Entry # two
2
If you've got a moment or two, there's a story I know that I wouldn't mind telling. It's a true story about the first and last time I ever went to sea and about my good friend and master, Matthew Addams. ~Captain~ Matthew Addams as was then, although he had no business calling himself so.This all took place in the spring of my thirteenth year, about four, maybe five years after ~Mister~ Matthew Addams bought me from my mother. I was the fourth of eleven boys and too sickly after a bad winter in the North Country to be of any help to the poor woman. It fair broke Ma's heart to do it, I know, but it turned out all right in the end. And, anyway, that's another story.
As a master, I couldn't have asked for better. He was a mysterious fellow, was Mister Addams, often quiet and sometimes he had the melancholy something fierce. But he always fed me the same as himself and never beat me. He taught me my letters and how to speak proper and I took care of him as best I could - cleaning his boots, reading to him when he was tired, trying not to burn our suppers, and caring for his horse when he had one. I loved him with all my heart and soul, you see, though I don't think he ever knew it. I'd have looked after him for all his life, even if he hadn't bought me fair and square.We traveled quite a lot, did my master and I. Sometimes we were well off and other times we had hardly a farthing. Sometimes we left a place almost before we got there. My master would just stride in and tell me "It's time to go now, Henry" in that enigmatical way of his and off we'd go, as often without our belongings as with them. It was a very exciting life, I can tell you.
So, as I say, it was April in the year fifteen hundred and ninety-three. Mister Addams and I had only just arrived in London. Our purse was heavy and we'd been enjoying excellent lodgings and food cooked by someone who never seemed to burn anything. We joked that this was the life and wouldn't it be fine to grow fat and lazy, staying here in this fine house for years and years. My master laughed with merriment and gave me extra wine and I can't remember a better night. I thought we'd come home at last.
You can imagine my surprise when he woke me while it was still black dark out and said to pack our things. Two hours later, I found myself boarding a big ship called The Sea Queen and my master whispering I was to call him ~Captain~ from now on. Not master. Captain Matthew Addams.
I'd have called him the Duchess of York if he'd asked. It was all the same to me.
"But sir," I warned him. "I've never been on a ship before."
"I have," he told me. "Don't worry, lad. There's nothing to it." It was peculiar that he should say that. I was soon to find out that Matthew Addams was the worst sailor as ever was. The poor man couldn't keep down two meals in three the whole time we were at sea.
"I've used our last ha'penny to buy our way onto this ship," he said, smiling that handsome and ironical smile he had. "So we've got to make a good show of it, Henry."
"Master?"
He quirked one of his dark brows in a way that made my innards go all shivery.
"What do you mean a good show, ~Captain~?"
"It means that yesterday you weren't a Captain's steward and today you are."
That was just my master's way of telling me that he'd never had the charge of a ship before and didn't know the first thing about it. He trusted me to help him keep the secret from the passengers and crew. Quiet as he was, it was just like him to go and do something crazy like that.
By first daylight, the Captain had finished reading to me from a thick book about 'fore' and 'aft' and 'starboard' and 'port' and 'mainsails' and all. And we'd met with Dogsbody, the First Mate. Dogsbody was a very thickset fellow with a scruffy toffee-colored beard and a hearty enough manner. He'd seen The Sea Queen through two captains already and knew her through and through. I was ever so glad of that, I can tell you.
A little time after the First Mate went off to give the crew some orders about shipping out or loading the cargo or some such, Captain Addams stopped looking so queasy and whipped his head around as if he suddenly smelled something just awful.
"I purchased this bloody commission to bloody avoid the bloody Gathering," he growled. "And if it's bloody planning to bloody follow me aboard, it has got another bloody thought coming! Wait here, Henry." I didn't understand what he meant, but I was used to that.
He did give me an idea about something else though.
He hurried out of his cabin and onto the deck. Being a naturally curious fellow, I counted to ten and followed as closely as I dared. The Captain, when I found him, was leaning casual-like against the rail. He had narrowed his eyes like he sometimes does and was watching a pair of rich looking passengers come aboard with a cartload of baggage.
The man was old, maybe fifty or sixty, with hair the color of ashes and a beard to match. He was barrel chested and had one of those gruff but kindly faces you sometimes see on old men. The woman was young enough to be his daughter, but you could tell by the way he looked at her and kept touching her arm or hand that she was no such thing. She was small and a might too thin, but a beauty with milk white skin and coal black hair. They both looked to be very excited, but I couldn't see anything about them that should make my master stare at them so.
"You're not one of us yet, are you, old boy?" he said; though he was too far away for the man to hear.
Then, never taking his eyes off the rich folk, he said, "I thought I told you to stay in my cabin." Before I could think of a likely answer, he said, "Be a good lad and go find out who those people are, Henry."
The Captain was standing in the same place when I returned with the news and something had happened to put him in a fine rage. "Well?" he said with his voice gone all grit and gravel.
"The gentleman is James MacLeod. He's a clan Chieftain and half-owner of The Glencampbell Company. That's a company that imports spices and breeds horses and makes Scotch Whiskey," I said as fast as I could. "The young lady is his new wife. She's called Brianna. I couldn't find out anything else about her, but..." "I see." There was more to tell, but without a bit of warning, Captain Addams made for the gangway, his thigh-high black leather boots thudding angry-like on the deck and scowling something terrible he was.
"What is this, a bleeding convocation?"
"This is…" the nearby crewman began.
"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," the passenger standing alone on the gangway said and very gallantly too.
"What, does it run in the family?" the Captain snarled.
"I am afraid I dinna take your meaning, sir."
"You dinna…. Oh!" my master gasped. He had stopped fussing long enough to take a good look at Duncan MacLeod.
Truth to tell, I was taken aback myself. Matthew Addams was as handsome as any man could expect to be, in my opinion. But this tall young gentleman had a beauty that was beyond anything I'd ever known - and I was a well-traveled fellow by this time - honest and true. I tell you this, if it were possible for a face to be both dark and fair, then surely here was where the two opposites met and were reconciled in a manner most heavenly.
"Matthew Addams, Captain of the Sea Queen," my master said with a sweeping bow. Now his voice was all velvet again. "Have you come for me, sir?"
"I've come to take a voyage to the West Indies, Captain," Mister MacLeod responded with a small nod of his splendid head. "As, I dare say, has everyone else aboard."
