The Legend of Chip: The Perilous Journey

By Stanley E Campbell

Charged with a crime he didn’t commit, Chip flees his homeland. Under the alias of William Chips, he finds himself again in the services of Captain O’Toole and aboard the mighty Ottoman. Embarking on a new and dangerous voyage, they set course for the tense shores of the British Colonies.

To his dismay, Chip soon discovers that

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Writer Publications
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780999597156

Stanley E Campbell

By day, Stanley Campbell is a Systems Administrator for a national healthcare company in his hometown of Louisville, Kentucky. By night, he is an author and a writer. Above all of this, he is a husband to his beautiful wife, father of two young boys, Christian, and an active member in his church. In his spare time, Stanley studies eighteenth-century history. This is his second novel. He is currently writing the third book of the series, along with other works.

Book preview

1

Farewell To Scotland

Christopher MacDougall stared up at the bow of the mighty Ottoman. As he did, Mr. Prose’s words floated back to him.

One last word of advice. I would turn down any offers to leave Scotland. Remember what happened the last time you decided to flee your troubles.

Only a few days prior, the demon of a man had stood on the pier in the north of Leith and all but admitted that he had purposely tricked him, sending his life down the path that he now found himself on. Several times since then, he had asked his friend Humphrey to confirm that it had really happened. To his dismay, Humphrey confirmed that it hadn't been a dream. Christopher shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the memory.

Something wrong, Master?

Chip sighed, looking down at the tiny rat that sat next to his boot. There be many things wrong, Humphrey. Trouble be, little friend, I doth not know whether this be the answer.

Master, ye saith that the other mongrels doth not believe ye, yet yer fellow mongrel and all those mongrel pups were there. Might they not tell the other mongrels what happened?

Aye, they could. Unfortunately, Jonah and all the young lads and lasses be Scots. Because of this, the English doth not believe them. English and Scots doth not trust one another.

Chip smiled as he watched the tiny rat try to comprehend what he had just said, for what felt to be the hundredth time.

I doth not understand the mistrust amongst animals of the same kind, Master. What be gained from these English supposing they doth not care for thee?

It not be a matter of caring, me little friend. We fought, and they were the dominant of the two.

Ye saith these English hath their own land. Why must they need yers? Rats hath many packs. Long as there be place enough for us, we not need more.

Mongrels be different. Some mongrels live to conquer.

I still doth not understand, Master, but I accept what ye say.

Chip leaned down and allowed the tiny rat to climb up his sleeve and onto his shoulder.

Before I board this vessel, little friend, there be something that I must do, he sighed, glancing at Humphrey. Unfortunately, what I must do shall be dangerous.

Whatever ye must do, Master, me and me pack be with ye.

Chip could no longer walk freely down the cobbled streets of Edinburgh. Every time the scouts from Humphrey’s pack would shout, Danger!, he would dodge out of sight or change course. Their warnings meant that humans lie ahead. For this reason, it took nearly half the morning for him to reach the edge of Long Street.

Houses lined the street, knit tightly together, though not nearly as close as those nearer to the center of Edinburgh. This difference gave Chip the advantage to be able to ease his way along the outer wall that lined the drainage runoff, which ran behind the houses. The growth of trees on the opposing side provided enough cover that he didn’t fear being seen.

When he finally reached Number 9, he hesitated before sneaking over the wall and into the small grassy yard.

Humphrey, send a rat to scout this dwelling for life.

Me pack shall listen to ye, Master.

Aye, but ye understand me better.

Humphrey twitched his nose rapidly, sending one of the rats ahead to scout. Several minutes later, the rat returned.

One female mongrel be present inside the dwelling, mongrel Chip, the gray rat reported.

Chip nodded. Thank ye, rat.

Chip had come too far to be deterred by the possibility of it being Ms. Douglas, the housekeeper. If it were her, he would just have to make a run for it. If she tried to stop him, he would be forced to go against his upbringing.

Making up his mind, Chip eased up to the kitchen door and slowly opened it up. To his relief, he saw Mary standing in the kitchen, humming quietly to herself.

Mary, Chip whispered, trying not to alarm her.

