Opportunities: Jamie Leith in Darién

By Ian Hall

In July 1698, five ships sailed from Scotland on a secret mission; a final hail-Mary attempt to save both their economy and their country.
Their goal? To colonize Panama, set up a new trade route overland into the Pacific, and change the history of the world forever.
Street-smart teenager, Jamie Leith, inadvertently stows away, becoming shackled to the adventure.
This is his story, and much more.

This is a story that should have been told centuries ago.It should have been trumpeted from the battlements of Edinburgh Castle, and proudly broadcast to the world. But it was not. Perhaps due to the nature of its end, the Scottish Darien story has languished at the periphery of history, covered in a nation's disgrace, and wrapped in the blankets of shame, purposely hidden.

The Darien Scheme was a world-changing event that few people today even know existed. The Scots raised half the actual capital in Scotland for the scheme, confident that they would dominate world trade. It was as large a leap of faith as to set a colony on Mars today.

I am not spoiling the ending when I tell you that the Darien venture did not turn out as the Scots had envisaged. The loss of such an amount of Scots revenue forced the 'union of the crowns', and Scotland was swallowed by its neighbor, England. Directly because of the Darien Scheme, Great Britain was born. A country that would assert itself across the globe until it had grown into the biggest Empire in the world.

The Darien Scheme actually happened, and most of the events portrayed in my book are researched historical fact. Ship names and their sailings, captains and council members, events, battles, and major storyline are as accurate as I could manage.

Opportunities, however, is a work of fiction, and although I have told the Darien story as close to history as I could, it should be read as a work of fiction.

Essentially, my book is a compromise; the events and characters portrayed herein are either researched or imaginary and I will leave it to you to work out which.

I would rather, of course, have you caught up in my story, and forget everything else.

The book is seen through Jamie's eyes, and I hope as you read, you will find in him, the spirit of my nation; the guile, the grit and determination, the pride and the strength of character that I feel in myself today.

I am Scottish and proud of it.

Ian Hall

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ian Hall
• Release date: Nov 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310423673

Ian Hall

Ian Hall is a former Commander Officer of No. 31 Squadron (1992-4), as well as being the editor and writer of the Squadron Association's three-times-a-year 32-page newsletter. He is the author of Upwards, an aviation-themed novel currently available as a Kindle download. This is his first full-length historical study, having previously penned a 80-page history of No 31 Squadron's early Tornado years.

Book preview

Leith

July 13th 1698

Leith, Edinburgh, Scotland

On the rare occasions when his mother laid eyes on him, she called him James, and Ross had been his long-gone father’s surname, but he did not consider the family name to be his. At sixteen, he had too many beatings under his belt to consider himself the son of such a man, and if he ever met his father again, he would have found some way to repay the debt. He commonly answered to Jas, Jim or Jimmy, but if a stranger had asked him, he would have given his name as Jamie.

He raised the attic skylight carefully, glancing out into the bright Leith sunshine. Rainwater dripped from its pitch blackened edges as he looked left, then right, making sure the coast was clear. In a fluid movement, he slipped up onto the slate roof, the window closed; all signs of his trespass gone. He felt it imperative to keep his hideout secret; most of his meager possessions were stored in the unused attic space.

With an ease born of experience, he skipped barefoot down the wet, gray slate tiles to the stone roof edge. The screaming seagulls nearby spread their wings and barked angrily at the invasion of their domain, but Jamie paid them no heed. After he passed they returned to their herald of the sunshine, a cacophonous but familiar sound to a boy at ease on the rooftops. He tucked his dirty shirt into his belt, and buckled it one hole tighter.

The first jump proved easy, a mere ten feet, but he still grinned as he leapt, knowing that three stories up, no one else would have even considered it. The gulf made his stash that much safer. His feet landed secure on the next wet roof, his calloused soles adjusting to the new stone. At the edge, he looked at the cobbled street, far below. The rain had just stopped, and the street appeared deserted. A short climb, another, lesser jump, and he stood on the single storey roof of the kitchen of the Cross Keys Tavern, just one of many starting points to Jamie’s rooftop adventures.

The wet narrow cobbled streets were quiet; the pessimists lingered inside, expecting more rain. The sandstone walls on either side seemed to lean inwards, their irregular gray and tan shapes sometimes peeping out from behind cracked plaster. A door opened to his left and an old woman peered out, holding her shawl tight round her chest.

Brrr, Jamie shivered, always on the outlook for sympathy. Mornin’ Missus Dewar!

Ah’ mind it warm in July, she groused, and backed inside again.

Chilly, Jamie answered to the closing door. Downright bloody chilly!

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets and sauntered down the narrow, winding street. The seagulls heralded the dawn of a new morning, and his pockets contained nothing but a dirty handkerchief and a few rounded pebbles. He hoped that the day would bring him coin or food, or preferably both; but his primary mission was to survive the day, nothing more.

A young boy crossed the street in front of him. Aye, Jamie.

Henry. Jamie nodded as the boy headed into the close opposite.

Nothin’ doin’ huh?

Early days, Henry. Early days.

Aye,

The pecking order of the street had proved easy for Jamie to learn; if a boy found himself clever, or lucky, he survived. The ships in the harbour were always looking for strays to be pressed as cabin boys, never to be seen again. Gangs were common, although Jamie had never joined one, content to look after himself. The factories up in Edinburgh also swept the Leith streets periodically, and Jamie had fled from such a roundup just this year.

He had many advantages over the other street urchins; although he’d reached sixteen, and faster than most, he looked a good year younger, and in certain situations it gave him an edge. Like the others, he wore his dirty clothes and uncombed hair as a uniform. The ingrained dirt on his face, hands and callused bare feet were his badges of rank. From below the greasy locks of tousled brown hair shone two ice-cold blue eyes, intelligent, always moving, looking for opportunity at every second. His hands, stuck deep in his trouser pockets, were part of his defense; if his hands blocked incursion, no one else could reach the contents. And he hoped to add to that very soon.

As Jamie walked, he noticed a piece of dark green sycamore leaf, slowly floating and spinning in the cobbled gutter. He slowed to its pace and watched it catch on a piece of wood, then turn and float away again.

He jingled his pebbles, keeping his vigil on the leaf, in his mind not a boy, but Captain of the King’s flagship; his cannon ready to fire a warning shot across the bow of the runaway sloop.

In one fluid movement, he crouched and threw one of the pebbles. It splashed near the leaf, sending it spinning again, and then bounced noisily down the street, narrowly missing a trader, setting out his stall with fruit and vegetables.