The Captain slitted his eyes again, but he moved aside to let the other man pass. "Another who has not yet crossed over," he muttered to himself. "Like the other, but stronger. Much stronger."
The crewman made a little cough.
"Yes? What is it, man? Speak up!" Captain Addams barked.
The gallant gentleman, only a few steps away, turned back with a laugh and said, "I believe what the crewman wishes to tell you is this ship is owned by The Glencampbell Company. I am, Sir," he said with a twinkle in his delighted and delightful eyes, "your employer." Mister MacLeod removed his large feathered hat and gave a perfect imitation of my master's bow.
"Run along now, Henry," my master said in the low voice that meant he was thinking hard and fast. "See to Mister MacLeod's belongings and show the good man to his quarters."
The last two passengers were late in coming. Another married couple by the look of them, but these two were foreigners. I watched the Captain carefully as they passed by. He introduced himself, very gentleman-like, and I never saw him squint his eyes up at them. Not once.
When we finally set sail, my master gave me a few small jobs to do and went right away to his cabin, his face gone all pale and his mouth clamped tight shut. A very bad sailor was Captain Matthew Addams.
In case you didn't know, the first night at sea, the Captain is supposed to have dinner with the most important passengers. We only had five passengers aboard, so I was told to invite them all to my master's quarters for a small party.
The foreign couple seemed happy enough to be asked. Madame Theriault pinched my cheek and gave me a coin. Mister MacLeod, the senior, was alone in his cabin and told me all right he and his wife would come, but he was a true Scot and kept his coins to himself.
I longed to look upon Mister MacLeod, the younger, again. It hardly seemed possible that he could have so fine a face and bearing. I wanted to take my time and see him without him seeing me, so I saved my visit to his quarters for last of all.
He sighed and lay himself out on his long bunk. I could see the man plain as day through the keyhole. He moved his lips, though what he was saying I could not hear. Then he absentminded-like began to unlace his breeches. "Henry," I told myself. "You shouldn't be kneeling here, looking at this man all unawares." I stopped myself at once and put my ear to the keyhole instead.
"Oh Brianna," he murmured. "Oh my dear beautiful Brianna."
That could not be right. Brianna was the bride of the older MacLeod, not this rare beauty. Surely I had heard Dogsbody aright. I pulled a frown and, much as I disliked doing it, I put my eye back to the keyhole.
Duncan MacLeod had peeled his breeches down over his hips by now and he was abusing himself so vigorously I could hear the poor man moaning right through the heavy planking.
Naturally, I couldn't see my way to letting that go on. I had to do something. He was a young man. He would need the use of his pretty molasses colored eyes. I jumped straight up and rapped on the door, hard as I could.
"Just a moment!" the man gasped. "Yes? Who is there?"
"Captain's steward, sir!"
"Henry, isn't it?" he said as he opened the door.
Bless me, when he looked right in my eyes like that I couldn't remember what it was I meant to say.
Mister MacLeod waited politely. "Yes, Henry?"
"Oh, forgive me sir," I blurted. I ducked my head and found myself with my eyes stuck staring directly at the bulge in his breeches. My face and the back of my neck began to prickle. I'd never seen one anything like that big, and that's a fact. "Is this a bad time? Should I come back later, sir?"
"Not at all, not at all. As a matter of fact I could use some help."
"Oh, I see, sir." I said. The prickle on my neck started to burn hot. What a turn of luck! "I've never… I mean I always thought I'd like to … Of course, I've watched… What I mean to say is I'd be happy to be of service."
I couldn't believe this happy circumstance. My first time and with such a one as this! Something about this man disturbed my master, but all thoughts of that flew right out of my head as I began to unlace my own breeches. Prayed good and hard, I did, that I should make no terrible mistakes. "What are you doing, lad?"
"Oh!" I said, confused. "I thought you wanted… Would you prefer the cabin b…"
"Lord no!" Duncan MacLeod said all flustered-like. "Do those laces back up immediately!"
"Very well, sir. Another time, perhaps."
He chose that very moment to swallow down the wrong pipe and the poor man went all red and spent the next little while coughing and sputtering. It was a pitiful thing to see.
"Is there some purpose to your visit, Henry?" he wheezed while I whacked him a few good ones on the back.
"Oh yes, sir. My master asked me to invite you to his cabin for the evening meal, sir."
"Thank you, Henry, I believe I've quite stopped choking now." Mister MacLeod pulled the whitest handkerchief I'd ever seen out of his pocket and wiped away his tears. "All right, please tell the Captain that I'd be honored to join him for dinner tonight." He handed me a coin. "How long, Henry?"
"A full seven inches, sir."
"I beg your pardon?"
I felt a right fool, didn't I? "About five hours until the evening meal, I'd say."
"All right. You'll come back when the time comes?"
"Of course, sir, if you like."
"Yes, Henry, I do like."
"Very good, sir."
"But Henry…"
"Yes, Mr. MacLeod?"
"After you help me secure some of these boxes, I will not be requiring any other services. At all."
"Stop your pewling, you barnacle-encrusted clotpole! Of all the pus-riddled, numb-witted notions! Does your mother know she gave birth to a buggering, crack-brained toad-fart?"
Matthew Addams stood on the deck just outside his personal quarters. "This is very colorful, Henry. They don't really talk like this, do they?" We'd been working for the past two hours and my master looked staggering tired. He leaned hard against the rail and let fly another volley at the sea.
"God's wounds and willy! Really lad, that one might go beyond the pale, even for a sailor," he told me while he swiped at his face with a damp cloth.
"Go on," I urged him.
"Let's see. You're nothing more than a gorebellied, lard-headed - um, flea-bitten…"
I looked down at my notes. "'Cur', sir?"
"Just so, lad. 'Cur' it is," my master said, his voice rasping with pain.
"Or 'varlot', or - or 'maggot'…" I suggested helpfully.
"Very good, Henry. I'm content with cur, for the present. That's all for now. Sadly, we're expecting guests and, much as I dread the thought of it, we can't postpone the dinner party any longer. Everything's been ready for the past half-hour. Go on now and bring the company. I'll see to the wine and…." My poor Captain interrupted his orders with another hurl at the ocean.
I handed him a clean cloth and a jug of cool water. "And change your doublet, Captain?"