Tea flew across the room as the cup she had been preparing shattered against the floor.

Christopher! Mary hissed, motioning for him to enter the kitchen. Ye should not hath come here!

I had to see ye.

Ye must flee. Should they catch ye here, they shall surely send ye to the gallows.

Chip dropped to his knees, taking her hands in his, and looking up at her. Mary, I love ye, and I did not murder that man.

Mary dropped down beside him as tears streaked her cheeks. Ye doth not need to tell me. I hath known ye too long to believe that ye would ever murder a man. Nor doth I believe that ye would trade children as slaves. As for yer love, I hath never questioned.

I doth not know what to do, me love. There be evil at work against me for reasons I doth not understand. Ye were right about Mr. Prose. He hath evil intentions, yet me worries clouded me judgment. I should hath listened to me heart, and to thee.

Mr. Prose? Mary’s mouth fell open. He hath done this to ye? Be ye sure?

Aye. The demon all but admitted it to me. He saith that I would lose all that I loved. Fear filled Mary's eyes as she stared at her husband. I know it sounds as though I be off the hooks, but he be dangerous.

Mary grasped his hands with hers. Christopher, I believe ye.

What shall I do? Chip stared into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, awaiting his answer.

We must run, Mary breathed. Flee far away from here. I cannot bear to see yer head roll beneath the Maiden or swing from the gallows. We must leave Scotland forever.

What of Marcus? Chip retorted, biting his lip. He not be in any condition. Supposing he could, what life would it be for ye and the children?

We would be with ye.

Chip shook his head. I shall be in constant danger, me love. If something' twas to happen to ye or the children … I would never carry on.

I hath been so foolish! she sobbed, leaning her head against his. Forgive me! Please!

Chip pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her while he stroked her head. He sat there on the floor, holding her tight and wishing that he could stay there for all eternity. Unfortunately, he knew that the longer he stayed, the more danger he brought to his family. His only consolation came from the fact that Humphrey’s pack stood sentient and would alert him to any danger.

I forgive ye, me love, he whispered into her ear. We both made mistakes. I shall never leave ye again.

Mary lifted her head, looking him in the face. Should ye stay, ye shall surely die. They shall not tire until they find ye.

I shall gladly trade a life of loneliness for a few more hours with ye.

Mary shook her head. Nay, Christopher. I hath been selfish enough. I shall not allow ye to sacrifice yer life to stay with the children and me. I shall not allow me children to see their father murdered. Ye must flee … and with haste.

I not bear the thought.

Ye must. It be the only way. Mary swallowed hard as she stared into his eyes, a fire burning in her gaze. I see the promise in yer eyes. Hold to yer faith, Christopher, and it shall bring ye safely back to me one day. I shall never give up on ye ever again.

Mary, I—

He be with ye, Christopher, Mary interrupted, placing a hand against the side of his face.

Chip glanced down at the floor beside them to see Humphrey hiding in the shadows. Mary's eyes followed his, and she smirked as she spotted the small form.

He’s given ye a companion, she added, causing Chip’s eyes to widen as he stared at her.

What did ye say?

The good book saith that he created all creatures, Christopher. He sends us what we need, even though we doth not at first understand.

At that moment, Chip broke down and told her all that had happened to him. He knew that the chance might never be afforded him again, once he boarded the Ottoman. She sat there in his arms and listened, not once attempting to interrupt or remove herself from his grasp. When he had finished, he sat, staring at the unreadable expression upon her face.

I prayed that He would send ye a guardian angel. Now I know me prayers were answered.

Ye believe me?

Mary gripped his hands. Aye, Christopher. I believe ye. Even though I doth not understand why ye must be torn from me, I still believe.

I never deserved ye.

Nay, Christopher. It be I that hath been blessed by ye. Mary sniffed to keep from breaking into sobs. Now, take ye companion and board the Ottoman before it be too late.

He watched as Mary placed her hand on the floor and patted softly for Humphrey to come to her. Slowly, the tiny rat approached her fingertips, sniffing as she lifted her hand and stroked his head. Chip blinked in amazement as Humphrey laughed at her touch.

Take care of him, Humphrey, she whispered.

