly, sir. If ye'll pardon me, I must return te my work. There's mouths te feed and sick te tend te," Caoimhe told him, and then she curtsied to him. "Good day te ye, Lord Governor Grey." She gave him a smile, and then she was off, leaving John to wonder what on earth Jamie had done now. He would have to ask Captain Leonard about it, surely he knew something.
16 March, 1767
Saint-Domingue, The Indies
CATRÌONA POV
When the storm surge hit, I was carried even further inland. I nearly drowned in the mangroves, having been caught up in their roots and unable to free myself. Once I finally did, I immediately climbed up to the top, above the ferocious waves brought on by what could only be a hurricane. It was strange, considering it was early for hurricane season, however, I didn't know the weather patterns of this time.
I couldn't see anything above the flying debris and my soaked-through hair. I removed my glasses and stuck them in my pocket since they were useless against the rain. The branch I had held onto firmly suddenly gave way in the storm and I got swept out - or in, I truly had no idea anymore. It was a challenge to keep my head above the water and I clung to that branch as tightly as I could, praying to any god or goddess that would listen to spare my life and that of the child inside of me. At the very least, let me live long enough to bring this child safely into the world, then you could have me in whatever way you want. I bashed my head on something, and memories of my youth suddenly flashed before my eyes, surrounded by a ring of darkness.
"I've gotten it all in one peel!" a twelve-year-old version of me shouted with glee.
"Go on, toss it over yer shoulder!" There were girls my age with me, and we were inside of a dance hall where my mother, brothers and I had just sung to celebrate Beltane. As part of the traditions, young girls would peel oranges and toss the peels over their shoulders to see what letter it would form, and that letter was the first initial of your future husband's name. We all lined up, one by one, with our orange peels in our hands.
"May Queen, May Queen, who will we marry?" we all chanted in unison, and then we tossed the peels over our shoulders.
"I got a 'G'!"
"Ye'll be marryin' Gerald, I'll bet!"
"Mine looks like an… M? Or an 'N'? Is that even big enough te count as an 'M'?"
"I'd count it, otherwise ye'll be marryin' Stormy Norman!" Girlish giggles surrounded me as I turned to look at my own peel. It looked like a straight line with a cross at the top, but there was a small portion that curved upwards.
"Catrìona got a 'J'!"
"What? No! It's a 'T' fer certain!"
"What do ye think, Catrìona? Is it a 'J' or a 'T'?" Turns out it was both.
I regained full consciousness and realised a taller tree was coming up, so when I passed under it, I reached up and grabbed it, dislocating my shoulder in the process. I let out a cry, but refused to let go, and then eventually got my good arm up and wrapped it around the bench. I pulled myself up to stand on the branch and climbed to an even higher one, tucking myself into the small little protective cave the leaves and branches around me made. "Son of a bleedin' bitch," I murmured as I felt my shoulder joint to determine the type of dislocation, and then I forced it back into place, hardly able to hear the loud accompanying 'crack' indicating that it was back in place over the roar of the sea and wind. "Oh, blessed fuckin' Bride," I murmured through gritted teeth, feeling horribly sore from the injury. I pulled out the bottle of pure alcohol, which miraculously hadn't broken, opened it, and took a swig to help me numb the pain, then closed my eyes.
I was surprised when what felt like moments later, I heard nothing but still silence. Behind my eyelids, I could see that the area around me was bright, as if the sun had poked out from the clouds again, so I opened my eyes and saw that there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The storm had passed, leaving a wake of destruction in its path beneath me, but it had passed. Finally, I could continue on my way to finding civilisation-
I froze when I realised there was a heavy weight on me, and I glanced down and let out a soft gasp. "Blessed fuckin' Christ," I murmured as I realised there was a giagantic boa constrictor sitting on my chest and lap, practically tying me to the branch like a rope. "Nice snakey… nice snakey… I can assure ye, I wouldnae make a verra good snack. I'll bet there's a tasty bird somewhere, aye?" I tried to shift a little, but the snake hissed and seemed to tighten its grip. If I wanted to escape, I needed to do it fast, and that was going to be difficult with one very injured arm. I lifted my head and looked above me, seeing a branch within my reach. Okay… okay… Now! I reached up with my good arm and grabbed the branch, then used my other arm to shove the snake off of me and kicked it with my feet, watching it fall heavily to the ground. Angrily, the snake slithered off, its beady little eyes hunting for new prey.
Carefully, I made my way down from the tree, careful not to injure my arm any further than I already had, and followed the path that had been cleared out by the sea. I didn't know how long I had followed it, but I became startled when I saw what looked to be a sheep cross out in front of me. The little sheep - or lamb, rather - paused and looked at me, then bleated and continued on.
"Lucy! My darling little Lucy, where have you gone?" called a voice, and I was startled when I heard it. It sounded English, but I didn't have enough time to dart into hiding when through the brush, a man emerged and seemed startled by me as well. "Oh, good heavens! A white woman!" he cried, and I raised an eyebrow at him?
"I beg yer pardon? Yer as white as I am," I said to him, noticing this man had the complexion of sand, same as me - or rather, I usually did, when I wasn't burnt to an absolute crisp and blistering.
"And you're Irish!" he exclaimed with joy.
"Scottish, actually. If ye dinnae mind me askin', who are ye? Are ye from the town?" I asked him, hoping that I was close to the port town so I could buy passage onto a ship to Jamaica. With what money, I didn't know, but I would find a way.