He looked down at his vomit-spattered chest in disgust. The wine-colored velvet doublet was his best and favorite.
"Oh sod all!"
A very quick learner was my master.
I escorted the grand young Mr. MacLeod into my master's cabin. Resplendent he was in a doublet of dark blues and greens. His long curling dark hair was tied back in a clasp of silver and his powerful legs were sheathed up to the knee in a pair of the softest looking brown boots. I must tell you, he fair took my breath away. And I don't think I was the only one.
"Father!" he squeaked like a stripling as I showed him to the table. "And Brianna," he whispered the way you do when you've go a bad headcold. "What are you doing here?"
I quick looked to see my master's expression. It gave away as little as ever, excepting there was more than a little mischief in those hazel eyes of his. Something was up and, sure as you're born, he was glad of it. Took his mind off the seasickness, didn't it?
The raven-haired woman clapped her hands together, delighted as you please. "We're your surprise, Duncan!"
Up close I could see her eyes were enormous and dark. Dark as blueberries, they were. She was pretty enough, but I could tell my master didn't take to her at all. That was good enough for me. I decided to watch her real close-like.
James MacLeod, the father, rose up slowly and with great dignity as befitted such a fine man. You could tell by the way that he clasped his son's hand that he was bursting with pride and happiness. "When I told Brianna of your sudden intention to spend a year in Jamaica overseeing the spice imports," he said. "She saw my distress and insisted that we accompany you on your voyage."
"'It's my wedding trip," Brianna told the Captain. The look on Duncan MacLeod's face put me more in mind of an ambush. I don't think his dad noticed, but I didn't even have to look at my master to know that ~he~ had.
Captain Addams didn't bother himself to reply, but raised his black eyebrow and nodded at the lady. I don't know what happened next, as I had to go and fetch the foreigners who were last of the dinner guests.
Monsieur Theriault, a heavy-set and jovial sort, was a spice grower and kept a large plantation in Jamaica. Madame was a handsome woman with a French accent so thick, I could hardly understand anything she said for three full days, at least. She took on the job of hostess for this party and drew out each guest one at a time with what I thought to be questions and the usual light-hearted nonsense and flattery. She laughed easy-like and gave the dinner a real festive air. She was a lady, great and true, was our Madame.
For my master's sake, even more than my own, I was glad of Missus Terry's friendly ways. He was suffering something dreadful though he wouldn't show it. He never touched a morsel of the excellent food and wine the whole night long. That left more for my supper, but it pained me to see him so, so it did.
And the dashing Mister Duncan MacLeod hardly ever took his eyes off his pretty young stepmother. "There's dangerous waters ahead for these two beauties," I told myself.
During the first two weeks of the trip, we fell into our own patterns of daily life. I did what I could to serve Captain Addams, but he was often busy and I was left to my own devices, wasn't I?
He spent a lot of his time mastering his cursing and his crew, did the Captain. He studied charts and old log books in great detail and was able to keep more and more food down as time went by. He joked and swore and drank with the men when he could; and it was plain to see that they liked and respected him. I never doubted they'd accept him as a true ship's captain and they did, sure enough.
The two older gentlemen passengers hit it off right from the start. The must've had a lot in common, both being in the spice business and so old and all. When they weren't at table or taking their long catnaps, they were playing at cards or telling dull stories that nobody else could listen to without their eyes clouding over.
At first, the other Mister MacLeod stayed in his cabin all the time, not bothering to answer when Brianna would come and knock ever so softly on his door. She would call and croon to him, but I never heard him say anything back. Never once did I hear her talk that way to her husband. But later, he, Duncan MacLeod, I mean, he would come out on deck early in the morning to take the air. I often caught sight of him as I emptied our chamber pots. In the afternoons when the others retired to their quarters between tea and suppertime, he and Madame would sit together and read or talk like old friends.
I said I decided to keep a close eye on Brianna MacLeod and so I did. When she was alone in her private rooms, she spent a lot of time tending to herself - brushing out her hair and pinning it all back up again and the like. Most times she tried on her clothes and jewelry and admired herself in the glass. Sometimes she frowned and talked to herself like a nutter. Other times she stomped the floor and threw things about the cabin.
There was a treasure that she kept hidden at the bottom of her jewelry box. It was a small blue bottle filled with white powder. She took it out and looked at it least once every single day. I tried to sneak in to get a closer look at it when she wasn't there, but the cabin door was always kept locked.
At the end of the third week, problems arose for my master and me. I was on my way back to the Captain's cabin with some interesting tales to tell when I saw young Duncan MacLeod standing in the shadowy alcove and listening at the Captain's door. He didn't see me so I stayed just out of his sight and waited. Rumors of Dogsbody's mutiny would just have to be told later.
"You scurvy knave!" the deep angry voice of my master bellowed loud enough to be heard through the heavy door. "Slackjawed …slackjawed … Damnation! Why can't I…"The voice trailed off and Mister MacLeod moved closer to the portal. "Great Gaea," we both heard from inside. "This is most ludicrous exercise… Ah-hah! Slackjawed scabby-arsed oaf! - Yes, I like that one. - Imbecilic landlubber! Bugger that! The Devil, you say!"
My master was nothing if not determined.
"A man with such scruples stooping to listen at keyholes!" The voice was soft, sweet, and so close to his ear that Mister MacLeod nearly yelped with surprise.
"Brianna!"
She took the gentleman's arm and led him away from the door until they were standing almost on top of me. I was hiding behind a huge barrel and was safe enough, wasn't I? And anyway, they saw nothing but each other.
Brianna wore a cloak of white velvet and the kind of smile she should have been saving for her bridegroom. Even in the early morning dim, she was a breathtaking sight, to be sure. Her eyes were the color of the just lightening sky and when she threw back her hood, her midnight hair tumbled down her back and across her shoulders. I had seen her do this in her mirror many times.
Ever so slowly, her hands slipped beneath the young Mister's dark gray cloak and came to rest on his breast. Brianna MacLeod smiled a secret smile. That special look and a few others, she practiced over and over and over again.
"What are you doing here?" he gasped. Mister MacLeod tried to step back, but only managed to knock into my barrel.
"No, please," Brianna pleaded in her pretty voice. "Please don't move away. My hands are so cold and you have so much warmth to spare. You are warm, aren't you, Duncan?" When she said his name, all teasing-like, he leaned closer to her and covered her tiny white hands with his own big brown ones.