Mary, I—

Nay, Christopher, Mary interrupted once more, pushing herself up to her feet and tugging him to his. Ye not stay, but I shall wait for ye.

I shall find a way to clear me name and come back to ye and the children. Chip felt a renewed fire burning inside his chest.

One day, Christopher, I know we shall be reunited. Until then, all me love goes with ye.

I wish I could see Marcus and Anna once more before I go, but I fear I would never be able to tear meself away, Chip sobbed, looking down.

I shall give them yer love, Christopher, Mary whispered as she embraced him. They miss ye, but they be strong. Anna prays with me at night for ye while Marcus plots his ways to rescue ye. I shall tell them that ye and little Humphrey be safe. They shall know their father still be the man I hath always known.

I would not be mentioning me in the presence of Ms. Douglas. Chip choked out a chuckle.

I hath dismissed Ms. Douglas. Neither her nor Mr. Wallace be welcome in me house anymore.

Be careful, Mary, Chip warned, sobering up quickly, as he stared into her eyes. I not be certain about Mr. Wallace. I fear that he might be dangerous.

A fierce look filled her eyes. I be a Scot, and I be Mrs. MacDougall. I shall protect me family.

I love ye, Mary.

And I ye. Mary pulled him into a searing kiss. Now go, before it be too late.

They released hands and Chip leaned down, extending his arm toward the tiny rat. Humphrey climbed up his sleeve and onto his shoulder as Mary watched. A smile spread across her face as she placed her hands over her mouth.

I shall return, I swear.

Mary nodded. I shall wait.

With that, Chip opened the kitchen door and departed Number 9 Long Street, not knowing whether he would ever return, the vision of his wife’s face burning in his mind.

One exhausting hour later, Chip arrived in the south of Leith. The Naval Yard buzzed with English soldiers, hurrying about to perform the day’s tasks. With the morning gone and the heart of the day at hand, he knew that it would be foolish to attempt to board the Ottoman.

Tired and hungry, Chip resigned to hiding away in the rafters of a nearby warehouse, that housed bags of grain, until evening had come. Though Jonah’s friend, Amos, who worked a produce stand, would never turn him into the Reds, he risked too much by sneaking into the market to purchase food. He watched as Humphrey and his fellow pack fed upon the loose grain that coated the wooden floor.

I shall be boarding this vessel and know not how long I shall be gone, Chip explained to Humphrey’s pack.

Where ye go, we go, the master rat of the pack replied.

Doth ye understand that ye pack might not survive the journey?

Where ye go, we go, mongrel Chip, the rat retorted. We be yer pack.

Chip rubbed his face with his hands in frustration. Understand me, Master rat. I not be responsible, should yer pack perish from the voyage.

Aye, mongrel Chip, I understand.

Once darkness had fallen, Chip made his way to the gangplank of the Ottoman and onto its vast deck. A deep voice haled Chip from the shadows.

Who goes there?

Ahoy, Mr. Barrett, Chip retorted.

Mr. MacDougall! Mr. Barrett whispered. Quickly! Follow me and keep your face low.

Mr. Barrett escorted Chip to the Captain’s quarters.

Ah, Mr. MacDougall! Captain O’Toole greeted him with a glass of whiskey and a warm embrace. Welcome to yer new abode for the days ahead.

Thank ye, sir.

Captain O’Toole took a seat in front of his desk and motioned for Chip to join him. I be truly sorry ye must return to me ranks in such a manner. I presume that ye hath made peace with yer decision?

Chip nodded but did not respond. His mind remained focused upon the family he had left behind. He knew that Scotland, though a vast country, held no life for him anymore. He would always be in hiding should he stay. He would always be looking over his shoulder and waiting for a Red to barge in and haul him off to the gallows.

I shall not lie and saith I be sad to see ye return. Yer presence be a blessing to this ship, even though ye doth not see it as such. Now, we shall be venturing on a long and terrible journey. I welcome yer presence, as yer spirit shall be needed. We might even need yer lotman side as well.

Doth ye expect much trouble aboard, during the voyage?