"The town? Oh, no, my dear, not at all! In fact, we are quite far from the town," he told me. "My name is Father Fogden. Your most obedient servant, madam. May I offer you refreshments? My home is not far."
"Like water?" I asked him, licking my dry, burned lips.
"Oh, yes, we have plenty! Come, come. Oh, you poor dear, you must be positively parched!" Father Fogden exclaimed, ushering me to follow him, which I did, rather hesitantly. How could I know for certain if I could trust this man? At that time, however, I didn't care, because he had water, which I was in desperate need of.
15 March, 1767
The Artemis
JAMIE POV
Jamie and Archie were both brought up to the deck and immediately found out why. It was clear that the ship was sailing straight into a storm, and it would be all hands on deck, given its intensity. "Mr. Fraser, lad," said Captain Raines to the two of them when they had been brought up. "As ye can see, we're in need of yer services just now. I need all good and able men on deck."
"So we're good and able now, are we?" Jamie asked him a bit harshly.
"Da," Archie said to him, trying to end a brewing argument before it even started.
"This storm's gettin' rougher by the moment. If we're te avoid sinkin', I need ye all. Mr. Warren!" called Captain Raines.
"By the mark!" called Mr. Warren to the men. "Steady now! Get tha' sail te half! Fraser!"
"On it!" Archie called, going to the center mast and climbing it like a squirrel to get up to the sails.
"Batten down the hatches!" shouted Captain Raines, making his way to the helm. "Fraser! Tie down the cannons!"
"Aye," Jamie called back, joining Manzetti in tying down the cannons to secure them to the deck. The waves were rough, and without having had Willoughby's needle treatments, Jamie's seasickness had returned with a vengeance. He had to fight the urge to vomit, however, as he grasped ropes as tightly as his wet hands would allow him to keep the sails in place.
"Incoming!" a voice cried, and suddenly, the crow's nest came crashing down, the man inside of it dead immediately on impact.
"Archie?" Jamie called, but thankfully, the body in the nest wasn't his son. Where was Archie? Where was Fergus ? "Fergus?"
"Here, Milord!" came Fergus's French-accented voice from nearby, and Jamie spotted him struggling to hold onto a rope as the fierce wind carried the sails. It dawned on him that he had seen little of Fergus since he had refused to give his blessing, and when he had, Fergus seemed broody, as if he did not want to be there. He thought about how he would feel if Catrìona's father had lived and met him, and decided he wouldn't give Jamie his blessing to marry his daughter. He was sure that Archie Fowlis would have admired Jamie greatly, as Jamie did Fergus, and Jamie certainly didn't marry Catrìona under proper circumstances. Archie Fowlis, however, was a twenty-second century man - no, an eighteenth century man who travelled to the twenty-second century - and probably would have said that if Catrìona chose to marry Jamie, then he would give his blessing, too. Marsali was fierce like Catrìona, and quite strong, and Jamie knew that Fergus was a good man who would never harm Marsali.
"Fergus!" Jamie called to him. "If we survive this… ye have my blessin' te marry Marsali! In Jamaica, by way of a priest!"
"What is that, Milord?" Fergus asked, unable to hear him over the roar of sea and wind.
"Ye can marry Marsali!" Jamie called back to him. "Ye have my blessin'!"
"Really, Milord?" Fergus asked him with a hopeful tone. "Thank you! But let us survive this first, yes?"
"Aye, I agree," Jamie called back to him. Where the hell was Archie?
Suddenly appearing up at the helm, Archie dropped down from a batten up ahead and grasped the helm along with Raines, who seemed to be struggling with controlling it. Raines himself wasn't a young man anymore, easily a little older than Jamie, so when he realised how much easier the wheel turned with Archie's youthful strength, he stepped back. "Take the helm, lad! Have ye ever sailed through a storm before?" Raines shouted to Archie.
"No' a ship this large, sir!" Archie called back to him.
"Then steer with everra bit of strength ye have!" Raines called back. Suddenly, there was a loud crack, and Jamie looked up to see the middle mast suddenly falling down towards the deck, taking the sails with it.
"Watch out, Captain!" Archie shouted, jumping out of the way as the mast came crashing down. Jamie watched as Archie looked up in horror to see the mast had crushed both the helm and Captain Raines, leaving them with no Captain and no way of steering the ship. "The helm's gone! Where's Mr. Warren?" Archie called down to the crew on the deck.
"Warren!" called Manzetti's voice, but no answer came. "Mr. Warren!"
"He's gone overboard!" called Bailey, and then he looked to Jamie. "Yer next in charge! Yer the supercargo! That makes you Captain now, sir!"
"What?" Jamie exclaimed with shock. "I've never captained a ship in all my life! Archie would be better suited! Archie!" Jamie called up to his son. "Yer Captain now! Get us out of here!"
"The helm's gone, Da! I dinnae ken how I can!" Archie shouted back to him.
"Yer smart, lad. Figure it out!" Jamie called to him. He saw Archie push himself up to stand and go to the remnants of the helm, digging through the mess of broken wood and finding something.
"I need a pole! The tiller ropes are broken, I need someone te feed them back up te me!" Archie shouted down to the men.
"On it!" called Manzetti, running down into the hold. Though it was difficult, Manzetti and Archie had managed to feed the ropes that steered the rudder back up to where the helm used to be, and Archie wrapped both ropes around his hands and with sheer brute force, steered the ship by pulling and releasing them.