"You've been avoiding us. I thought you'd be more pleased to have us join you on this voyage, Duncan," she chided, making sure to say his name just that way once again.
"I'm always happy to be with family," he said cautious-like. "But even so, my father knew I was eager to make my own way. And I know how he dislikes being away from his London offices. I wonder at his decision to accompany me."
"It was my decision, Duncan." Brianna raised up on her toes, reaching her face up to his. "As you well know," she breathed against his lips.
"We will not have this discussion again, Brianna," he said.
"Duncan, oh Duncan, I love you so," she cried out. "Let me come to you tonight, my dearest. I can hardly wait to be with you, to lie with you." "Brianna, don't do this."
"But how can you let me continue on with your father, when you know I don't love him? If only I had met you before I married him!"
As if the poor fellow was forcing her to stay married to a rich old man, can you credit it?
"There's nothing I can do, Brianna. You made a vow. You must keep it."
She slid her thin arms outside his cloak and 'round his strong back, I suppose her hands must have suddenly warmed up pretty well.
"But how can I?" She pressed all her softnesses dangerously close to his poor distressed hardnesses. "I didn't even know what love was until I knew you. It's not right to ask me to stay with a man I can't love!"
"Is it right to ask me to betray my own father with his new bride?" He got the words right, but this time, didn't try to move away from her hold on him. He drank her in like she was sweet wine and he was dying of thirst. Teetering on the edge of disaster, he was.
"But…I love you, Duncan," she said again, as if this would somehow remedy or excuse such treachery. "Don't you love me - just a little?"
He closed his wondrous eyes and didn't answer.
"Very well, dearest," she murmured. "I won't leave your father, if you don't wish me to. I'll stay with him, for your sake."
You could see Mister MacLeod's whole strong, straight body sag when she said that. Whether it was with relief or disappointment, I'm sure I couldn't say.
"But," Brianna continued, looking at him with her sparkling blue eyes. "We can still be together sometimes, can't we?"
"Of course we can. You're my father's wife. We are kin, Brianna. We'll see each other often during the rest of the voyage and after I return from my time in the Indies."
"I didn't say see each other, Duncan." She put her little hands back under his cloak, but much lower this time. "I said be together." Again, the sad, sweet man closed his eyes. "You know you want me," she said softly.
"No," he said and his voice came out all thick and heavy. "I won't. I can't. You mustn't tempt me. It would be wrong, don't you see?"
The lady made as if to weep tears only a besotted fool would believe. "How could it be wrong if we love each other? All I can see is you, Duncan MacLeod. You're the only man I'll ever love. You'll be in Jamaica soon enough and I'll be on my way back to England. James is content. There's no reason for him to ever know about us. Please, Duncan. Don't make me beg you to take me to your bed!"
She had practiced long and well to play this part. Hadn't I watched her often enough? In this way and only this way, she reminded me of my beloved master. Mister MacLeod bent his head, once again to hers. I was afraid she would be too much for him to withstand.
And there was I, stuck in my hiding place and no way to help him this time. He might have kissed her if Dogsbody hadn't chosen that moment to come round the corner, bless his treachery-filled heart. When he saw them, he turned and went back the way he came. Our First Mate wasn't one to look at any goings on that might only get him in trouble with owners of The Sea Queen and, anyway, didn't concern him. "No and no!" the young gentleman exclaimed as he shoved Brianna away from him rough-like. "What will you do me? What will you have me do?"
"I'll love you and have you love me, Duncan. That's all. Nothing less is tolerable."
"You're wrong, Mother." She looked as if he'd struck her when he called her that. "I never said I loved you. And rest assured, I never will. I cannot and will not betray my father. Not even for you."
Her white skin turned a very dark pink. "Don't refuse me too long, Duncan."
He didn't watch her run away. I prayed for him to hurry and move along so I could follow the lady back to her cabin, but he did no such thing.
"There's nothing quite so tantalizing as forbidden fruit, is there?" said a deep voice that startled us both.
Mister MacLeod spun 'round to see the tall striking figure of my master leaning casual-like against the door to his cabin. He had a funny, almost ugly smile on his sharp and handsome face.
"A gentleman would have spoken up sooner, Captain," Duncan MacLeod sputtered.
"My apologies, sir", the captain said, his voice all honey. "I found myself trapped between my cabin and your intimate encounter. There was nothing I could do, but to remain quietly by and avoid embarrassing the lady." He raised up his eyebrow again. "And, by the by, I'm not a gentleman, I'm a humble sea captain."
Humble indeed. And they snide way he said 'lady', well, it made me wonder what he was about.
"It was a private conversation, Addams. It all came to nothing, as you no doubt overheard. This conversation would only cause my father much pain if it were repeated to him."
My master closed his eyes half-way and waited.
"Can I trust your discretion, Captain? Or will you require an some incentive to hold your tongue?"
Matthew Addams stepped out of the shadows and closer to the young Scottish gentleman. "What kind of incentive do you mean, Sir?"
You won't believe it, but he didn't sound angry at all, and after such an insult as that! His voice sounded just like it had when he used to tease me.
"If you must be bought," Duncan MacLeod said with disgust. "I suppose gold will do."
My master took one hasty step back. "Oh no, sir, you mistake me." He laughed his harshest laugh. "If gold is all you plan to offer, you may keep it. Your gold would mean less to me than you can possibly imagine."
What could he be thinking to say something like that? The only money we had in the world were the small coins I sometimes got from Mrs. Terry and Duncan MacLeod, himself.
"What did you have in mind?" Duncan asked with growing agitation.
Matthew Addams stepped in once more until the two men's faces were only a breath apart. "There is something of very great value that you could offer me, young MacLeod, if only you would. Two things, really, but I'm only interested in one of them for now. I won't try to force you. I won't even ask you for what I want. It would lose too much of its value if it weren't offered willingly." He sighed and shook his fine head. "For my silence, Sir, I'll take nothing at all. You may have it. You have had it all along."
"I'm in your debt, Captain." Duncan bowed deeply and hastened away.
"You can come out now, Henry," my master said after a moment.
He never would tell me how he always knew when I was about.
"I'm on my way to inspect the crew." He put his arm around my neck and tugged my ear in that friendly way of his. "Care to come along?"