Captain O’Toole chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. The Crown hath fitted the Ottoman with forty new pounders since ye last sailed with us, swelling the ports to full in preparation for this journey.

Chip let out a low whistle. Even though he had boarded by the cover of darkness, he still found amazement in the fact that he had not noticed the Ottoman now sat a ninety-two gunner.

With all that hath transpired, the Crown be fearful of Spanish entanglement, the Captain continued. I doth not expect nothing more than what be normal until we reach the waters of the Americas. It shall be then when I shall most likely require yer newly acquired skills. Chip raised an eyebrow at the Captain’s statement. Enough of that for now. The Captain downed the rest of his glass and sighed, What shall we call ye?

Call me, sir?

Aye. Ye shall not go about this ship as Mr. MacDougall. Not all aboard know ye, and Christopher MacDougall be a wanted man. The Captain poured himself another glass, smiling as he breathed in the aroma of the amber liquid. Now, what shall we call ye. It must be a name that ye shall easily recognize and respond to.

Me second name be James, but I hath never been fond of it. Chip sat thinking, his mouth twisted to one side. Me father's name ‘twas William, and I be used to being called Chip.

William Chips it be then!

Wait … What?

It fits ye, lad. Ye look like a William, and the name Chips comes from the name given to wood carpenters. As ye know, I hath a strong fondness for carpenters, as doth ye.

I still doth not understand the humor, Chip sighed, shaking his head at the Captain’s running joke.

Well, Mr. Chips, a man like yer father before thee, welcome to me crew! the Captain exclaimed, slapping Chip on the shoulder. Ye shall still need to lie low until we leave port. The English soldiers may wish to search the Ottoman once more before we depart. Should this happen, there be a secret door behind me desk. It be the only plank with a knot in it. Press down upon the plank, and the door shall open. Climb inside and wait until I fetch ye.

I know not how to thank ye, Captain.

The Captain inclined his head. It be me honor, Mr. Chips. I dare say this be the hardest thing ye shall ever do. Ye leave yer country as wanted man to the English but whispered as a hero among those Scots who know.

What Scots know besides ye, Jonah, and those aboard this vessel?

Why all the Scots I hath been telling in the taverns since ye sank the Nomas! The Captain roared with laughter as Chip spit out a mouth full of whiskey, choking and coughing as he did. Not to worry, lad. I spread the tale that ye hath headed into the Highlands for refuge or off to Europe, shouting ‘All for Scotland’ all the way.

Chip started to retort when Mr. Barrett entered the cabin, looking quite serious.

The Captain rose to his feet. What be the trouble, Mr. Barrett?

English soldiers be requesting permission to search the Ottoman. I requested them to state their business, but they refused to answer to any except the Captain of the ship.

Mr. Chips, to the place I told ye of, the Captain commanded, nodding to Chip. I shall greet our guests.

Chip hurried around to the back of the Captain’s desk and found the plank with the knot, just as the Captain and Mr. Barrett left the cabin. He pressed on the plank, and a door lifted to the right of his hands. He opened it and squeezed inside the small space, pulling the door shut above him as Humphrey scurried down into his coat pocket.

Muffled voices filled the cabin, Chip counting every breath as though they might be his last. The hard-soled boots echoed above his head, their owners growing closer to him.

Search all ye wish, Corporal. Mr. MacDougall shall not be found wandering about me vessel.

Thank you, Captain. Once we have searched the hull, two of my soldiers shall remain aboard until morning. We have reason to believe that Mr. MacDougall might attempt to stow aboard.

Doth ye believe that one of me crew might attempt to harbor him?

Unfortunately, we do.

Well, yer soldiers be welcome aboard. It truly be a shame. Mr. MacDougall ‘twas quite the First Mate.

That, I have heard. Good evening, Captain.

The sound of boots echoed against the wooden floor, fading until the sound of the cabin door marked the Corporal’s departure.

Stay below until the morn, the Captain whispered. I shall fetch ye when the soldiers be gone. Make not a sound until then.

Chip did as the Captain ordered. He tried to rest but found the task impossible. His mind laid somewhere between consciousness and sleep until the door above him flew open. The morning light flooded the tiny space.