"Rocks!" shouted someone suddenly, and Jamie could see the shock and horror on Archie's face, but the warning came too late. The ship crashed straight into the rocks - or at least, crashed straight into something.
16 March, 1767
Saint-Domingue, The Indies
CATRÌONA POV
"Do tell me you were not caught out in such a horrible storm!" Father Fogden said to me as I ate my plate of food happily. It was spicier than anything I'd ever eaten before, and there were so many peppers in it, but I was so grateful to be eating something that I didn't have the heart to tell Father Fogden and the woman he lived with that I despised peppers with every ounce of my being.
"I was, as a matter of fact. No' the first time I'd been caught in a storm," I told him. "I'm from the isles of Scotland. Ocean storms are a sort of mild nuisance te me."
"I see! And what island did you come from? I am quite familiar with the isles of Scotland. Geography has always fascinated me," said Father Fogden, getting up and picking up a large book - an Atlas. "Coco finds it quite fascinating too, don't you, Coco?"
"Is tha' the woman ye…" I trailed off when I saw him pick up a coconut with one side of it shaved and a face carved into it, then realised that Coco was the coconut. "Ah." Father Fogden laid the atlas on the table and opened it up to a map of Scotland's islands, and I pointed out Barra specifically. "I'm from here - Barra."
"Barra! What a fascinating little island!" Father Fogden exclaimed with joy. "You are actually not the first I've met from Barra! Quite a lot of Fowlises from there."
"Oh, aye, I am as well. My maiden name is Fowlis," I told him, taking another bite of food. "Who's the woman ye live with? Is tha' yer wife?" The woman in question looked to be around Father Fogden's age. She was currently washing my clothes and had provided me with a dress of her own, but she was very large, and so was the dress on me, so I'd had to tie it with a rope. I had been glad to take a bath, which relieved a bit of the burns on my skin, and I was also given a bit of aloe gel. Mamacita had also assisted me with putting my injured arm in a sling.
"Who, Mamacita? Goodness, no!" said Father Fogden with a laugh. "Coco, we mustn't stare! It's rude!" he snapped at the coconut, turning it so that it's face was pointed away from me. "Yes, I know that she is a pretty lady. Not like my Ermenegilda, of course… Ermenegilda was the daughter of Mamacita."
"I see," I said, eyeing the coconut curiously. "Tell me… What isle is this?"
"Why, it is the island of Saint-Domingue," said Father Fogden.
"Saint-Domingue? Is tha' close te Jamaica?" I asked him.
"Why, yes, comparatively!" Father Fogden exclaimed. "From the village of St. Luis du Nord, they could go to Cap-Haitien and from there, Jamaica is, oh… no more than two days, with favourable wind." Two days… I could make it to Jamaica in two days' time. Would I beat the Porpoise ? Likely not, unless they were lost in the storm… Were Caoimhe not still on that ship, I would pray that they had been, so I hoped it had made it safely. But I would at least beat the Artemis , and I could warn Jamie in due time.
"So I could make it te Kingston on time," I muttered. "That'll be excellent! When can I leave?"
"Oh, goodness, you are so eager, are you not? You are in no condition to leave, madam!" said Father Fogden while chucking, which only annoyed me. "Oh, what is that, Coco? Oh , yes. An excellent point, indeed. Coco has just reminded me that if you were to go overland, you might encounter Maroons." I raised my eyebrow at this.
"The deep red colour?" I asked him.
"Escaped slaves, madam," Father Fogden replied. "Having fled their masters, they take refuge in the remote hills. They can be an unpredictable lot. I imagine you did not encounter any during that storm?" I shook my head. "You are quite fortunate. What of pirates? Is that how you came to be on this island?"
"No, none of those, either," I said quietly.
"Then you are very fortunate, indeed. Those unscrupulous ruffians are a blight upon our isle, ransacking and plundering whomsoever they like," said Father Fogden with bitterness right as Mamacita returned to the house. "Ah, Mamacita! I believe our guest will require a different clean garment. I fear this one is rather… indecent on her. Ermenegilda's dress, perhaps?" Mamacita scrunched up her face in disapproval, glaring down at me with fierce eyes.
" No. Demasiado pequeña para esa vaca ," she spat in Spanish, and then it was my turn to narrow my eyes.
"Who are you callin' a cow? I'm four months pregnant, ye auld besom!" I snapped back at her, and Father Fogden let out a cry.
" Puta alba," Mamacita growled at me.
"Oh, goodness! Then I most certainly cannot allow you to travel to St. Luis du Nord on your own! I must accompany you. Two weeks shall be enough," he said to me, taking notice of my condition, which was far more noticeable.
" Por qué su cabello se va extraño? " Mamacita asked Father Fogden.
"Mamacita, you must be kinder to our guest!" Father Fogden said to her, and then he looked at me. "She has asked why your hair looks strange."
"Oh, the brown? Aye, I suppose I can cut that off," I said, touching my hair. The red had grown past my chin at this point and rested on my shoulders. One thing that always frustrated me was how quickly my hair grew in. When I was younger, it needed constant grooming, and now that I had grown older, it was a little less high maintenance, but still needed to be cut down weekly. "Red hair… wasnae favoured where I was livin'… In America, that is. Er… Boston." It was the first city I could think of other than New York City.
"I see," said Father Fogden. "Still, we will wait until your arm has healed better."