It was another hour before I could get back to Missus MacLeod's keyhole. I thought she might be having one of her little fits of temper, but, for the very first time, mind you, she wasn't alone in there.
Her husband, Mister James MacLeod, was looking about the place, trying to find a place to sit down among all the dresses that were scattered about.
"Darling," she was saying. "Is anything the matter?"
"That's just what I wanted to ask you, my dear." He went to the nearest chair, pushed aside a bright blood red dress and sat down.
She picked up a huge hat covered with ribbons and feathers and all and perched on the edge of her bed.
"Whatever can you mean, James?" she asked, all innocence. "What could be the matter with me?"
"You've complained of headache and nausea so often lately, I've begun to worry that you might be truly ill."
"Oh no, dearest." If only he could know that she had just called his son by that same pet name. What might he do? "I'm sure I'm perfectly all right."
All of a sudden, Mister MacLeod's face stopped looking so worried. "Do you suppose the trouble would be…." The man looked embarrassed and shy - and with his own wife, mind you. He cleared his throat. "Oh hang it, Brianna, do you suppose you could be with child?"
"Oh no," she said instantly. "I'm sure it's just a touch of seasickness."
"I see." Her husband's disappointment showed all over his grizzled old face.
Brianna must have seen it, same as me, because she changed her tune pretty quick. "At least I don't think I'm pregnant, James. "It might only be too soon to tell."
With all the trouble she was having with the son, Missus MacLeod really knew what she was doing with the father. She played him just like a fiddle.
"Yes," he said all excited and happy again. It made me tired just to watch him, didn't it? "Perhaps it's only that. Only too soon to tell." I felt truly sorry for the old gent. You couldn't wish a wife like her on your worst enemy. "You know how much I want another child, my dear. I'm afraid I'm too eager and impatient."
"I'm just as impatient as you are, darling. I long for a baby." She smiled that lovey smile again. "Your baby."
"And yet you never come to my bed."
"Oh James! I didn't know you were waiting for me to come to you! I've been waiting for you to come to me!" Now that was a bald faced lie. I tell you plain, if the man had come to her bed, there were many a night he'd have found it empty. "From now on, I'll know better and come to you whenever I feel well enough." Whenever she wasn't busy somewhere else was what she meant to say.
Brianna MacLeod got up from the bed and went to kneel like a servant at her husband's feet. She put those pretty hands on him - in about the same place she had just been feeling on her stepson an hour since.
"I'm feeling very well now, my love." Her sickly-sweet voice was almost enough to make me puke, but she convinced him, right enough.
I watched the man take her in his arms and kiss her. I kept watching while they undressed each other, kissing all the while, but after they got under the bed covers, there was nothing left to see, so I went away again.
Late in the afternoon, two or three days later, my master sent me to find the younger Mister MacLeod and give him a message. When I found him, he was having one of his little talks with Madame up on deck.
"I do not know why I trouble to lend you my favorite books, Duncan, when you only sit there and pretend to read them," Madame Theriault complained. "Something is disturbing you, cheri?"
It was the custom of these two to sit together on the foreword deck while the others were taking their usual catnaps between the afternoon and evening meals. I was as interested as anybody would be to hear his answer, so I hid myself close by and waited.
"Of course, you may not wish to tell your troubles to an interfering old lady," she said with her kind motherly smile. "But it is plain to see that something is giving you pain."
"You're hardly an interfering old lady, Mrs. Terry," the grand young man said. "And well you know it."
"I will not ask what is wrong, cheri. I only ask if I can help."
"You do help me, Madame," he said and now he was smiling too. "Your kindness and your company are a great help to me."
"I am a great distraction to you, Duncan. That is not the same thing." She took the book out of his strong hands and replaced it with both of her chubby ones. "Perhaps it is best to be plain spoken, my friend."
"I dinna take your meaning, Mrs. Terry."
"It is that woman who so disquiets your heart. I am able to observe this from the first day we meet."
"'No. That's not true." He was a poor liar, was young Mister MacLeod.
"Do not even attempt to deny this," Madame said just like every mother who ever lived. "Even my own dear Monsieur Theriault, who sees only commerce, is able to see this. How long do you think it will be before your own father can see it? If he does not see it already?"
"Already?" he said, looking frightened.
"Now that I have told you what I know, I fear I must tell you what I think. I am French, I refuse to play the silly polite games of the English."
"I am a Scot, Mrs. Terry."
"Ce ne fait rien," she said with a little shake of her head. "I think perhaps James does not yet see that Madame MacLeod is trying to force you choose between him and his pretty little wife, but one day he will see you look at her and he will know."
"But what can I do? I tried to get away from them…"
"And she followed you here to this ship?"
"Yes."
"Well, cheri, I think you must ask yourself how much you can love a woman who asks you to give up your father's love for her own. I think you must ask yourself how much she can truly love you."
"She does love me!"
"Very well, mon pouvre petit. I am sure you know better than I. Bien entendu. You must follow your own mind and heart."
"Your pardon, Madame," I said, coming forward. "Mr. MacLeod. I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation."
"Yes, Henry?"
"Mr. MacLeod, Captain Addams would like a moment of your time, sir."
"Very well, Henry. He knows where he can find me."
"Yes, sir. Only…sir?"
"Yes, Henry?" "Only he asked me to send you to him, sir."
"Fine then, Henry. Tell me where I might find him."
"He's in his cabin, Mister MacLeod." Oh and didn't I wish I could call him by his name? But that wasn't something I could do though, was it? It wouldn't do to get above myself.
"All right, Henry, go tell your Captain Addams I'll be there soon."
"I'm supposed to wait and bring you, sir."
Then Mister MacLeod laughed. I didn't think I was doing anything that was so amusing, just delivering a message, as was my job. But, oh, how his eyes lit up when he laughed. It was quite the sight, I may tell you.
"Go along, Duncan," Madame told him. "It is a pity that you will miss our sunset, cheri, but by all means, go and see what is so important to Monsieur le Captaine."
"It's a very great pity, Mrs. Terry." He bowed to the lady and followed me back to my master's quarters.
When I stepped into the Captain's quarters, I saw right off that he had three of his little black cheroots going - all in different parts of the room - and he was holding a fourth in his hand. You could've knocked me down with a whistle; I was that surprised. It made me wonder what was coming. I knew the reason for this meeting, of course, but couldn't see the why he should be so all-fired agitated. Matthew Addams was not one to ever let his nerves show, but they were showing now all right, they surely were. I can't say I understood or liked it. Not one little bit.