Hey! Watch where you’re throwing they damn stanes!

Splishhh! Jamie feigned total emergence in his fantasy as he walked. In his mind, the slow, towering cascade of water near the bow of the sloop made the ship list heavily, spinning in mockery of the leaf. As he advanced on the stricken sloop, the boy leaned his body to one side, off balance, temporarily onboard the stricken vessel.

Perfect lads! Ready the broadside! Jamie muttered, back on the deck of the flagship, his accent in mimicry of the story-teller in the harbour. Aye aye, Cap’n! he added in a different accent.

Stupidly, the sycamore leaf did not heed the warning shot, but strove for freedom.

Open fire lads! Full broadside, let ’em have it!

After two more throws, the leaf showed much the worse for wear, having been struck amidships both times. One stone smacked the fruit stall, incensing the trader further. He stood, hands on hips waiting for Jamie to pass. Concentrating on his task, Jamie and his flagship followed the stricken vessel.

Although the street lay broad enough for him to give the trader and his stall a wide berth, as he passed, Jamie sidled closer. He avoided eye contact, and then instinctively ducked as the old man’s hand whipped through the air where his head had been. Jamie’s fingers were lightning fast, grabbing from the stall as he dodged the blow. He smiled as he sped away down the street.

Ya wee swine! the peddler shouted, brandishing his fist in the air.

Jamie’s smile widened at the insult, then dipped to pick up one of his stones from the cobbled street.

You never know when you’ll need a good stone, Jamie muttered, as he slipped the pebble back into his pocket. It could save your life.

With a backward glance, ensuring the trader hadn’t started off in pursuit; he ducked into the next doorway and flattened his back against the dull paneled door. The front of his shirt now bulged with two crab apples. They were green and mottled, not the best for eating, but a fine beginning to his morning’s takings. He smiled as he watched the fragments of his leaf pass the doorway.

Opportunities are everywhere. He grinned back up the street. You just have tae look for ’em.

With one last furtive stare up and down, he stepped out of the doorway, intent on the leaf again. With his next stone, the leaf broke in two, the halves separating slowly.

He walked over to the crippled vessel, halted, and saluted the sinking ship; another success for a brave captain.

Jamie sighed, the adventure gone, his mind back on the street. Because of the rain, the market would be small, and late, thus he had some time to kill.

Sticking his hands in his pockets again, he continued, picking up his stones as he passed. Almost automatically, he headed for the harbour, although he would have preferred company.

With the bright, warm sunlight lifting his mood further, he grinned, embracing his independence. A movement ahead caught his attention, and he stopped for a second. Ahead, at the doorway of the Beggar’s Inn, a scuffle poured into the street. Two sailors were roughing up a gentleman.

Stupid, eh? one sailor said, punctuating his words with punches and slaps to the man’s head. The victim eventually either had the sense to fall or got beaten to the ground. Jamie could not decide.

See wha’s stupid noo! the second sailor kicked at the legs of the defenseless man. Fuckin’ tosser!

With a flourish, he tossed the victim’s hat down the street, then, dusting their hands, the sailors returned to the bar to be met with raucous cheers from inside.

The man slowly dusted himself off and got unsteadily to his feet.

Jamie quickly retrieved the hat. Here you go, sir. He offered it to the man.

Thank you, the man croaked, brushing dirt from the rim. He fished in his pocket and pressed a farthing into Jamie’s hand. I need directions up to the town.

Jamie smelt rum on his breath. This way, sir, He pulled on the man’s sleeve and led him around the corner. At the end of the street, the road ahead opened out to a wide, grassy concourse. One wagon and two coaches already were parked on the street. Edinburgh’s this way, sir. You’ll get a lift from a coach in a wee bit; they always stop if you’ve a penny handy. He glanced behind. You’ll be safer here too.

He skipped off with the man’s gratitude ringing behind him. After he’d rounded the corner, Jamie rubbed the farthing together with a penny he had filched from the man’s pocket. He grinned as he resumed his walk to the harbour. Congratulating himself, his piercing blue eyes gleamed with mischievous pride.

Suddenly he found his path blocked by two youths. Jamie cursed inwardly; he had been so entrenched in his gloating he had not seen their approach. Both were bigger than Jamie’s smallish frame, and Jamie knew both to be at least two years older.

Hello, Jamie, they chorused.

Billy. Matt. Jamie’s shoulders slumped. He looked from one to the other; Billy Dodds and Matt Bourhill were well known street bullies, and Jamie had come out on the wrong side of a beating many times.

Good day so far? Billy asked.

Nothin’, Jamie palmed the coins and turned his pockets out. The stones clattered to the cobbles and he waved his handkerchief to indicate its innocence.

We seen ya fleece him. Matt took a step forward. What’d you get?

Nothin’, I swear! Jamie pleaded. His pockets were empty. He probably spent a’ his money in the pub.

You’re a lyin’ shite, Billy sneered, and began to close the distance.

Jamie darted to one side, and in a few strides disappeared down a dark close. The alley walls on either side amplified his footfalls, echoing around him, and the sound of pursuit drove him faster. A duck left, then right past some washing and Jamie rushed headlong out on the next street, running past the church. A glance backwards told him that only Billy chased him, and he knew Matt would probably try to head him off. Jamie turned by the corner of the church, then raced to the churchyard. He turned sharply and began to climb the graveyard railings. He had one leg over the spikes when Billy crashed into him.

Got you! he cried triumphantly, gripping Jamie’s foot and trouser leg.

Despite the added weight, Jamie shifted his frame over the jagged points and kicked with his trailing leg, hitting Billy directly on the nose. As the older boy threw his hands to his face, whining, Jamie found himself free, falling in a heap onto the wet grass on the graveyard side.

Ya wee bastard! Billy wiped his nose, and then looked incredulously at the fresh blood on his fingers. You’ll die for this!

No’ this day! Jamie sneered through the black bars, then sensing flight as the best policy, ran off, weaving through the gravestones, leaving a red-faced Billy Dodds behind.

With his senses tuned for pursuit, he quickly made his way through alleyways, gardens, streets and paths. Suddenly, on the next street, Matt Bourhill stood just yards away, looking right at him.

Jamie dashed back down the alley, and after rounding the corner, took two steps on a barrel pile and pulled himself quickly up on the flat roof beyond. He lay still, as Matt ran past in the alley. Slowly he began to crawl towards the next climb. Below in the alley, Matt already cursed, trying to work out where Jamie had gone, his pursuit stymied.