"I'd rather no'. If ye willnae accompany, I'll go on my own," I told him. "I'd swim te bleedin' Jamaica before I'd wait two weeks."
"I most certainly cannot allow that!" Father Fogden exclaimed. "Mamacita, how dry are Mrs. Fraser's clothes?"
"Wet," she said, picking up an empty bucket. "The whore must go." With that said, she stormed out of the house with the bucket.
"Ah, you must forgive Mamacita. You see, my beloved Ermenegilda was Mamacita's only child. The agony of losing a daughter haunts her still," Father Fogden said to me.
"I can understand tha'," I replied, thinking of Maevis. "I… I've lost a daughter as well."
"So a visitor, especially one of the fairer sex… I suppose Mamacita fears that I will forget her daughter, which of course I could never do," Father Fogden explained to me. "When you love someone as much as I have loved Ermenegilda… It never leaves you."
"I ken that verra well myself," I said.
"I met her when I was much younger than I am today," Father Fogden continued. "I travelled to Cuba to do the work of God, tending to the needs of the poor and of those whose souls were in peril… and then I met her. Ermenegilda Ruiz Alcantara y Meroz. She was the wife of a man by the name of Don Armando, who was a cruel man if I have ever seen one, but one of great wealth. To my surprise, she longed for me, as I yearned to be with her, and our love could not be subdued. But with me being a man of the church, things… became complicated. So we ran off together, far from the grasp of Don Armando. It helped that it was the day the English invaded Cuba, so Don Armando could not locate us amidst the chaos. That was near thirty years ago, now. We came here hoping to live out our lives together, along with Mamacita, but… she fell ill. It was not long before she… May her soul rest in peace."
"I'm verra sorry te hear that. I thought my husband dead fer fifteen years, and was verra fortunate te learn he was alive," I said. "I ken the love that it was betwixt ye - it is the same love my husband and I share. We have spent more time apart than we have together and I dinnae wish te spend another moment apart from him while we still share this earth. So I must get te Jamaica as quickly as I can, or else I will lose him forever. Imagine if it was Ermenegilda waitin' fer ye, wi' the threat of the noose over her head, and ye could save her if ye could only get there in time."
"Ah, I see what you are doing… Yes, I suppose it is dire… I shall consult with Coco in the morning, yes? He will know if the time is right. Now, I must go and see to my goats. You are more than welcome to use the spare room to rest, if you would like," said Father Fogden, and I let out a heavy sigh and watched as he left. If this bastard wouldn't let me go to Jamaica, I'd get there myself, and put an end to anyone who got in my way. I did, however, decided that a few hours' rest while my clothes were drying wouldn't hurt, so I went into the room. There, hanging on the wall, was a beautiful dress of many colours - the dress of Ermenegilda. I approached the dress, delicately touching the fabric, feeling as if the spirit of Ermenegilda was there in the very fibers.
"Plead wi' him fer me… Please. I imagine ye would do whatever ye could te reach the man ye love. So help him te help me reach mine," I begged her quietly.
17 March, 1767
I woke up to find my clothes folded neatly beside me, freshly washed and mended, and the contents of my pockets were piled neatly on top. My bow, the mirror, the knife, the bottle, and everything else I had had with me. It was clear that Mamacita wanted me to go almost as badly as I did, but it all depended on Father Fogden. Perhaps I could take a peek in his Atlas to see if there was a map of Saint-Domingue and try to map out my own path to St. Luis du Nord. After dressing and replacing the contents of my pockets back inside, I went to pull out the Astlas when a cry outside suddenly put a stop to all of my plans.
"Oh, my poor Arabella!" cried Father Fogden's mournful tone, and I ran outside to see the man cradling the severed and skinned head of a sheep, clearly in distress. "If our Lord cares even for the tiny sparrow, how could he fail to care for my Arabella?"
"What's happened?" I asked him.
"Pirates!" he cried, and I followed him to a shed, where outside, he placed the bloody head of Arabella on a table and pulled out a jar of beetles. He then opened the jar and dumped it on the skinned head, and I watched in horror as the beetles devoured the skin. "I will place her skull on the mantle to honour her… Voracious little fellows, aren't they?" He must have seen the look of horror on my face.
"What are they?" I asked him.
"Insects from a sacred cave called Abandawe," he told me. Abandawe will devour ye…
"I… I beg yer pardon, but… from where?" I asked, a little unsettled as I heard Margaret Campbell's voice in the back of my mind.
"Abandawe," Father Fogden repeated. "It is a hallowed place to the natives of Jamaica. A place of great power. It is said that folk disappear from there." Disappear… like the stone circles in Scotland.
"Like a faery hill," I said. "Aye, we've a few of those in Scotland as well."
"Gosh, how could those wretched sailors do this to my beloved Arabella?" Father Fogden cried again as he watched the beetles devour the skin.
"Sailors?" I asked him. "I thought ye said they were pirates?"
"Pirates, sailors, whoever they may be," Father Fogden replied. "They have killed my Arabella, roasted her on a spit as though she were some feral animal! To think of her as a feast for a Chinaman…" At this, my eyes widened.
"A Chinaman?" I asked with a tone of hope in my voice. "Ye saw a Chinaman?"
"Mamacita did. It was she who found my poor Arabella. She said the Chinaman murdered her," said Father Fogden mournfully, and I began to step back.
"Where… Where's the ship he was on? Did it wash up on the shore wi' the storm?" I asked him, an urgent tone to my voice.