Mornin’, lad, the Captain greeted, offering him a hand up. Time to stretch yer legs a bit. The soldiers hath departed.

The Captain had to help Chip to his feet, his legs growing numb from the confined space.

Help yer self to some coffee. I hath a fresh brew on me desk. The Captain motioned for him to take a seat.

Chip poured himself a cup. Thank ye, Captain. I hope ye be accepting me apologies. I doth not wish for ye to enter into deception on me count.

Deception, Mr. Chips? What deception be ye speaking of?

Chip attempted to decipher the smile on his face. Sir—

Listen to me, lad. I know that ye be innocent. I shall never feel weary of saving an innocent man from the gallows or the maiden. The Captain leaned back in his chair. When dealing with Reds, ye must learn to weigh every word as though it might be yer last. I know what to saith and how I must speak it.

Thank ye again, Captain. I owe ye much.

Ye owe me nothin’, lad. Ye hath served me well. It be the post of a Captain that yer crew becomes yer family. The weighted silence that followed spoke of past regret. Speaking of family, hath ye saith yer farewells? It shall be a while before we return to these shores.

I visited me home, but only me whither be there.

How doth she perceive all that hath happened?

She believes in me innocence. She saith she shall wait for me. I only wish I hath been able to tell me … Chip’s throat wouldn’t allow him to continue.

The Captain pulled open a drawer to his desk. He reached inside, withdrawing parchment and quill. Write to them, lad. Let not this ship sail without letting them know how ye feel. Make not the mistakes of yer Captain.

Chip nodded, accepting the parchment. He need not ask what the Captain meant.

Marcus eased his chair across the floor, his wheels creaking as he edged past the kitchen door.

Where be ye off to? a voice called.

Only to the study, Momma.

Marcus’s mother studied his face while wiping her hands on her apron. Then why doth ye creep?

I doth not wish to bother thee.

His mother knelt beside his chair. Ye shall never be a bother.

He could see the smothering hug coming when a swift knock at the door drew her attention. He watched his mother as she straightened her dress, took a deep breath, and headed to the door.

Aye? What can I doth for thee?

Marcus turned to see a small boy standing outside the door.

Ma’am, I hath a letter for thee.

The boy shoved the envelope into Marcus’s mother's hand, tipped his cap, and sprinted off. His mother frowned, covering her mouth with one hand, then walked back toward him.

What be it, Momma?

She handed the envelope to him. It be for ye.

Marcus looked at the coarse envelope, which bore his name. He flipped it over, broke the seal, and withdrew a folded parchment of the same texture. He then unfolded it and began to read.

Marcus, me beloved boy,

With a heavy heart I write, knowing not when, or if ever I might see ye again. Ye and yer sister be me pride and me joy. All I hath done hath been for thee. Ye shall hear many terrible things about me. Let me saith thus now. These things that people might speak not be true. I hath done what I must and shall continue till the day comes I be with ye again. Be strong, me boy. For yer mother and yer sister. Hold to yer faith. Wax strong and become the man I know lies within thee. I draw from yer courage daily. Indeed, ever be a long while. Yer words doth burn within me. I pray ye believe in me as I believe in thee. It matters not where the winds might carry me. Know yer father loves ye and Anna with all his soul. Tell her this for me.

With all me love,

Yer father, now and evermore.

---

His mother sobbed silently behind him. He folded the parchment and gently placed it back inside the envelope. His hands trembled as he stared at the drop of wax. It bore no seal, nor any markings that could be defined. A smile curved his face.

Shall I read this to Anna, Momma?

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Nay. Not until I hath had a chance to speak with her.

Hello? a voice called from the doorway.

Marcus jerked, quickly stuffing the envelope inside his vest and turned again to see Mr. Wallace standing in the open door.

Mr. Wallace, his mother answered, sniffing and wiping her face. What brings ye by this morn?

Marcus could not tell which gave him chills. The wind from the door or his mother’s icy words.

I only come to deliver news from the bank concerning ye account.

Doth ye not hath messengers for such? Marcus’s mother retorted, folding her arms.

It be of a sensitive nature, Mrs. MacDougall. I doth not wish to leave it to a simple messenger.