"I believe you sent for me, Captain?" Mister MacLeod said, his voice sounding all cool and superior and nothing like his usual self.
"I believe I requested the honor of your presence, sir," my master replied, just as coldly.
"Very well, Addams. I'm present."
I busied myself putting out all the little cigars as quietly as ever I could.
"May I offer you a drink, MacLeod? I have a very fine port and the lager's not too bad."
"You haven't got any Glencampbell Scotch Whiskey?"
"Forgive me, no. If I'd known you'd be aboard, I'd have…"
"You're carrying quite a large shipment of the stuff. Didn't you know?"
I took the opportunity of this unfriendly banter to slip into my little adjoining cabin without either of them noticing. The door to my room was hidden behind a red velvet curtain, so you can see how easy it was to settle myself down to watch ~them~ without them watching ~me~ watch them.
"Ah, of course," my master lied. "But the Scotch in the hold doesn't belong to me. That would be stealing."
"The Scotch in the hold ~does~ belong to me, though. We can bring up a case of it, if you like." "You're very generous, MacLeod. We'll send Henry after dinner tonight, if that suits you."
"Of course."
"In the meantime, I can still offer you port or the lager, or even grog, if you prefer."
"The port will do if it's not too sweet."
Captain Addams poured out two glasses of the deep purple wine and handed one to Mister MacLeod. They both sat down and drank. And stared hard at each other.
Still very nervy, my master bounded again to his feet and lighted another of his cheroots. He went to the sideboard to re-stopper the wine and to the bookshelf to replace one of his logs and then to a small table to straighten a figurine. He crossed to the porthole and drew back the heavy drape. I could see the orange sun hanging very low in the sky. It would be dark soon and I should be about my job of lighting the lamps, but I couldn't move from my hiding place just yet.
"I'm wondering, Captain."
"Yes?" "I'm wondering when you'll stop meandering around the room and tell me why you called me here."
My master went still as stone. What could be ailing him? Why wasn't he just showing Mister MacLeod what we'd found and sending him away again?
"Am I to presume that you've changed your mind about accepting a…a gift of thanks?"
"A bribe, you mean? Or blackmail?" The Captain Addams spat the words out as if they tasted bad in his mouth. "No, MacLeod. I've already told you, I don't want your gold."
"Then what…"
"On the contrary," he continued, "I hoped that you would change your own mind. A gift, most certainly. But not a gift of obligation."
"I dinna take your meaning, Addams."
"I thought you understood me all too well, but I can see now I was mistaken. Such a pity. And such a waste."
Duncan MacLeod finished his wine and rose to his feet. He had such a powerful air and way about him, did the young Highlander, and he didn't seem to take any notice of it at all. "Then, if there's nothing more, I must excuse myself. Madame Theriault and I are in the habit of watching the sun…"
"She does not love you, MacLeod," my master interrupted. It was plain the Captain regretted saying those words and who could blame him? "What did you say to me?" I saw the young man's hand move to the hilt of his heavy broadsword.
"I don't mean the venerable Madame, of course. I refer to the lovely Brianna."
Ah that was more like it. Somehow, my master had taken hold of himself. He was using his mocking tone of voice now. I've never enjoyed hearing that when it's aimed in my direction, but - well, this was getting more and more interesting all the time. "And I said," he went on the same way. "That she does not love you."
"What do you know about it?"
"What I know, MacLeod, is that your stepmother, for all her protestations of undying love for you, is merely a money hungry gypsy strumpet with a murderous bent."
Mister MacLeod's hand gripped his sword so hard his knuckles turned white so I went into my room and picked up a heavy candlestick and my little dagger. I wanted to be ready to protect my master, if need be. It would be a shame to kill the dashing young man, but for Matthew Addams, kill him I would. If need be.
"You're lying, you scandal-mongering blackguard! Foul-tongued, evil minded whoreson!" Mister MacLeod hissed.
"Why Duncan, you surprise me. You truly do," my master said with his ironical grin. "Would you mind if I took a moment to write those down? They are really very good." He reached across the table for his writing box, but stopped quick-like when he saw Mister MacLeod had drawn his sword.
"All right then, I'm sure I can just remember them until later on." And my master reached for his own sword instead.
Mister MacLeod kicked the table over and lunged at the Captain with real fury. "I'll kill you for these insults to my father's wife!" he cried furiously.
The two handsome and strong men fighting so hard and so well - it was a lovely sight to behold. It made my neck and ears and some other parts go all hot and tingly.
"You're exceptionally talented with your weapon, MacLeod," Captain Addams said. He was busy parrying, but so far he wasn't even breathing hard. I saw him allow Duncan MacLeod to cut him twice and then back him into a corner before he began to truly show the young gent what he, my master, I mean, could do with his blade. In four moves the Captain knocked the sword from Mister MacLeod's hand and drew blood from a small prick to the chest. Duncan MacLeod fell to his knees. "But you lack my experience," my master said softly into the other man's ear.
"I won't take your life," he said. "But I will finish saying what I know."
"And then?" the Highlander gasped.
"And then I shall torment you further by telling you what I guess."
"No! I won't hear any more of your insults to my father's honor." So saying Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod grasped the end of the Captain Matthew Addams' sword and thrust himself upon it, burying the heavy blade deep in his breast. Neither my Captain nor I ever expected him to do anything so foolish as that.
"By the Christian God's back teeth!" the Captain roared. "Save us all from the noble self-sacrificing Scots of the Earth!"
He removed his sword from the Highlander's body. This made young Duncan cry out in terrible pain. Blood spurted from the wound, and there was a lot of it, I can tell you.
"Oh bloody hell!" the Captain carried on. I thought it odd at the time, if you must know, that he should be so angry instead of worried or frightened. For myself, I was scared practically pissless. "If you must do the thing," he bellowed. "Why couldn't you do it properly?"
"For God's sake, Henry, find me some rags to bind this!" I ask you, how did he always know?
I tore up an old shirt and my master bound up the wound tight. Mercifully, Mister MacLeod had passed out and was making much less noise now - only groaning now and then.
We righted the large table and my master changed into a clean shirt while I wiped up the blood from the floor. I brought a cup of water and gave him a drink. He thanked me and went to kneel by his patient.