Argh! Ya wee shite! he cried, and after a moment’s pause, ran off down the close.

Jamie caught his breath and waited for a while. After he deemed it safe, he jumped three more roofs, and let himself down into a small garden. Within minutes, he stood streets away from Matt, making his way again towards the harbour.

Leith was a maze of cobbled streets, alleys, vennels, and closes, and Jamie knew them all; one of the ways he held himself different from the rest of the street boys. At sixteen, he knew every street vendor, merchant and landlord, and knew a smattering of French, some Dutch, and had a talent for dialects. He also had the kind of face that immediately became forgotten; he blended into the background and never stood out in a crowd. It made for a very interesting combination.

Jamie! Hearing a breathless shout from behind, he whipped round, immediately on his guard.

Hey MacKay! he exclaimed, glad to see Gordon running at full pelt down the street towards him.

Gordon came to a slippery halt on the wet, shiny cobbles, his arms flung wide for balance. Where you off to? he asked.

Gordon stood almost six inches taller and usually got mistaken as Jamie’s older brother. Jamie did not mind a bit; it helped him better blend into the background.

Well, MacKay, I thought about the harbour. He smiled. Do you fancy it?

Aye, that’d be fine, Gordon hissed between breaths.

They headed down Coburg Street toward the docks, and although Jamie felt comfortable on his own it was safer to visit the docks with a companion. Stories of press-gangs and missing acquaintances attested to the dangers awaiting street lads who ventured dockside.

Jamie slid his hand inside his shirt. Apple?

Without waiting for a reply, he tossed one to a smiling Gordon and rubbed the other on his grimy shirt. The pair exchanged knowing glances as they took crunching bites from the hard, unripe fruit.

Ah see you’ve been busy a’ready.

Aye,

It’s a bit on the tough side. Gordon laughed.

Better one than none! Jamie punched his friend’s shoulder playfully.

In contrast to the quiet streets of the town, the dock looked even more crowded than usual. Dockers and ship’s crew milled around on the quayside like partners in some unorganized dance. The difference today proved to be the crowd of passengers, mostly men, who were standing in orderly queues, waiting to be boarded. In comparison to the dock officials, the passengers were a pathetic sight, soaked to the skin from the recent rain. The men who had donned hats for the heavy shower, had removed them, but the women’s bonnets drooped dejectedly. Their baggage lay waterlogged in puddles at their feet.

Looks like the Expedition ships are finally getting ready tae sail. Jamie ambled closer.

It’s about time. Gordon nibbled at the hard apple core. They’ve been loading the ships for weeks!

Activity increased as they neared the quayside; harbour officials strutted and postured. Orders from both the docks and aboard ship were barked across the morning.

They’ll leave on tonight’s tide, maybe tomorrow’s. Jamie threw his apple core high into the air, landing in the brown chocolate suspension that was Leith harbour.

Twice a day the tide flushed away the stinking mess, but the Water of Leith, while rising clear and clean in the Pentland hills, also passed through Edinburgh. The capital’s sewer then ran down to Leith.

Almost like an adventure, Gordon said. Not knowing where they’re going.

Best kept secret in town. Jamie’s attention wavered, caught by the shiny new nameplate on the stern of the ship berthed at the quay. Look they’ve re-named it. It’s the Cal…Caldon…

Gordon waited patiently as Jamie sounded it out.

Caledonia! he enthused. I think. Makes sense.

Gordon nodded. Very ‘Scottish’.

A harbour employee, walking briskly in their direction, swerved to pass them. Gordon side-stepped and pulled gently on his jacket sleeve. S’cuse me, sir, he said in his best urchin voice. Harbourmaster…sir…

What is it? the man snapped, checking his pockets.

Just a question, sir, Gordon pointed at the new shiny brass plate. We can’t read sir, what’s the vessel’s new name, sir?

Oh. They re-named all three of them. They’re now called the Caledonia, Saint Andrew and the Unicorn. That’s the Caledonia there. He pointed to the nearest as he marched off.

Thank you, harbourmaster sir, Gordon called after the quickly retreating figure.

The pair wove their way through the crowd on the packed quayside until they reached a quieter part.

Jamie nudged Gordon playfully in the ribs. Harbourmaster? he hissed. You’re such a blether! You ken damn fine he was just a clerk or somethin’.

Learning frae you, Gordon smiled. It’s amazing what flattery’ll get you.

They continued along the quay.

Well come on, tell me, Jamie asked Did ye filch from yer ‘Harbourmaster’?

Nope. Didn’t even try.

Why not?

He would have remembered our faces. He had a damn good look at us afore he spoke, an’ he checked his pockets. He was suspicious frae the start.

Jamie nodded in agreement. Did ye take frae the passengers?

They poor bastards have enough to worry aboot, Gordon stopped in his tracks, making a mocking grin. Jamie! I swear we’re getting soft!

Jamie never missed a step, and waved Gordon to catch him up.

No’ soft Gordon. More like choosy. Nae point in taking stuff frae them that needs it bad. There’s plenty up toon who can keep me going without bothering these folks.

Most of them had their hands in their pockets anyway.

They laughed.

Besides, Jamie began, there’s too many officials and sailors here to run away from. I’m no’ sure that even I could get away if a shout went up!"

Jamie stopped abruptly, pointing out into the harbour, his eyes opening wider. What’s that?

Gordon followed his friend’s direction, left in no doubt as to what had drawn Jamie’s attention. They had been so wrapped up in their own conversation they had missed the new arrival.

Anchored in the center of the small harbour lay a sleek man-o-war, its yellow and blue paintwork shining brightly in the morning sunlight. Obviously very new, the painted rails and cannon ports looked pristine with no signs of weathering. The sun glinted off the polished brass and gold fittings all over the ship. Along with the multi-colored harbour flags and pennants, limp Swedish flags flew both fore and aft. Jamie noted the anchor chain, still greased and free of rust.

That’s bonny! said Gordon, his eyes wide open.

That’s mair than ‘bonny’, that’s bee-oo-ti-full.

Come on! Gordon pulled at Jamie’s sleeve, dragging him along the jetty. Let’s get a closer look!

Jamie counted as he walked. Seventy-four cannons, I think. That’ll make her a frigate; a ship of the line!

She’s a real beaut! What nationality? Is she Swedish?

Aye, she’s Swedish—look at the uniforms on deck, and the flag.