Then wait for me in the sitting room. I must tend to something in the kitchen first. Mr. Wallace nodded as she turned back to Marcus. Go tend to yer studies. Call for me if ye need me.

Aye, Momma. Marcus wheeled himself into the study without a second glance at the banker.

The sound of heeled boots clicked behind him as he searched the shelves for a book to read. He turned to see Mr. Wallace standing behind him. Sir, the sitting room be across the hall.

The man attempted to smile. I know. I only wonder what hath yer mother so distracted.

Sir, should ye not ask me mother?

The banker sighed. I be afraid that if I do, I might offend her further. I wondered if it might hath something to do with the envelope ye be holding when I entered.

That envelope be none of yer business, sir, Marcus snapped, dropping all pretenses. I know not why ye be here, but ye not be me mother or me father and nothing within this house be yer concern.

I know that it be hard losing yer father—

Me father not be lost to me, Marcus interrupted. One day he shall return home.

Mr. Wallace nodded. I truly hope what ye saith be true.

Nay, I doth not think ye do. That day might not be well for thee.

Marcus watched as the man chewed his lower lip, his chest heaving. Their eyes locked, and Marcus could see his anger kindling.

Me mother be waiting for thee in the sitting room, sir.

The man’s face softened. Ye be correct, young Mr. MacDougall. Enjoy yer studies.

Mr. Wallace nodded to Marcus before turning and leaving the study. As Marcus watched the man’s retreating back disappear through the doorway, the words from his father’s letter burned in his mind.

I shall become the man ye wish me to be, father, and ye shall be here to witness it, he breathed, barely above a whisper.

2

The Request

Chip spent the first several days of the voyage inside the Captain's cabin. The Captain felt it unwise for the ‘stricken’ Mr. Chips to make a miraculous recovery the moment the ship hit open waters. The crew members of the Ottoman that didn’t know Chip might become suspicious, and he felt uncertain where their loyalties might lie.

Once the Captain announced Mr. Chips as ‘well' to the crew, he assigned Chip to the crow's nest. Perched just above the mainsail, the post worked well for him. The position also suited Humphrey, who enjoyed the smells and view of the ocean. It allowed the two to communicate freely without the worry of Chip being thrown into the brig for madness. Occasionally, one of Humphrey's pack would journey up the mast to speak with Chip and Humphrey on behalf of the Master rat. Most questions revolved around the safety of the pack and food.

While in the small circular basket, Chip contemplated what had happened to him over the past several years. Staring out over the endless sea, memories unrolled before him. They covered the vast expanse as though paintings on one enormous canvas. The image he beheld couldn’t be considered beautiful. However, the longer Chip concentrated, the clearer the vision became.

His father's untimely and mysterious death had scarred him and left him broken. Then, Mary came into his life and began to heal the wounds of his loss. The happiness he had found came short-lived when his mother fell stricken with illness and passed. The final blow came with the burning of the bakery in Balloch.

The self-destruction of Chip’s life had forced he and his family to leave the only life they had known behind and move south to Edinburgh in search of work. Truthfully though, he knew that in his desperation to start anew, he had been willing to separate his wife from her family. Mary never complained, but he knew that she missed her mother and father.

Desperate. That word describes me well, Chip mused aloud as he stared out at the endless North Sea. Here I be, aboard the mighty Ottoman once more, headed for the British Colonies in the Americas. Desperation be me creed. The very thing that started all me troubles in Edinburgh and Leith controls me steps yet again. In me most trying of times, Mr. Prose hath swept in, like a bird of prey, with his dark intentions.

But had he just swept in? Chip pondered silently, considering what Mr. Prose had said to him. Somehow, Mr. Prose had known of Balloch, as though he had been there. At the pier, Mr. Prose claimed to have known his father—though Chip could not recall ever seeing Mr. Prose before.

Chip shook his head. Nay. It be far-fetched to believe that Mr. Prose could hath possibly orchestrated me need and hath been there at the precise moment to capitalize.

Yet, as Chip reviewed the last ten years of his life, while up high above the world, the impossible started to become easier to believe.

Master?

"Aye, me