"Oh, yes. Mamacita said there was a ship with many sailors and broken sails. She said a red-haired man was commanding them and they had buried two men in the sand," Father Fogden told me. "But what does it matter? Those heathens ate my Arabella."
"The ship… on the beach… Oh, Jamie!" I cried, and I turned and ran as fast as I could in the direction of the shore. My Jamie was there! Without even thinking, I ran, feeling myself drawn to him like a magnet. It didn't matter that I had no clue where I was going, my heart did, and like a compass, it directed me to where my beloved Jamie was. "AGH!" I cried out when a sharp branch grabbed onto my sling and tore it in two, stabbing me in the arm, but I didn't care. I ran on, feeling the warm liquid blood run down my arm as I saw the sand and shore up ahead. "JAMIE!" I called, coming to a stop at the line between the sand and the forest, but I didn't see any ship. I saw remnants of a shipwreck, and two graves headed with crosses, but I didn't see the ship itself, or its red-haired Captain. "Jamie!" I called again, looking around, and then I spotted it in the water, seemingly anchored out in the bay and waiting for the right tide to leave. "JAMIE! Jamie, I'm here!" I called, jumping up and down and waving my arms above my head, not even caring about the pain in my shoulder or the blood being splattered all over my face and shirtwaist. "Jamie! Please… Please, Jamie!" I wanted to cry - he couldn't see me, nor could he hear me. How could I signal to let him know I was here?
Wait. The mirror! I knew it would be useful for something beyond starting a fire! With my good arm, I pulled it out of my pocket and located the sun, then reflected the sunlight back to the ship. On the sails, I could faintly see the light that was casting onto it, and then using that mirror, I signalled to him. "Come and get me, Jamie… Come on, please…"
The Artemis
ARCHIE POV
"The sea holds such untold dangers!" Hayes cried out, still shaken up by the storm, and Archie couldn't help but laugh.
"Aye, seen and unseen. Ever heard the story of the kraken?" Archie teased him.
"No, and I dinnae wish te hear it, Captain ," Hayes snapped at him, and Archie chuckled.
"Och, dinnae fash, yer safe wi' me," Archie told him. "Even knowledgeable mariners must be wary of uncharted shoals."
"Ye did good, though, lad," Da told him, patting his son affectionately on the back.
"Aye, but the gales didnae make it easy. We're lucky only the mast fell and the hull is intact. When I felt the crash, I worried we had been damaged, but we must have hit a sandbar," Archie replied back to him. "A shame we lost Raines, Warren and Murphy. Those men didnae stand a chance."
"Aye, there's naught te be done wi' 'em. No shame in grievin' them," Da replied.
"I do not think many of us grieve them, Milord," Fergus chimed in. "At least, not for Warren or Raines."
"Aye, there were many times I wished Raines dead," Da replied. "Warren, too."
"Warren was such an angry wee man," Archie chimed in with a chuckle.
"Ah, never the matter. Yer Captain now, lad, so get us te Jamaica as quick as ye can," Da told him with pride.
"How are our rum and our rations?" Bailey chimed in, asking the three of them.
"Survived the storm fine, we've plenty fer the next few days, and now no more spoiled water. Manzetti found a freshwater river te restock," Archie told them.
"I'll be glad te be on land again," said Hayes a bit nervously. "No water, and plenty of lassies te be had."
"What lass would lie wi' you ?" Archie teased him. "Yer like a bleedin' tatterdemalion, and ye positively reek of fartleberries!"
"Ye dinnae look or smell any better, lad," Da told him, and Archie scoffed.
"After I've had a good bath, I will," Archie told him. "Anywho, when the tide's back in, we'll be able te set sail."
"Aye, good. I'm eager te reunite wi' yer mother," Da replied, crossing his arms across his chest. "We'll make full sail?"
"Aye, tonight. The cooler air will make the tar harden properly," Archie told him.
"Wha's tha' then?" said Hayes all of a sudden, looking at the shore, and a few other men did as well. The shore was far, so they couldn't exactly see what it was, but there was a bright shining light that was sparkling on the shore.
"Da, ye have the spyglass?" Archie asked him right as Da opened it and put it to his eye, and then he gasped.
"Christ!" he shouted suddenly, thrusting the spyglass into Archie's hand, making a run for the bulkhead of the ship and leaping over it, surprising just about everyone on the ship.
"Da!" Archie called, running to the side to see his father swimming to shore, so Archie put the spyglass to his eye to see what the hell Da had seen to make him do something so daft. Through the spyglass, there was a red-haired woman holding an object that was causing the sparkling light - it was Mama! "Mama!" he called. "Baxley, get the rowboat! It's my mother!" Baxley did as he was told, and Archie hopped in as it was being lowered to be rowed to shore behind Da.
CATRÌONA POV
For a moment, I thought that I was too late, that they couldn't see me, but then I saw something fall from the side of the ship, and shortly after, I could see the ship's rowboat on the water heading for shore. I smiled with joy and let out a cheer, running down the hill to greet the boat at the shore. I tripped and tumbled down the sandy hill, and as I pulled myself up to stand, I could see that there was something - no, some one - in the water swimming towards the shore. When they reached shallower waters, they stood up, and I realised that it was Jamie.
"Jamie!" I called as he picked up his feet and ran as fast as the water would allow him. "Jamie!"
"Catrìona!" he called, running towards me at full strength.