They ran farther along the harbour to get a better look, the new ship being temporarily lost behind an old Dutch merchantman, until they came to a part of the quay which had been roped off. The thick golden barrier glistened as much as the gold epaulettes of the marines barring their way.

Stop! A soldier unshouldered his musket, and brandished the bayonet in their direction. His face had a cold look, and convinced Jamie of no hope of getting further.

Gordon was more determined. We only want to see the ship! he said, as he moved closer to the barrier.

No. Go away!

Come on Gordon, hissed Jamie, pulling his friend back the way they had come.

But…

Come on! Jamie insisted.

Reluctantly, he turned and allowed Jamie to pull him away. I only wanted to see her better.

I know. Listen, we can get to Mulligan’s roof, can’t we? Jamie cocked his head at the large timber warehouse that dominated the harbour. We could see from there!

An’ we’d be seen as well. They’d have someone up there in a flash to get us down. It’s open up there, nowhere to hide, an’ only one way up; we’d be trapped.

Jamie pulled Gordon closer to him. We don’t need to see it during the day. We could get on the roof tonight!

Jamie! It’ll be dark! Gordon exclaimed. We’ll no’ be able to see a thing!

Nonsense MacKay! That ship is here tae be seen. She’ll be lit up like daylight, we’ll see her no problem at a’! You wait an’ see.

Gordon’s face lit up for a second, and then his shoulders sank. We’ll never see her properly from there though. It’s too far away!

Jamie smiled again. No’ if we have a telescope,

And where in hell’s name are you going to get a telescope?

Much as he wanted to keep a straight face, Jamie could not help but grin.

I’ll find one, he said. Meet me on the corner o’ Mulligan’s nearest the dock gates tonight.

Fair enough. When?

Just after the lampman’s done his last rounds. Even wi’ the lamps lit, it should be dark enough for us to hide.

I take it that means you’re off on your own?

Gordon, mate, I’m hungry an’ it’s easier to feed one than two. Jamie grinned again. Plus I’ve got to see a man about a telescope!

~~~

One fact Jamie knew; few folks in Leith ever looked up.

Jamie felt certain no one saw him moving along the large stone ledges of the roofs as nimbly as a cat. Every now and then he stopped, watching for signs of anyone following.

A wee walk along the Broon place, he whispered, thinking of the family in the house beneath him.

Turn left! He laughed, more certain of not being followed.

A little walk along Mrs. Kennedy’s, he mused, temporarily interrupting the constant squawking of the nearby gulls. He ran three steps, and launched himself onto the next roof. A little jump to the Doctor’s house, As soon as he landed, he crouched, and sped round the corner where he turned and waited again.

He approached his skylight, and pulled it open. The hinges creaked a little and Jamie clambered inside, pulling the tar-blackened glass in place behind him.

The air in the attic space smelled stale and musty, with virtually no light whatsoever coming through the sloping roof above. He crouched, his senses elsewhere, listening for any sounds of pursuit.

He burped, then could not contain a grin as he tasted again the mutton pie he had eaten earlier. Ten minutes of lifting boxes and rolling sherry casks for Larry Craig at the Battle Flag had rewarded him with the tasty pastry. It was one of the few jobs he did, but it always proved worth it, as Larry’s wife made the best pies in the whole of Leith and Edinburgh combined.

Satisfied of his secrecy, he let out a large breath. My stash,

No one knew about his secret horde. Not even Gordon. Trust was a commodity built over years, and as yet, even Gordon did not qualify.

Reaching into one of the eaves of the attic, beyond the window catch, he retrieved an old box of matches, and pulled one of them free.

With a spattering of burning phosphor, the wooden taper caught, illuminating the whole angular room. Jamie shielded the match as much as he could, then lit a single gray candle. He blew the match out, and as the smoke from the taper drifted up into the eaves, he listened again. If anyone had the ability to follow him, they would only find a boy, huddled in an attic space.

He waited.

Eventually, he deemed it safe to move, and crawled quietly over the beams towards one corner. The candle cast sharp shadows as he moved. Careful not to disturb the random pattern of ancient dust which covered it, he lifted an old, dirt ingrained blanket.

Every time he performed the same operation, he expected to encounter nothing underneath. Each time he expected to have been found out; his precious stash stolen and sold, but again, he sighed in relief as his hand met the bundle. Carefully he drew it out into the light. He made a mental note to split his stash soon, maybe into three or four locations; danger lay in having all his eggs in the one basket.

He opened the bundle, reached inside, and pulled a heavy leather pouch which jingled with coins. He retrieved a small handful of coppers from his pocket and put them in the pouch; there would be no need for money that night.

His fingers worked quickly to re-secure the bundle, which he put carefully to one side.

He put his hand under the blanket again, and fumbled for a moment. He then pulled out a long wooden case which he placed across his knees. He slipped the telescope from the box, and pushed it into his belt.

~~~

Mulligan’s warehouse was a huge wooden building which overlooked the harbour. Jamie had once been told that the wording in tall white letters said ‘Edinburgh & District Warehousing Company’, but everyone knew it as ‘Mulligan’s’ after the stout owner of dubious Irish descent. The date under the name read 1678, but the weathering made it look much older.

Jamie nudged Gordon in the ribs. What do you think?

The view from the roof proved nothing short of spectacular. Their vantage point almost in line with the crow’s nest of the Swedish frigate and, as Jamie had promised, there were more lanterns on the deck of the ship than he had ever seen before. His eager eyes lingered over the ship’s details, and then reluctantly passed the telescope to his friend.

The frigate sat rock-steady in the harbor, stern towards Mulligan’s warehouse, and the gold wooden scrollwork on the rear windows glistened in the lantern light. A large brass plaque said Leca Stasa which proved easy for Jamie to pronounce.

She’s beautiful Jamie!

Aye, that she is.

Jamie pulled impatiently at Gordon’s arm for the return of the telescope, and felt surprised when Gordon resisted his gesture.

Wait Jamie! Gordon, said as he shook himself free. There’s a way across!

Jamie looked in the direction of the telescope’s sight.

Where?

Down there, Gordon handed the telescope to Jamie and pointed. Between the frigate and the expedition ships,

Jamie quickly found the area of interest.

As well as the anchors, the Swedish Captain had used a series of ropes to maintain the ship’s position in the center of the harbor. In the calm of the evening, most trailed in the water, but due to the shifting in tides, a taut rope strung between the frigate and the expedition clipper. If they could get onto the expedition vessel nearest the quayside, then cross to the third one, they could traverse the rope to the frigate.

