Chapter 7

"Angus of Brigadoon"

It had been nearly two days since Vanessa was rescued and she was fortunately walking around the HMS Victory, offering to help in any way possible to take her mind off of her wedding being interrupted. Through my good fortune, Nelson was kind enough to have her help out in the ship's kitchen. Not exactly the best choice for someone who had a position of responsibility, but it was the best we could do.

"Lassie," said the cook in a thick Scottish accent. "How are those potatoes coming along?"

"Oh, fine, Angus," Vanessa answered. "Anything to take my mind off of what happened."

"Ack, I can feel yer pain, dearie," he sighed. "Those Frenchies are barbarians. Why I vowed to never set foot in France ever as long as he's in power."

Now, Angus the cook was often described as a wise old owl. He came from the highlands of Scotland and was someone who held a great deal of respect for the British crown.

"Angus," Vanessa said. "I've heard rumors that…you remember having a wedding interrupted yourself, didn't you?"

This made Angus stop what he was doing.

"How did you know that, Lassie?"

"I overheard two sailors saying that someone interrupted a wedding you were part of, yes?"

"Ach, it's true, Lassie," he said as he came over to the table Vanessa was sitting at. "I came from a village that was blessed with a miracle that outsiders would never destroy it by any means necessary."

"What was the village?"

"Brigadoon."

"Brigadoon?"

"Way up in the highlands, lassie. Ach, we were blessed to have this miracle. But the condition was that if anyone were to leave the village, Brigadoon would vanish forever."

The more she heard the old Scotsman, the more Vanessa began to wonder if she and her lover would ever reunite, then this village called Brigadoon would be a place to call home.

"But, you left the village, didn't you?"

"Aye, but I swore an oath to return or else the village would disappear when I left," said Angus, taking an apple and eating it. "I did and the village still remains, although hidden in the mist, I say."

"Hidden in the mist, you say?" Vanessa asked, seemingly developing a sense of optimism. "What is it like, living in the village?"

"Very peaceful, I will say. Although we do keep ourselves busy and occupied. Every day, we all gather in the town square and hold a market. The square is called Maccochany Square."

She then noticed Angus looking up at the ceiling of the kitchen.

"But Harry Beaton," he sighed. "He was a jealous one, he was."

"Who is Harry Beaton?"

"A jealous lover, longing to marry the girl whom he was in love with. Why during the wedding dance, he tried to leave the village and make everything disappear forever."

"Did he leave?"

"Nay, he didn't, lass. We found him dead by a tree. Some say he was shot and some say he fell out of it and hit his head."

"Then, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Vanessa asked. "That he was stopped?"

"Yes, but he wasted his whole life over something that he will never achieve," sighed Angus. "In a way, Napoleon reminds me of young Harry, vowing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants…even if he takes others with him."

Suddenly, a thought came through Vanessa. She began to realize that Angus was just like her…being part of a wedding that was interrupted.

"But I don't understand why we would be attacked the way we did," Vanessa sighed, rising to her feet. "We were on a wedding ship, it doesn't make sense. We weren't a warship or anything, just a wedding ship."

"People like Napoleon won't care about anything except themselves," Angus said. "The French need soldiers and anything else has no significance to them. I joined the navy to protect my village from these barbarians."

He then walked over back to the kitchen and pulled out a long rifle with a bayonet attached to it.

"Anyone who threatens my homeland shall feel the point of this bayonet, lassie," he said, showing me the rifle. "If I die, I die for Brigadoon."

Although Vanessa seemingly refused to believe it, Angus made it clear that he was going to fight by any means necessary.

…

Back on deck, Nelson and Eric were rowing their way back from one of the ships, the HMS Pigot, and it appeared that there was something urgent that needed to be discussed.

"Eric, what's going on?" I asked as Anna and I were waiting.

"We think that there may be a spy on one of the ships," he answered. "A French spy."

"Where is he?" Anna asked, firmly.

"In the brig," sighed Nelson. "But we caught him trying to send messages in some of the rum bottles."

And Nelson pulled a bottle containing a parchment inside, handing it over to Anna.

"I think we may need to interrogate him some more," Eric said. "If he could be a spy, then who knows what will happen?"

Sure enough, down below in the deck of the HMS Pigot, the French spy was clad in irons and wondering just what punishment awaited him. If there was one French spy, one could only wonder if there were more within the fleet.

…

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