"Jamie!" I called again, reaching the water just as he reached the sand, and with our arms outstretched, we collided into each other and embraced each other tightly, Jamie's arms wrapped tightly around me and his hand losing itself in my hair.
"Thank Christ!" he exclaimed, and I couldn't help but laugh as I felt tears of joy rolling down my cheeks. He pulled back from our embrace to firmly press his lips against mine, then grasped my face and rested his forehead against mine. "I thought I lost ye again. I'm never lettin' ye out of my sight again!"
"I'm perfectly all right wi' that," I said with joy, kissing him again. "God, I love ye."
"I love ye, too," he told me, kissing me a third time, and then he pulled back to look at me, his face turning pale. "Christ, a nighean , what happened te ye?"
"Huh?" I asked, glancing down at my arm, realising how badly injured it was. "Blessed Bride!" I grabbed the remnants of the sling and used it as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding.
"Mama!" I heard my son's voice call, and I looked up to see the rowboat being brought up onto the sand and Archie running towards me.
"Archie!" I exclaimed, finding myself being enveloped in his arms as he embraced me tightly. "Careful, lamb! The bairn!" I exclaimed when he lifted me off of my feet.
"God, Mama, what happened? Yer hurt!" Archie exclaimed, taking in my rather rugged appearance.
"Och, just a wee scratch," I said with a light scoff. "I actually dislocated it in the storm tryin' te hold onto the mangroves. This is nothin'."
"Baxley! We'll need te row back as quickly as possible!" Archie called to Baxley in the boat.
"But I've just rowed all the way here, Captain!" Baxley cried back.
"Captain? You?" I asked him. "What happened te Raines?"
"Died in the storm," Archie told her. "It was awful, actually. He got crushed by the mast." On the way back to the ship, I learned that Mr. Warren and another man called Murphy had all died, but Raines and Murphy were the ones buried on the shore - apparently, Mr. Warren had fallen overboard and likely drowned in the storm. I told them all about my adventures on the Porpoise , explained that Caoimhe was still there and would meet us in Jamaica - how, though, I didn't know, considering Captain Leonard would be looking for us. Perhaps I'd have to send Fergus out to look for her.
"Ye jumped from the ship?" Jamie asked with widened eyes.
"I saw ye do the verra same," I said back to him.
"Aye, well, I was verra close te land. I imagine ye werenae so," he replied. When we were hoisted back onto the ship, Jamie didn't let me use my injured arm at all and helped me onto the ship, where I was immediately ambushed by Fergus.
"Milady! Christ has returned you to us again!" he exclaimed happily, and then he pulled back from our embrace to look at me. "Has Milord told you? He has given Marsali and me his blessing! He says we can marry in Jamaica!"
"Oh, tha's wonderful, lamb! I'm so happy fer ye!" I exclaimed with joy, then felt Jamie's hand on my back.
"Ye can tell her more later, lad. She needs this arm tended te," he said to Fergus, leading me away. "Willoughby! Meet us in the infirmary."
"Yes, Tsei-mi," said Yi Tien Cho, disappearing into the hold.
"I thought he preferred te be called by his true name," I said, but Jamie only shrugged.
"Willoughby's proven verra good wi' stitches. A lot of us were injured in the storm," Jamie explained to me as we followed him. "However did ye manage te survive such horrid conditions?"
"I got verra lucky. There's a priest called Father Fogden on the isle, and he was only too happy te take me in," I told him. "He was a… verra strange man. He wasnae thrilled ye lot killed his sheep. Arabella, her name was." Jamie chuckled softly. "He also talked te a coconut that he called 'Coco', and lived wi' his mother-in-law. But… we did have somethin' in common. The two of us longed fer our lost loves. His died years ago, while I had been taken from ye. He had sympathy fer me."
"I'm grateful he took ye in, strange as he may be," Jamie told me, following me into the infirmary, where Yi Tien Cho would stitch me up. Through every grimace as the needle passed through my skin, Jamie held my hand in one of his and had his other arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. "We'll need te get this arm into a sling, as well."
"It'll be fine," I told him. "It was injured several days ago. It'll have mostly healed."
"I imagine it still hurts?" Jamie asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Then it's a good thing I'm back wi' my herbs," I told him as Yi Tien Cho finished. "Thank ye kindly, Yi Tien Cho. Ye've done a fine job," I said, observing his work.
"I thank you, Honourable Wife," he said, bowing to me.
"Thank ye, Willoughby, ye can go now," Jamie told him, dismissing the man, and then he left us alone.
"There's a more pressin' matter," I told him before he could speak again. "I jumped from the ship because I needed te get te Jamaica before the Porpoise . I doubt we've beaten it by now, though. There's a warrant out fer yer arrest."
"A warrant?" he asked me, and I nodded.
"Aye. Remember Ian talked of a man wi' one blind eye who was responsible fer burnin' down the printshop? He said he came across yer seditious pamphlets and reported ye te Sir Percival. Not only tha', but his men found the body in a cask of crème de menthe," I said, and he let out a heavy huff.
"Christ," he replied. "Must no' have been a Scotsman."
"Aye, I said the same," I told him.
"We should have cut that body up, left nothin' te find," he replied irritably, and I reached up my free hand to touch his face.
"Jamie… Captain Leonard willnae let this rest. He's an ambitious bastard, if I've ever seen one. He willnae stop lookin' fer ye," I said, and he gave me a soft smile and took my hand in his.