I see it! Jamie’s usual grin spread over his face. He felt his heart rate increase and flashed a smile at Gordon. As Jamie quickly replaced the telescope tight in his belt, Gordon had already disappeared over the edge of the roof.

For Christ’s sake Gordon, Jamie hissed. Wait on me!

~~~

The climb down the warehouse wall took less time than the ascent ten minutes before, and moments later they were on the quay, moving from one dark pile of cargo to another. Slowly, and with infinite care, they inched their way to the nearest expedition clipper.

Gordon tapped Jamie’s shoulder and pointed to the stern.

There’s only two guards on the first one, he whispered.

Jamie nodded. The Caledonia. I can’t see anyone on deck o’ the other one.

So if we get aboard the Caledonia on the aft mooring rope, we can get over tae the third one no problem.

That’ll be the Unicorn.

Ok smartass, then we’re safe to the rail, an’ then we can see what’s up.

With a stealth gained from years of such escapades, they moved to the cargo nearest the rope stanchion; the most daring part of their adventure so far. Less than a stone’s throw from the guards on duty, lay a short distance of open quayside to be crossed. Jamie tucked the telescope safely into the back of his belt and, dropping prone, began the slow crawl to the mooring pillar on the edge of the quay.

The wood felt hard and uneven under his knees, and he cursed silently at the pain.

With less than six feet to go, he froze.

One of the guards left the mid-section of the Caledonia and climbed up the steps to the higher deck. Jamie felt Gordon’s hand touch his foot, and hoped that his friend would also stop. They watched with consternation as the guard got to the top of the steps. He stood for a moment, scanning the area, then turned and retraced his steps to the middle of the ship.

The Caledonia lay pulled tight to the quay, and the rail stood only a short jump away. With a single step Jamie clung to the wooden railing of the first expedition ship, peering through the smooth turned wood pillars. Gordon landed silently next to him.

Jamie watched the guard walk down the far steps to the lower deck. With a slow grin, he knew the upper deck of the Caledonia was theirs.

Let’s go! Jamie hissed, and smartly hauled himself over the rail onto the deck. The ship’s lit by lanterns so keep low.

Their bare feet made no sound as they quickly crossed the deck and looked over the side.

A quick rope pull, hand over hand to the next ship, and they soon were aboard. The third ship sat even closer.

The Unicorn, because it lay moored seaward of the Saint Andrew and the Caledonia, posted no guards at all. The boys found they could crouch safely behind the rail to watch the Swedish frigate.

The deck fifty feet ahead looked deserted, but Jamie knew that there had to be someone on duty. Lanterns hung from every mast and crossbeam. The blue and yellow pennants which hung lengthwise along the ship’s rigging made the view almost surreal. Jamie counted over twenty lamps before giving up the task.

Loud sounds of celebration drifted from the lit windows at the back of the ship.

Jamie pointed to the taut rope between the Unicorn and the Swedish ship. It had one of the new rat-traps; a disc of metal which the rodents could not cross.

Didna see that from Mulligan’s roof.

Gordon grinned. No problem mate! he said. I’ll go first.

He swung over the side and the weight of the boy’s body pulled the rope downward towards the still, black water. When he got to the trap, he simply let his feet drop, letting his body slowly slide into the harbor, then hand over hand, passed the disc and brought his feet back onto the rope. Once Gordon clung safely onto the side of the frigate Jamie followed along the rope after his friend.

Even the touch of the railing of the Swedish ship felt different from the other three they had crossed over. Where the expedition ships had been on the rough side, the Swedish woodwork proved smooth and pristine. Fine, shiny varnish with thin painted lines in blue and gold followed the rail and descended in patterns down the pillars.

Jamie pointed upwards into the rigging, and following his gaze, Gordon nodded.

This time I get to go first! Jamie said, and without waiting for Gordon he grabbed the rigging trace and began to climb.

The rope laddering seemed to creak loudly into the night air, but with steady, careful steps, he made the first walkway, above the lower crossbeam. He turned, holding onto the mast itself, and was about to wave his comrade to join him when a door to the main deck opened.

Jamie froze. Hellfire and buckets o’ brimstone! he hissed softly.

Four uniformed men, all armed with muskets, walked onto the deck. They talked for a moment, and then separated. As the men began to patrol the deck, Jamie watched in horror as one of them walked directly to where Gordon clung to the outside of the rail.

Jamie shook his head in disgust as he realized that they had probably boarded the ship just as the watch had been changed. Their chances of discovery had increased dramatically, and he rued his choices that had led him onward.

From his high vantage point, he looked on as Gordon tried to squeeze himself into the wood itself; a vain hope. As the sentry gained the top of the steps, he would be face to face with Gordon.

Simply no way the sentry would miss him.

Jamie sighed as he realized that there were only two options; either Gordon would slip off the ship’s side, falling into the water, where he could swim slowly to safety, or he would be caught.

As the sentry neared the steps to the upper level, Jamie took a deep breath and drew a stone from his pocket; Gordon needed a distraction.

Hey! Jamie shouted. Look up here ya’ tumshie! and smiled as all four guards looked up simultaneously.

He threw his stone and heard it clatter on the deck below, seeking to draw the soldiers’ attention from Gordon’s hiding place.

In a split second Jamie had formulated both his plan of action and the outcome; the guard would shout at him, Jamie would swing over a few ropes, leading the four men below a merry dance, then slip smartly down one of the mooring ropes into the darkness as Gordon slipped away to safety in the shadows.

He threw another stone at the nearest sentry and heard it ping off the decking. As easy as that, Jamie mouthed quietly as he untied a rope. He readied himself for the long swing to the mainmast, and then one look down made him realize that the plan had already gone radically wrong; the nearest guard had unslung his musket and stood busy priming it, ready to fire.

Hey! That’s no’ playin’ fair! Jamie shouted down as he readied the next stone.

The flash and report from the weapon, followed by the splinters of wood flying in Jamie’s face were all the convincing he needed.

Get out o’ there Gordon! He roared, grabbing the rope, swinging along the ship to the center mast. Another shot rang out into the night.

Two shots, Jamie murmured as he swung the long arc. Four muskets an’ two have missed me.

At the end of his swing, he grabbed a rope near the mast and dragged himself up to the small platform. He backed against the mast, confident not to be seen from the deck below.

Jamie reasoned that he had to evade two more shots, and then swing to safety as they re-loaded. He chanced a look over the side of the circular platform, just in time to see the flashes of the remaining two muskets.

Again wooden splinters flew into his face

Fine! he shouted. As quickly as he could he launched two more stones at the sailors, then looked around for a means of escape. He grinned as he caught sight of a rope running the length of the mainmast’s spar. He knew that if he could untie the rope, and then swing over to the Unicorn, he could catch hold of something, and clamber to safety.

