Chapter 31: Adjustment

Sissy hid herself in Claire's bosom, digging in as much as possible, yet still giving her lungs enough exercise to deafen everyone walking within at least fifty yards' distance. Claire had tried everything, shushing her, comforting her, ordering and pleading and even breastfeeding the child while walking, but nothing worked and if Claire was honest with herself, she would've had to admit to herself that she shouldn't have been surprised. The little girl was not used to open air marching, much less the biting Scottish wind and the unrelenting and merciless night time drizzle that was just as good as a shower at soaking everyone to the bone.

The fleeing prisoners were wary. While not thinking to question Jamie's decision, or reject his offer of passage to the Americas, bar for a couple of older men who were contemplating the possibility of being buried in Scottish soil before long and another couple soon to be released, Sissy's laments drew a few weary looks. If it wasn't for them travelling on noman's land at the back of beyond, the success of the escape would have turned well questionable with that racket.

Running at them, young Angus MacKenzie seemed rather startled when he appeared leaping back from where he was sent forward as a lookout, "Mac Dubh, Mac Dubh!" Small as he was and barely remembering a life before Ardsmuir, he panted as he tried to get Jamie's attention over the noise. He pointed, gasping like a fish, "Mac Dubh, redcoats, hind the next mound!"

"Redcoats?" Murdo stared at everyone confused, "did we no put them all tae slumber!"

Angus shook his head vehemently, though it had nothing to do with answering that question, "they are coming fae Morefield, too many tae see how many!"

"Scatter, all of ye, scatter," Jamie gave his orders, peering at the still wailing child. He did care not what the bairn's name was, Randall's spawn's. He just referred to her in his mind as 'lassie', though he could've probably remembered the name if he would've wanted to. He wasn't sure why Claire had to bring her, or herself for that matter. It wasn't like he felt inclined to forgive her, he just had to go along with her offer of freeing everyone for the sake of the men. "We will simply pose as a family travelling back home," he pulled close and put his arms round the brunette.

Claire turned towards him instead, "no. You hide too. It will be easier for me to pass as a landowner's wife if you aren't here. I would say we have our house on the Isle of Martin and our cart broke down back at Strathkanaird. That way, even if they offer to assist us to the rowboat, we can make them believe it's going to the island. Just leave Angus, he can pose as our servant," she suggested, herself eyeing the older children, Brianna and Denys, with worry. They have been explained the importance of the undertaking in helping the prisoners and hopefully they were too sleepy to interfere, but she was quite sure that neither of them was keen on leaving their papa behind, even if they didn't know it was to be for the rest of their lives. "Meet you at the Loch," she urged Jamie, relieved to see he was listening to her. Just in time too, as the clank and blatter of soldiers approaching got close and some of the redcoats appeared at the brink of the hill.

"Who goes there!" Called out the sentry, walking at least fifteen feet ahead of the others.

"The miller's wife from Eilean Mhàrtainn," Claire called the island on its Gaelic name, hoping to pass for a local. She could never properly sound Scottish enough of course, but maybe she could make them think she'd lived here for a while.

"Miller's wife?" A confident sounding redcoat edged out from behind the rest to approach her, "forgive me for thinking, but I was told the island is uninhabited. Would make sense, it is all cliffs that we have seen of it before the sun went down."

"There's a pier at the northwest side," Claire provided. It was true too, she had been there to tend to one of the fishermen who fell ill. "A few houses, cattle and sheep on our lands," she held.

"I wouldn't mind seeing that then," held the man, seemingly in an officer's uniform now that he was close enough to be able to discern, "it does amaze me these people," he gestured vaguely around, "the conditions they choose to live in. I mean why, when you could live civilized further South!" He complained, "and a well educated Englishwoman yourself," he regarded the fine standard of the family's clothing, "just why!"

"It has to be what the husband thinks best," Claire said half indignantly. She would've never agreed to such a deal herself, but she had to play the part.

The choice of words seemed to have at least temporarily appeased her interrogator as the tall man grunted in place of an agreement and poked his hat upwards a little with his index finger while he nodded, as a way of a formal greeting, "excuse the rudeness Madam, you never know who you meet in these parts and in what circumstances so one needs to make sure it is advisable to be at ease first, before introductions. I am Major Titus Ephraim Griffith of the 9th Regiment, in charge of the rebel hunting here on the West Coast and as such, it is my duty to know who goes where, my apologies."

"Claire Beauchamp," the seemingly mother of three nodded at him, reverting back to the only name she could think of as Fraser or Randall she could not be for the moment. "We should be on our way then," she put a hand on Brianna's shoulder to steer her round the soldiers, "I'd better get these children under cover," she reasoned, hoping for a way out. Cause of Major Griffith she has heard, and nothing good.