"Leonard cannae arrest a man he cannae find," he told me, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss it. "Ye ken I was a wanted man when we first met."
"I ken. Doesnae mean I have te like it," I said to him.
"Did ye happen te learn anythin' relatin' te the Bruja ?" Jamie asked me, and I sighed softly.
"No, I thought I had when I found a Portuguese flag on the ship but it was a different one," I told him, glancing up at him. "How soon can we leave fer Jamaica?"
"Nightfall, I'm afraid. We need te wait fer the tar tha's holdin' the mast together te harden before we can leave," Jamie told me, and an idea suddenly popped into my head.
"So we've a few hours yet," I said, glancing up at him, and he raised an eyebrow curiously at me.
"Wha's on yer mind, Eileanach ?" he asked me. "Ye… should be mindful of yer arm." I shoved him lightly, clicking my tongue.
"Sex isnae always on my mind, ye gabbot! Though perhaps later," I said to him. "No, actually what I was thinkin' was we have te time te celebrate a rather joyous occasion, and on that isle is a man te help us celebrate it." He was confused now, and I lightly huffed. "A weddin', ye fool. Father Fogden is a priest. He can officiate it."
"But is he a Catholic priest?" Jamie asked me curiously.
"Does it matter? Marsali and Fergus are weddin' on an isle in the Indies by a priest who's also a sheep farmer and talks te coconuts," I told him, and Jamie chuckled lightly.
"All right, all right," he said. "So long as it can be done properly in the eyes of God."
"It will be," I told him with a smile. "Would ye mind helpin' me cut my hair first? I think it's time te finally rid myself of this brown entirely."
The ship had sailed a little closer to land for the occasion and the men went to shore. While Jamie took Yi Tien Cho to apologise to Father Fogden for killing Arabella and ask him to officiate Marsali's wedding, I helped Marsali with her dress and her hair on the sand. "In the isles, we have a bonny tradition where we weave flowers into braids," I told her, sitting in the sand with her in front of me as I braided beautiful white moonflowers into her hair. Marsali didn't answer me as I pinned her hair. "Nervous, then?"
"Nervous? Why would I be?" she asked me with a scoff in her tone.
"It's no' uncommon te be nervous on yer weddin' day. I was nervous on mine," I told her. "Jamie's uncle found out I was the granddaughter of the Laird of Cìosamul and arranged our marriage. I didnae ken at the time that I would fall so deeply in love wi' him, nor him me. I wasnae as young as ye are now, and I'd already been through hell and back a few times over, but there was still so much I didnae ken then." For a long moment, Marsali was quiet before she spoke again.
"There is… one thing… I dinnae ken," she replied a bit meekly, turning her head to look at me. "When Fergus and I lie together… how do I not have a bairn?"
"Dinnae want children right away?" I asked her, smiling softly. "Ye want te enjoy yer marriage wi' Fergus on yer own first. I wanted te do the same, but life had other plans fer me, but those plans gave me a verra bonny son." She nodded subtly, glancing away from me.
"Fergus says he kens what te do," she replied. "He says I'll like it fine, once we're past the first time. I… I'm just… no' so sure tha's true. Does it… Does it hurt bad? The firs' time?" I sighed softly, leaning back in the sand as she turned to face me.
"My first time… wasnae wi' Jamie," I confessed to her. "I was… raped… when I was yer age, by… more than one man." She lightly gasped, covering her mouth. "I dinnae recall much of it, but I do ken that I was verra sore after. But from what I'm told, it… can hurt a wee bit."
"Tha's horrible," she said to me. "How could ye lie wi' a man now?"
"When it's a man ye love, ye learn te overcome those fears," I told her with a soft smile. "Aye, I was nervous wi' Jamie, but then he held me in his arms, kissed me, whispered sweet things te me and… the fear just melted away."
"After Jamie marrit my mother, I saw how it was between them. When he drew her close, she'd shrink away. I dinnae ken the truth of it, but I've heard Archie say they never laid together," she told me. "But when I saw ye wi' Daddy on the ship… and today, bein' together again after weeks apart… I think ye enjoy bein' together."
"Oh, aye, we do," I told her. "I love lyin' wi' Jamie. I dinnae want te go into detail, but Jamie always makes me feel like I'm his entire world when we lay together." I couldn't help but chuckle as I recalled what he once said to me years ago. "Once, he even described it as feelin' like God himself."
"Oh, goodness," said Marsali, giggling a little. "I want te be happy wi' Fergus, like ye are wi' Daddy, without havin' te worry aboot a bairn. Fer now. Ye bein' a wisewoman, I… thought ye might be worth askin'."
"Well, there most certainly are a few ways," I told her. "When we get back on the ship, I'll explain how it's done, aye?" Her face lit up, and she nodded. "I will say though, it isnae the most comfortable method. I used it quite a bit when I wanted te put space between my bairns. It's part of the reason there's so many years between Brèagha and my younger daughter, Maevis."
"I thank ye greatly, Catrìona," she said to me somewhat fondly. "Ye ken… maybe yer no' the devil after all."
"I kent we'd get along someday," I told her, smiling at her, and then I softly sighed, gently touching her face. "Yer such a bonny bride… I imagine yer mother would be verra proud te see her beautiful daughter so. Come now, let's go and get ye marrit te the love of her life, aye?" She nodded, then stood and helped me up before we made our way to Father Fogden's home.