He took a deep breath, knowing that this would be by far the biggest jump he had ever attempted. In the sure knowledge that the men below were re-loading, he slipped over the small wooden fence to the spar. His fingers pulled at the knots, and slowly the end of the rough rope came loose.

As he pulled the rope end through the knots, he looked down. New soldiers were moving onto the deck and three were bringing their muskets to bear. He looked over at his destination; awakened by the gunfire, passengers and crew of the expedition ships were also collecting on deck.

So much for a quick look at the frigate!

A single shot rang out, and Jamie felt the bullet whistle past his ear. A second shot sliced through his thigh, just as the last strand of the rope slipped free.

Argh! Jamie howled, slapping one hand to his leg. As he reared from the searing pain, he had the presence of mind to keep hold of the rope; now his only salvation.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped the rope tightly and let his body fall. In the first instant he fell straight downward towards the deck, then the rope tensed and he sailed past the open-mouthed soldiers in a fast and full arc towards the waiting rigging of the Unicorn.

At the optimum moment he let go the rope, clutching in the air with his hands for his next hold.

His head hit something and a rope burned his neck as he began to spin. Another rope slipped by his side, and for an instant Jamie grasped the thought that he might just make it alive.

As he fell Jamie instinctively reached out for a hold on the rigging, and then he hit something harder, and spun wildly downwards.

He felt a blinding, horrible pain in his stomach, and another blow to his head as he tumbled, slamming into the side of one of the ships.

Followed by the jarring impact of dark, cold, murky water.

Fog

July 25th 1698

Onboard the cargo vessel Saint Andrew

Off the coast of Ireland

A memory of pain lingered, and far too much of it.

It seemed to be everywhere, on his body, and his insides.

Jamie recalled the taste of blood, mingled with salty water.

And broth. An almost tasteless barley broth.

He coughed, the sound dying quickly, and he remembered throwing up. A lot of throwing up; which had strained his throat and chest.

He coughed again, and his sides protested. The pain made him recall straining until his stomach cramps worsened.

He flexed his fingers and realized they were stiff and sore.

He opened his eyes and remembered previous glimpses of the wooden slats above him which seemed to sway with a steady, constant rhythm which Jamie could not yet comprehend. As he lifted his head, the image spun, and dizziness quickly overcame him.

As he slept, he dreamt of ringlets of brown hair.

When he woke, he remembered brown eyes looking down on him, and he strained to remember where and when he had seen them. The memory lay clear; they were caring eyes which seemed to share his pain. They were surrounded by a pretty freckled face that sighed as he retched and strained. Jamie recalled small hands that patiently held the bowl of sick as he watched the elastic trail of spit stretch from his mouth to the bowl.

His eyes closed again, and he could almost smell a lightly perfumed cloth that wiped the mucus away.

He slept.

On one waking moment he stretched and pain shot through every part of his body. A dull ache in his leg throbbed as he succumbed to unconsciousness again.

He slept fitfully for a while, and when he turned, he opened his eyes long enough to take in his surroundings properly.

Jamie lay in a bunk bed; the slatted ceiling above proved to be the underside of the bed above. In the small room there was room for one other double bunk. The only clear wall had been hung with all sorts of paraphernalia: clothes, gardening tools, and various pieces of horse tack. No space lay on the wooden paneling, and more piles rose from the floor to meet what hung on the wall. On one wall lay a door, and on another a small round window; nothing else.

With a start, comprehension dawned on him.

I’m on a ship! he croaked, and found himself surprised by the deep, unfamiliar timbre of his own voice.

He jerked upright, but as soon as he had done so, he regretted the speed of his action. With a grimace, he caught the mouthful of barley behind his teeth and, finding no conveniently held bowl, forced himself to swallow the bile again. His head began to spin, and he lay back down. The harsh acid of the sick burned his throat, but he gasped air as he fought to keep it down.

The pillow felt soft against his cheek, and he caught a faint fragrance of lavender. Jamie smiled as he associated the smell with the girl with the freckles and the brown eyes. He determined to lie and wait until his stomach settled before rising again.

Through closed eyes, Jamie listened as footsteps and voices approached. Slowly the conversation became audible.

Something will have to be done, Thomas!

I’m well aware o’ that. said the second voice. It seemed more familiar then the first. But it’ll wait till the ladies stirs.

An’ what happens then?

We’ll deal wi’ that when the time comes, Michael Barrett. Thomas said.

The men had arrived at the door, and Jamie saw the handle turn. He closed his eyes quickly, and lay still. The voices now bellowed outside.

Look, I understand; just remember that you’ve two young daughters to consider.

In the name o’ Providence, propriety is not an issue here.

But it is!

Ach away with you man. Hannah is much too old for this to be considered improper; she’s fifteen, Michael. This lad’s barely twelve if he’s a day.

From another part of the ship, a distant bell rang.

It’s three o’clock. It’s time for me to check the cattle.

Aye, you do that, Thomas said. You check on your flock, an’ leave me to see to mine!

As the door opened, retreating steps punctuated Michael’s departure.

Jamie debated his next move, but his lips seemed to move of their own accord. I’m no’ sleepin’, he said, as he opened his eyes, at once conscious that his accent sounded thick compared to the more cultured conversation outside..

Thomas looked a middle aged man, his graying hair tied back in a queue, but the thing that surprised Jamie the most was the white dog collar and ties that lay under his chin; Thomas was a minister.

Neither you are lad. Neither you are. When Thomas smiled, the whole of the bottom of his face seemed to open wide.

He stepped to the other bunk and sat down, stretching his hand to Jamie’s brow. How are you feeling son? You gave us a’ quite a scare.

Jamie swallowed hard. I’m no’ bad, sir. He did not think for one instant that his lie at all convincing. His head still felt like strains of marble were being pulled through it.

The Reverend leant closer and pushed a few strands of hair from Jamie’s forehead. My name’s Munro. Thomas Munro. I’m a minister from Perth.

Sir, Jamie nodded slightly, his head still not clear.

Feel like you’ve been kicked by a horse?

Jamie started to laugh but stopped abruptly when the sharp pain in his side returned.

Mair like a dozen horses, sir, He managed a smile.

Ha! said the minister. One horse for every day you’ve lain in this bed!

Jamie grinned, and then as the full import of Munro’s words dawned, he shot bolt upright in the bed. Twelve days?

It proved the worst thing he could have done. As he swooned, sick rushed into his mouth. He fought it, realizing that he had far too many questions to ask, but it did no good.