"Curious to bring them out at this hour, is it not," he blocked their path.

"Oh, I wouldn't have, but our waggon broke down and now we're rather late on foot. My husband will probably come looking for us if we don't hurry."

"You should stay overnight at Ardsmuir," the Major suggested, "it shouldn't be far I believe. We have half a dozen prisoners to deliver there, you should come along. There's a cart with provisions the children could sit on."

"We have already passed Ardsmuir and were fortunate enough to share the captain's dinner. He had presented us with a similar offer gallantly, but I had to decline for the sake of my other half you see," Claire tried, notwithstanding the ominous dark cloud that was settling on her inner self. From experience, convincing these English officers of things they did not want to accept was impossible.

"For your safety, I must insist," he nodded towards a linen covered vehicle.

"Major!" The call came from a distance and belonged to a man approaching on horseback from behind them. "Your Second Leftenant reached me with the news of your arrival," he dismounted and saluted his superior, "Jonathan Randall, Captain of Ardsmuir Prison, at your service." Claire found herself biting her lip in perturbation, with her head spinning as if she had been the one who administered powerful sedatives. How on earth was Jack standing, even if holding on to the horse and what was he trying to achieve by coming here? Was everything lost when the Major's men got to the fort?

"Ah, Randall, I had been looking forward to the aquintance," Griffith sounded pleased, proving that Black Jack's past reputation still held, "are you alright?" Observance being an asset to a man of his standing, he didn't fail to notice Jack's unsteady legs.

"You have probably heard of my being away from service for quite some time. Perhaps my assumption that I can return was rushed," Jack held as an explanation for his indisposition.

"Even so," the superior officer argued, "I wouldn't have left a lady like Mrs. Beauchamp out in the face of the dangers of the night."

Jack glanced in her direction. He only held her eyes for the fraction of a second and she wasn't sure what his momentary, soft, sad and disappointed gaze meant for the situation exactly, not till he spoke, "from my relatively short experience of talking to people in the area and meeting her a couple of times, I can already say that Mrs. Beauchamp can well take care of herself," he emphasized with surety in his voice and something else that Claire couldn't quite place. It was anger she had expected at the very least, this was more like the make-believe indifference of a stone wall one put up in defence, filtering through beyond that pretence he intended to decieve Griffith with. It froze her in place, distanced her from her surroundings into a foggy haze where she stood thunderstuck with the realisation that he was truly covering for her, for them, and with a price that was probably his head.

"Very well then," Griffith shrugged, clearly having needed his suspicions about her late hour trek to be put to rest, "you may be on your way Mrs Beauchamp. If there's a place to dock on the island, we shall visit," he forewarned. He would let her away now, but that didn't mean that later he wouldn't assure himself that all was as it should be.

"Thank you once again for dinner, Captain Randall," she got herself together just in time, a shaking starting in her insides and threatening to take over her limbs. It was some sort of a miracle in itself that the little ones didn't give anything away and she had to take them out of sight as quickly as was possible. Jack didn't acknowldge her call, perhaps for the very same reason, not daring to engage with the children. And as an afterthought it also occurred to her that it should have been impossible for Jack to speak without slurring at the very least.

"We would welcome you showing the way to the fortress," the Major gestured for his own horse to be brought forward while Jack mounted his. He also did not pay any more attention to the travelling woman and his men followed behind them in a haste for the lack of many more horses.

Claire's legs felt like lead as she got out the way of the soldiers marching past. She knew what she had to do, take the children far, but it felt a lot less right than it had been an hour ago. The mother was startled when Jamie appeared in front of her and stepped to her side to aid her in her trek and support her, physically and mentally. "What was that with Randall?" He leaned close conspirationally, "I could not hear the words being said."

"What do you think it was!" Claire stopped walking and faced him, only her load in the shape of a baby in her arms stopping her from lashing out and slapping at his chest in her frustration and disappointment in herself. "Jamie," she wailed desperately, "he came out here because he found out Griffith was on his way, close by and he is going to be court marshalled and hanged for it. There is no covering up that he was aiding us now."

Jamie swallowed and nodded, taking hold of her upper arms as he slowly, gradually took in the information, clear that a whole world view inside him was having to change to allow it. "No, he willnae be," the Scot said firmly. "Not if I can help it. Ye know where the rowboats are waiting, take everyone tae the ship. I will get him out Claire, I promise," he nodded once again, encouraginly this time.

Claire grabbed for him too as he turned to make true on his promise. She was already losing Jack, it was hard to accept she could be losing them both. "I will not kiss you goodbye," she pleaded with fate itself, only holding his hand in hers for a moment before they inevitably had to spring into action.

Tbc