"I bid thee welcome," Father Fogden announced to all those in attendance of the wedding, which included myself, Jamie, Jamie's Ardsmuir men, the rest of the crew of the Artemis , and even Mamacita, who complimented Marsali on her hair (and was much kinder to me once she saw my husband). Marsali and Fergus stood together, while Archie stood beside them serving as a witness to their marriage (and Fergus's best man, but the term as I knew it didn't exactly exist in the eighteenth century) and Jamie and I stood together, Jamie's arm wrapped tightly around me and my free hand that wasn't tied up in a sling clasping his. "Dearly beloved, I bless you in the name of the Lord," Father Fogden went on, and then he looked at Archie. "Wilt thou have this woman…"
"I most certainly dinnae," Archie said, which seemed to surprise Father Fogden and earned a few chuckles from the crew. "She's my sister. I dinnae think it wise," Archie told him with a cheeky grin, and then he referred to Fergus. "This'll be the lad tha's te become my brother in law."
"Him? Are you sure?" Father Fogden asked with a slight scoff as he took in Fergus's appearance. "But he's missing a hand! Will the bride mind?"
"I most certainly will no' ," Marsali snapped at him.
"Oh, well, I don't suppose it is much of an impediment. Not as though he's lost his cock," said Father Fogden with a slightly nervous chuckle, and then he looked at Archie. "He hasn't, has he?" God, it was so obvious this man hadn't had much human contact in decades.
"If ye hurry up and get on wi' it, I could find out!" Marsali snapped again, which made the crew laugh and Fergus's face turn red.
"Marsali!" he exclaimed.
"Ye ken fine I've been waitin' te bed ye fer months," she told him, and Father Fogden's eyes widened.
"I am sorry, Father. She… she speaks her mind," Fergus said to Father Fogden. "It is one of the many things that I love about her."
"Your name, in its entirety, my dear? I cannot marry you without it," Father Fogden said next.
"Marsali Jane MacKimmie," Marsali replied.
"Ah, Marsali. Marsali, Marsali… What a lovely name, Marsali," said Father Fogden rather airily, which seemed to annoy Marsali even further.
"Fer the love of God, Father, are we te stand here haverin' aboot my name or do ye intend te marry me?" Marsali demanded of him, and I couldn't help but laugh, feeling Jamie's arm tighten around me affectionately.
"Wilt thou, Marsali Jane MacKimmie, have this man for thy wedded husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward, forsaking all others, until death do you part?" Father Fogden asked her.
"I will," Marsali said, happily grasping Fergus's hands tightly.
"And have you a name as well? And a cock?" Father Fogden asked Fergus, who chuckled. "I cannot marry you without either, it is not allowed."
"Yes, Father. It is Fergus," Fergus told him.
"In its entirety, if you will please," said Father Fogden, urging him to continue, and Fergus's smile faded. For as long as Fergus could remember, he had only had a first name - Fergus, or Claudel.
"It… it is just Fergus," Fergus replied somewhat uncomfortably, and I glanced up at Jamie, who's smile had faded.
"Surely, you have a surname, do you not? I cannot marry you one without one. Do you expect to become Mr. MacKimmie? It does not work like that," Father Fogden told him as Marsali glanced up at Fergus.
"It's Fraser," Jamie chimed in suddenly, and everyone turned their attention to him. "Fergus Claudel Fraser." At this, Fergus smiled, and Archie grasped Fergus's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.
"Welcome te Clan Fowlis-Fraser, brother," he told Fergus, who smiled at him before turning his attention back to Father Fogden.
"Fergus Claudel… Fraser," Fergus told him happily.
"Wonderful," said Father Fogden. "Wilt thou, Fergus Claudel Fraser, have this woman for thy wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, forsaking all others, until death do you part?"
"He didnae make Marsali vow te be obedient," I whispered to Jamie, who quietly chuckled and squeezed my hand.
"I will," said Fergus in answer to Father Fogden.
"The ring?" Father Fogden asked Archie, who produced the ring that Fergus had held onto for Marsali. It was a ring that he had carried with him all through his youth, even having with him in Paris. He claimed he picked it off of a woman in Paris, but it seemed to have more sentimental value to him than a ring picked off of some stranger in the streets of Paris. Fergus accepted the ring from Archie, then slipped it onto Marsali's finger. "And now, I unite you in wedlock in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen." Finally, Fergus bent his head to press his lips against those of his bride, and she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer to her as the crew clapped and cheered.
" Je t'aime, ma femme, " Fergus told her, and Marsali giggled.
"I love ye, too," she told him, kissing him again. Jamie and I smiled and looked at each other, remembering the day that we were married. While we were not yet aware of the love that bonded us, we knew that there was something rare and special between us that we carried with us to that very same day, now twenty-four years ago, almost to the day. We were married on the seventeenth of April, 1743, and now watched as one of the lads that we had adopted into our family and grown to love as our own son married the love of his life. I smiled at Jamie, and he lowered his head to meet my lips, kissing me slowly, passionately, silently reminding me of how much he loved me. When we broke our kiss, we shared another smile, then I laid my head on my husband's shoulder and watched Fergus and Marsali in their newly wedded bliss.
"May God bless your union," Father Fogden said to them, crossing them, and then he approached us, a kindly smile on his face. "And may God bless your union, as well."
"Thank ye, Father," Jamie said to him with a smile, watching as Father Fogden continued on his merry way.