"Such a great heart should not wear such a beautiful face. It's almost too much to bear." I watched as he smoothed the black tangles back from the sleeping face, bent and stole a kiss from those other beautiful lips. One, twice three times, he went back for more.
I had never seen him behave so. Never. Ever.
My master lifted the young gentleman into his arms and carried him to the large bunk. As he did so, the wound broke open once again and poor Duncan awoke screaming. I helped to place him down gently, but nothing would make the man stop shrieking.
"Captain! Captain Addams!" a coarse voice shouted from the other side of the door. "Are you all right, sir? Do you need any 'elp?"
Matthew Addams snatched up a pillow and placed it over Mister MacLeod's face to stifle the noise. "Forgive me, Duncan, " he said quietly. Then he told the crewman that all was well and to carry on.
Mister MacLeod was writhing with the agony of his wound, now that he was awake again. He shuddered and screamed and it was an awful thing to see.
"I suppose if I sent you away, Henry, that you'd find a way to see everything that happens here."
"I suppose so, master."
"This wound is very likely a mortal one, you understand?"
"Yes, sir. You mean he's going to die from it."
"That's right, son. And even if he doesn't die from it, he'll be in pain for a long time and he may never fully recover."
"It's a great shame, isn't it master?"
"A very great shame, Henry."
We both looked at the wounded man in silence. A very great shame. I haven't cried very many times in my life, but I did then.
My master put his arms around me and tried to quiet me some. "Hush now, boy. It'll be all right. You'll see. Stop crying now. I'm going to make it all right."
"Are you, sir?"
"Yes, Henry. I'm going to show you something, but it's a very big secret. Do you understand? You mustn't ever tell anyone. My life will depend on it. All right?"
"All right, master."
"Henry, how many times must I tell you not to call me 'master'?
"I can't call you, 'Matthew', sir. It wouldn't be right. You bought me…"
"'Fair and square', yes, I know." He sighed. This was not the first time we'd had this little talk and I did not think it would be the last. I was wrong about that, though.
Captain Addams looked down at the pillow in his hands and shrugged. "Right, then," he said. "I'm sorry about this, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. It's likely this will trouble me far more than it will trouble you. And that's quite apart from what it might do to my dear innocent Henry."
He put the pillow back over Mister MacLeod's face then and pushed down as hard as he could for ever so long a time. The fine gentleman's poor wounded body stopped moving long before my master took the pillow away and said, "I fully expect to regret this."
I didn't know what to think, so I tried not to think about anything as hard as I could. Trusted my master in everything, I did, so I went out in search of a mop and bucket to finish cleaning the floor when he bid me.
More than an hour passed. The floor looked as good as new and I was sitting half-asleep in a chair, still not thinking with all my might. The Captain was at the table studying one of his chart books.
We heard the bed covers rustle and the young Scot sat up with a wince and a terrible groan. "What's happened here?"
"I believe we should have a little talk about that," my master said.
"When the time comes, my child," the letter said. "You must not hesitate. Be sure and use it as I have taught you. Too little of the powder will cause unnecessary agony and may not even kill him. Use too much and he could sick it all back up. Then he would surely live and likely come to suspect you. "Above all, Brie, you must wait until the time is right. The plan will unfold at its own pace. You must not hurry it. You will have the MacLeod name and fortune. And we shall have our revenge. "Do as I have told you and all will be well for you, my daughter. My white skinned beauty. All is for you."
Mister MacLeod put down the letter. He looked disgusted through and through. "You found this in her room?"
"I gave Henry a key to her cabin and he found it," my master said. "He also found this." From his pocket, my master drew the small blue bottle. It was empty.
"She's already poisoned him!" Duncan shouted, coming quickly to his feet.
"More than once, very likely."
"But…"
Matthew Addams poured out two glasses from the bottle of Glencampbell Scotch Whiskey I'd brought up from the cargo hold. He handed one to the young Highlander and kept the other for himself. I wasn't allowed whiskey yet, more's the pity, but I was happy enough to make myself small in a corner chair and sip at my small glass of port. There was much more to be seen this night, if only I could stay awake.
"Your father," my master said patiently. Patient enough, though who knew better than I that he did not love to repeat himself? "Is Immortal, just as you are. Just as I am. Brianna's poison cannot do him any permanent damage."
Duncan MacLeod put his hand to his chest where his wound had been. He sighed and sat down again. "You said Brianna was a gypsy harlot," he said.
"Henry, that's quite enough wine." I put the bottle back on the table and went back to my chair. "Strumpet."
"Captain?"
"I called her a gypsy strumpet."
"Yes. And you said she was money hungry and had a murderous bent."
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such bad news."
"I can see by this letter that it must all be true. You could have forged the letter, but why should you? How could it benefit you?"
My master could have found a way for almost any circumstance to benefit us, but I kept my peace.
"It wouldn't surprise me to find you aren't a terribly trustworthy sort," the Highlander went on. "But since I have to believe you about this Immortality…well, why not about Brianna?"
"Why not indeed?" my master said, his face all mysterious and smiling again. "I can almost pity Brianna in her choice of husband."
"Pity! Her?"
"She couldn't possibly have chosen a worse subject for her plan. She was told that she needed to bear a son before she could kill her husband. I'm sure she tried vigorously to get herself with his child before she turned to you. How could she know that he couldn't give her what she wanted? It's almost sad."
"But…"
"Yes?"
"My father can have children."
"No, he can't."
"He had me."
"No. He didn't. He couldn't."
"Could not?"
"No Immortal can sire or bear a child. It's impossible."
"I am adopted?" Mister MacLeod's face flushed with anger.
"As was your father, I should think."
"The hell you say!"
"Sit down and finish your drink, MacLeod. Stop interrupting or we'll be here all night."
"We're…"
"In the beginning," the Captain told us. "Brianna's plan, or, more correctly, her mother's plan was a simple one. Marry James MacLeod and murder Duncan, James' son and heir. Next she was supposed to bear a child, another son, preferably. This would secure her position in the MacLeod family. Afterward, it would be easy enough to see to the accidental death of her poor husband."
"But that's not what happened at all. Brianna didn't murder me, you did."
"You murdered yourself, MacLeod. I simply put you out of your misery."
"But…"
"Never mind that now. May I continue?"