~~~

As he woke, the taste in his mouth tasted of sick, so he surmised that he had not been fed since meeting Rev. Munro.

Twelve days! His words echoed strangely in the empty cabin. For the first time, Jamie felt aware of the pitching of the ship at sea, not just at anchor in a harbour.

Remembering what had happened on his last quick rise from his pillow, he slowly raised his body to his elbows. He determined to get out of bed when loud steps approached down the corridor, and the door opened to admit a large naval officer.

Without introduction Jamie instinctively knew that this man was the captain of the ship.

The large man took off his bicorn hat and sat on the bunk opposite, just as Munro had done. His rough features forced a smile, his ruddy nose prominent on his angular face. The small room made the Captain very close. Jamie could smell his fetid breath.

The Minister told me you are well enough to talk, the Captain said.

Jamie swallowed. Aye,

Aye, sir, the Captain corrected automatically. My name is Robert Pennecuick, and my rank is captain. You’ll always address me as ‘sir’.

Aye, sir, Jamie said, somewhat sheepishly, realizing Robert Pennecuick as a man not to be trifled with.

The Captain shifted forward on the bed, but his gaze never moved. What do you call yourself?

Jamie, sir, Jamie Leith.

That’s convenient, considering that’s where we hauled you onboard. His expression did not change. So what were you doing on the Swedish frigate?

Jamie’s blurt of Nothin’ seemed out of his mouth far too quickly.

Nothing? Pennecuick’s brows narrowed, and Jamie knew he lay in trouble.

Aye, sir, Nothin’,

That is just a pure lie, ladies. I’m the captain of this vessel, James Leith, and I like to know what kind of rat I’m harboring. His stare defied Jamie to look away. Tell the truth, or I’ll throw you overboard myself. What were you doing onboard the Swedish Frigate?

Jamie swallowed. She was bonny, sir. She was the brightest an’ most colorful thing ever tae pull intae Leith. I had tae see her up close, sir.

All fair and well lad, but for what purpose? Why did you have to go onboard?

Just tae be close sir, just tae be able tae say we’d done it.

So what are you lad? A thief?

No sir, I’m not!

Jamie’s denial mimicked the Captain’s more cultured accent, and he made a decision to continue to clean both his accent and his rapidly diminishing reputation.

So this would be your property then? The Captain reached inside his coat and pulled out Jamie’s telescope. Not something you’ve stolen?

I didn’t steal it sir, it belonged to my dad. Jamie recognized a time for quick thinking; knew that he scrambled for his life. He was in the Navy sir, it was a’ I got when the news came back.

News lad?

Aye, sir. Dad was killed in the Low Countries.

Jamie contained a wry grin. In truth, he had last seen his father passed out on a table in Leith, his head lying in a pool of rum and beer. The telescope had been another thing altogether. Jamie had found it lying near a passed out drunk in Whitman’s Close.

His shipmates brought his purse back to Edinburgh for my mum, Jamie continued his lie. Since I was eldest, I got the telescope.

What ship did he sail on lad?

Jamie mentally squirmed. He was all over sir, but he didn’t bring much money home, sir.

The Captain looked at the telescope carefully, then shifted his steely gaze to Jamie. And your father’s name?

Ross, sir,

The Captain squinted at him.

Jamie continued. When they toasted him in The Chain Pier—that was his pub sir, they just called him ‘Ropey Ross’ on account o’ him being a rope splicer, sir.

Humph. A ropeman, huh?

Jamie nodded.

Maybe it’s a trade you’ll learn onboard. No free passengers on this trip, lad.

Captain Pennecuick stood up, holding the telescope. So why call yourself ‘Leith’, then, if your name is Ross?

Jamie swallowed. He beat me when he came home, sir. Beat me bad. I swore I’d no’ use his name, sir.

Pennecuick slipped the telescope back inside his coat. Like it or not lad, it’s your name. You might think on that.

The Captain turned to leave, and Jamie’s unanswered questions burst through any impropriety barrier.

Sir?

The Captain turned. Aye, lad?

Where exactly are we? An’ when can I get back home?

Jamie half expected to be rebuffed, even rebuked for his question. Naval captains were notorious for their harsh discipline, but he lay unprepared for the Captain’s reaction.

Captain Pennecuick laughed.

He laughed so loud, the walls seemed to shake.

That’s a good one lad! he slipped in between guffaws. Back home?

Jamie waited open mouthed, until the Captain had calmed down. Where are we bound, sir? he persisted, but he feared that he would not like the answer.

Captain Pennecuick opened the door, and paused in the corridor. Why Jamie Leith, we’re bound for Madeira, in the Spanish Isles, just off the coast of Africa.

Jamie could feel his mouth fall open.

Then after Madeira, we’re off to the West Indies, and then to Jamaica. We won’t be in Leith for a very long time.