"Something happened to make her decide to alter her scheme. When she found she could not get with James' child, she set her sites on you, my friend. One MacLeod's baby would do as well as another's. When you refused her, she must have decided to hurry things along. Perhaps she thought you would be more willing if your father was out of the way. Perhaps she just got tired of waiting."
"Addams, I can understand that Henry took a liking to Brianna's and began to spy on her."
Liking! I ask you!
"I can understand that you agreed to allow him to search her rooms when he became suspicious of her behavior because you trust his judgement. What I cannot understand is how you know so much about this plot. The letter speaks of revenge and the poison, but it doesn't say anything about a baby or who she is to murder."
"I'll tell you how I know, but first, give me your sword."
"I won't!"
"I'll not say another word, until I have your sword in my hand."
It was plain Mister MacLeod didn't like the idea. But it was just as plain, mind you, that he didn't like his ignorance even more. He drew his sword and handed it over.
"I know the details of her plan, Duncan, because she revealed them to me last night. Here in this cabin - as we lay together in that bunk."
The Highlander jumped out of his chair in a fury. He reached for his sword, but when he found the scabbard empty, he drove his fist into my master's excellent nose with all his strength. Made a very loud crunch, it did.
"Sit down, Henry," my master said without looking up. "I'll be all right in a moment."
I sat down, but I didn't like to.
Mister MacLeod reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean handkerchief. He handed it to the Captain.
"You're too kind."
"Think nothing of it."
My master dabbed at his hurt and continued to tell us the tale.
"As I was saying. When Brianna was unable to seduce you, she desperately concluded that anyone's baby would do. She began looking for less honorable companions."
"Including yourself."
"Among others. I don't suppose you would believe that I merely suffered her for your sake?"
"Certainly not."
My master shook his head, very disappointed. "I thought not. Henry took the opportunity of her visit here to search her quarters. You can see the irony, can't you?"
"That of the three men she chose, none of us could give her the child she needed?" Mister MacLeod said, oh so sourly. "Yes, I see it. But go on. What did the MacLeod's ever do to her family to deserve this?"
"She didn't tell me why. She may not know herself. Since it is her mother's plan, perhaps it's her mother's vengeance. Something between your grandfather and Brianna's mother, perhaps? Or it could be a very old family quarrel - generations old. Even Brianna's mother may not know why the MacLeod's were chosen."
"That's not a very satisfying answer, Addams."
"Why don't you ask ~her~ for a better one?"
"You can be sure of that. I'll get the truth from her before…"
"Before what? Before you kill her? Good God, man! Whatever for?"
"What for? We must stop her, Matthew. The woman is pure evil!" Mister MacLeod leaped up from his chair; his face all twisted with fury.
"I think, Duncan, you'll find much more evil in the world than a greedy wife - if you survive the Gathering."
"But she could be trying to kill my father in his sleep even now!"
My master laughed his hearty ringing laugh. "I've already told you, there's very little she can do to really hurt him. She's already tried."
I heard a distant clap of thunder and went to the door to look out at the evening sky. If we were to have a storm, my master would be in for an evening of terrible torment. "Very little, but still something."
"Yes, still something. She could kill him most thoroughly if she cut off his head."
The sound of thunder was nearer now, but I tell you this, there was no sign of rain. The sky was as clear as clear can be.
"And really, Duncan, what's the likelihood of that?"
My master dragged the dead body of Duncan MacLeod onto the beach of the deserted little island and looked about him with great satisfaction. It was a perfect little jewel of a place. An island paradise, like the ones you read about in books.
He looked around further inland and found fruit trees and fresh water. If he was patient enough to be lucky, there would also be fish to eat. The sea surrounded them and there was not another soul around for hundreds of miles.
Mister MacLeod awoke not too long after they were washed ashore. He must have been too stunned to notice the other set of footprints in the sand. Or perhaps he was just too sorrowed to care. He stood facing the sea and wept the bitter tears of a life lost forever.
"It's the destiny of every Immortal, Duncan," my master's dear velvet voice from behind him said. "We are bound to lose every mortal thing we know and love, if we live long enough. I'm sorry that you had to learn this lesson so early in your life. Perhaps it's a blessing."
"A blessing!" Duncan swung 'round to see the damp dark and slender figure standing so close by. "I did not ask for this Immortality!"
"Nor I, my friend. Perhaps not now, but one day soon, you'll be glad you're not rotting at the bottom of the sea with your father and my sweet Henry."
I didn't like to hear that and neither did the Highlander for he dropped heavy-like to the sand. "Stop it!" he cried and my heart ached to see his pain.
My master took the young man into his arms and rocked him as he had rocked me every night for weeks after leaving my home and my mother. The two men silently stayed there on the beach until the sun grew low and the tide pushed them further inland.
Duncan MacLeod stood on the beach and surveyed his fine handiwork. It had taken two years, but with tools he had fashioned from wood and stone, the use of his excellent blade, and no help at all from Matthew Addams, he had nearly completed a vessel large and strong enough to carry two men safely into the sea. I never saw a man so determined as our Duncan. It was the third such boat he had built since they had been on the island.
"I don't understand why you troubled yourself to build that thing, MacLeod, when you know I won't allow you to leave this place until I'm sure the Gathering is past."
"Perhaps I'll kill you in the night and sail off alone."
"No. You won't do that." My master came up behind Duncan and put his two strong arms 'round the other's body. The Highlander tried to pull away.
"Duncan MacLeod," my master whispered hoarsely. "We've spent more than six years together on this island, by my reckoning. We've worked side by side for all this time, living and dying by trial and error, and not once since that first day, have I touched you in this way.
"I have told you before…"
"I understand that you aren't interested in the physical pleasures I have to offer. But just for this brief moment, have the grace to let me rest here and know the warmth and comfort of another body. Just for a moment."
Our Duncan relaxed and leaned back into the embrace. My master kissed him gently just under the ear. The tall Scot closed his eyes as I'd seen him do one other time while in the arms of another. This time, though, he surrendered. It'd been a long time in coming and didn't it do my heart a world of good to see it?
"Give me your word that you won't smash this boat to pieces and I'll give you mine that I won't leave this place until you are willing to come with me," the young man, his voice soft as down.
"I've told you again and again, I wouldn't dream of touching your bloody boats."
"There's no one else about, Matthew. If not you, then who?"
Who indeed?
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