As the door closed and the Captain’s footsteps faded, all of Jamie’s other questions died on his lips. Most of them were meaningless now. They involved a past life, one to which he would be hard pressed to return. He thought of his mother, and of Gordon, and all the others back home in Leith that he may never see again.

~~~

When the girl entered the cabin, Jamie recognized her immediately as Hannah. He remembered the brown eyes that had fed him. The brown eyes that had gazed over him with sympathy as he had retched over her fingers into the waiting bowl. His memory burned with the smile that had patiently fed him broth as he had unconsciously fought against the pressure of the spoon at his lips. Engrained into his mind lay the lightly freckled face that had cared so much for him.

The reverend and a woman Jamie assumed would be his wife, stood motionless behind Hannah at the doorway. Then a small voice broke the palpable silence.

Can I see? Pushing past, a smaller girl prised her way through.

Hello! The girl said excitedly, as she took three bold steps to his bedside. Jamie recognized the same freckles as Hannah’s younger sister.

Hello, Jamie replied. His new, lower voice continued to surprise him.

You can talk? said the young girl, kneeling on the cabin floor. What’s your name? She put some wicker figures on the bed, seeming not to care for answers after she’d asked the questions. Would you like to play?

Rebekah! the woman scolded. Don’t be so forward.

With a wounded look, the girl pulled the faded top folds of her long dress out from her kneeling form and quickly began to gather her wicker figures to her.

It’s a’ right Rebekah, Jamie said, as he pulled himself more upright in the bed. All right, he corrected himself, remembering to curb his accent. My name is James Leith. He extended his hand to Rebekah. But my friends call me Jamie.

Rebekah stood up and took his offered hand, shook it once, then did a small curtsey. Rebekah Ruth Munro, she said, then a cloud seemed to fall over her face, and she turned to the other bunk and began to play quietly with the wicker figures.

Jamie felt something amiss with young Rebekah, but his mind still lay muddled.

The Reverend Munro took up a seat opposite Jamie’s bed. So you’re back with us lad.

I think so, sir.

This is my wife, Catherine, and this is Hannah.

Jamie nodded, and noticed Hannah blushing slightly.

Hannah’s been the one who’s been looking after you. My wife’s been too busy nursing the seasick amongst the rest of us.

The broth, Jamie smiled.

Yes Hannah said. You gave me quite a fight sometimes.

Jamie felt his turn to blush. Her voice sounded soft, and her accent strange but enticing.

He suddenly remembered that he lay onboard a ship.

Can I go up on deck, sir? he asked. I feel like it’s part o’ a dream, an’ I won’t believe it till I see the sea for myself.

Captain Pennecuick doesn’t like us on deck lad, says we get in the way of the running of the ship. We spend most of our time down here.

You won’t see anything anyway, there’s fog everywhere. Hannah said. You could look out the window though! She crossed the small room and opened the glass frame in the small square opening. Although you can’t see anything there either.

Mrs. Munro glared at her daughter sternly. Young lady! Before he gets to look out the window, he’ll have to get some proper clothes on!

She looked instantly at the floor. Yes Mother.

Mrs. Munro looked at her husband and nodded. I’ll get him something to wear. I won’t be a minute.

A silence grew in the room after she left.

Has it really been two weeks, sir? Jamie asked. I know I’ve been sick, but I can’t get it in my head.

Sick? Munro laughed. When we dragged you onboard, you were all but dead. You’d taken so much water we had to literally pump it out of you.

You were really sick, Jamie, Hannah added, then glanced at her father and stopped herself.

Rebekah made a mime of throwing up which Jamie couldn’t help finding amusing.

A bullet had gone straight through your leg here. Munro slapped his own thigh. So you had two holes in you. You had two lumps on your head the size of turnips, and you should have seen the color of the bruising. It’s still yellow yet!

Jamie gulped.

Add to that the dislocated shoulder, and the sickness brought on by all that bad salt water. Then there was the infection in your leg. You’re lucky to be here at all. We all prayed for you for days, and we know that without His help, you would have died.

Hannah leant over. The surgeon has bled you four times.

Bled me? Jamie said in shock, On purpose?

They all nodded.

Thank you both for what you did. I know I’ll never be able to make it up to you.

Do you have family in Edinburgh, Jamie? Munro asked. Will anyone be missing you?

No, sir, just my ma’, an’ I didn’t really stay with her, if you know what I mean. She won’t be missing me.

Oh. In a way I’m glad, because we had to keep you onboard ship. The Swedish marines were determined to put you under arrest.

If it hadn’t been for Captain Pennecuick, Hannah blurted, the marines would have taken you away.

The Reverend Munro gripped her shoulder tightly. Captain Pennecuick refused to let you go, saying you were his responsibility till he decided otherwise.

The boy that was with you— Hannah interrupted.

Gordon! Jamie snapped.

Munro’s face clouded. You knew him well?

He’s my best friend, Jamie said, conscious that she’d said ‘knew’.

Hannah turned away, tears already falling down her freckled cheeks.

Hannah, take Rebekah through to the others will you? Munro asked. Jamie and I need a moment in private.

Jamie’s heart sank, not really wanting to know anything more.

After the door had closed, Munro sat opposite. Jamie, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll say it straight. Your friend Gordon is dead.

What?

Aye lad, it’s the truth. The Swedish marines caught him onboard and put him under arrest. The next morning they hung him by the neck. From one of the ship’s masts; held him aloft for all the harbour to see.

Dead?

Aye son, as sure as I’m standing here; hung by the neck until dead. The Leith bailiffs came for him in the morning, but the Swede’s had jurisdiction on their own ship. He paused. They were within their rights, brutal though their actions were.

Jamie felt tears flow down his cheeks. In a short space of time he had been told he lay on his way to the ends of the earth, and his friend had been killed; dead from a prank that he started. He felt entirely responsible, and slipped back onto the pillow.

Sadness came over him, with a great deal of personal guilt, and although he knew the reverend spoke, he could not concentrate on the words. Jamie felt like he had slipped the noose over Gordon’s head himself.

That’s why you were kept onboard lad. Mr. Vetch, the Company representative, and Captain Pennecuick, argued that you were their responsibility. We volunteered one of our bunks and agreed to take care of you. Mrs. Munro has had experience of nursing, but as it turned out, our Hannah took over.

They hung him. Jamie said quietly. He wiped the tears from his face then lapsed into silence.

He still found it difficult to accept that Gordon was dead, but his recriminations were interrupted as Mrs. Munro arrived with a shirt, trousers, and a belt; she tossed them on Jamie’s bed, and left quickly. Reverend Munro followed her.

Left on his own, Jamie slowly got up.

As he pulled off his nightshirt, his muscles protested after long weeks of rest. He flexed his shoulders and groaned out loud with the sharp pains. One leg had a clean bandage, but a sickly yellow bruise covered the other.

No blood showing, and that’s a good thing, he mumbled, as he gripped the bunk above. He slowly stood up, feeling the motion of the ship for the first time. Carefully he put on the brown trousers. They were slightly large, but better quality than he was used to. The cream shirt fit him well, and he tucked the long tails into his trousers and pulled the belt tight.

Drawing a deep breath, he looked out of the porthole to see nothing but fog. Putting aside his pain, he pulled himself up and stuck his head outside. He could see the lapping water against the wooden planks, just feet below him, but the fog looked so thick, even the water vanished a few feet from the hull.

As he let himself down again, he wondered which way lay home. Then his thoughts turned to the streets of Leith, once so familiar, now many miles away. Finally, his mind turned to Gordon, cold and stiff, probably wrapped in a thin sheet, lying in a paupers grave on the Leith common ground.

He caught a tear as the door opened and Reverend Munro stepped in.

Looks like you’re in luck lad, the officer of the watch says you can go on deck for ten minutes.

Following the minister, he limped along the short corridor, bracing himself on both walls. His leg hurt, but it proved usable. He slid his hands along the doors and the smooth wood paneling for support.