Voices Beckon, Pt. 1: The Voyage

  “YE’RE OUT EARLY.” Liam yawned, crossing his hands over his forearms and hunching his shoulders in an exaggerated shiver.

  “Aye, ‘early to bed, early to rise’ and all that—Da’s favorite adage for saving tallow,” David said, his head bent as he worked on the rope he held.

  “I think Franklin was considering more the health of a man’s mind than his pocket.”

  “Mayhap he was, but ye don’t know my da.”

  “What’s that ye’re so intent on there, Davey?”

  “A different meal, I’m tiring of the fare. The sea, she’s calm early on, the ship still. I think I can catch a fish or two ‘fore the wind picks up.”

  He’d pulled out a few strands of his hair and was carefully inserting them into a loose knot in a bit of weighted twine, finishing by tying the knot to the hook he’d fashioned. Breaking the loose end with his teeth, he grabbed a small piece of the galley refuse he’d set aside and stood, walking over to the rail.

  Liam followed, reaching over to finger the strength of his line, eying the drop from where they stood to the surface of the water below.

  “Hmmph, a wee bit different from the loch. Ye’ll no’ be wading in after it, I expect.” He grinned, looking back at David. “You don’t have a net, do ye? I can hang ye by your toes should ye need help bringing one in.”

  David looked down to the water and took a small step back. Calm or not, its vastness was still daunting.

  “I’ll be letting it go first. See that bucket over there? I’m thinking I can bring it up with that. It may take a bit of trying.”

  “Aye, a bit,” Liam said. He turned his gaze to the sea, suddenly alert. “Now! Drop your line, Davey. See the porpoise over there?” He pointed to a spot several yards out. “Maybe there’s more! They’re sure to be tailing something to eat.”

  David tossed out his line, and they watched it disappear under water. A minute passed, and he started to pull it in to check the bait, then stopped, transfixed, as a porpoise sailed out of the water directly in front of them.

  “Whoa!” Liam said, jumping back.

  David didn’t move. The porpoise hung suspended for a moment, the playful glint in its eye belying the grey corpse-like mantle it wore. It tossed its snout up into the air, and David heard a rush of air as if it were snorting, then it glided gracefully back into the sea, leaving nary a ripple as evidence.

  “Did ye see that, Liam? Did you see? He looked right at us!”

  “Aye, and I think he made an offering as well. Pull up your line.”

  David had felt the tug and was already doing just that while Liam ran to retrieve the bucket and another bit of muck to bait the hook. He brought in two more in quick succession, keeping his eye on the porpoise as it circled back round again, chasing the smaller fish toward the line.

  “Holy hell. Bring all the bait over, Liam.”

  He could hear the crew in the rigging cheering them on as the catch piled up. Twice more the porpoise herded round the fish. Then, on the last loop, it came in close and sailed high out of the water. Chattering, it tossed its snout again, telling them what, he hadn’t a clue. Then it landed with a great splash, completely soaking them with icy seawater. Laughing, they called out thanks to the creature as it sped away.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, what d’ye make of that, Davey? What do ye think it said?”

  “When I know, I’ll let ye know. Though it appears it thought we needed a decent meal and a bath.” He stood at the rail, watching the open sea thoughtfully. After a moment, he turned and looked at Liam, grinning.

  “Don’t know about you, but I need to get into something dry. Then let’s find the cook. He made a promise to fry up the catch for a fair share. And mayhap that was the beast’s message; he offered up more than enough to share, aye?”

  November 15, 1783—Luck was with us today. Liam and I caught many fish with the help of a friendly porpoise. It was an unusual situation to be sure. Even the sailors were agog. A welcome respite to the provisions we have been provided.

  DAVID POCKETED THE JOURNAL, taking his now habitual stance against the rail as he watched the moon rise. The water was calm, the reflection of the moon unbroken as it laid a glittering white carpet across the black sea.

  “They say with each new moon, souls return to the earth for another try.”

  Liquid softness, that’s what it was. There was no mistaking her voice. He hadn’t seen her alone since that morning she’d scurried away at the approach of her Da.

  “Aye, well, don’t be letting Uncle John hear ye say that; ye’ll be setting yourself up for a sermon.”

  “I wait for it each month, for a sign of my mother.”

  He looked at her, drawn by the sadness underlying the words. “Will ye know; if she comes back, I mean?”

  ‘I don’t know. I like to think I will. But I hope it’s not for some time. I prefer to feel her presence as it is now, watching over me. Look!” she said, pointing out the bright trail of a falling star. She turned to him. “At supper this evening the mates were full of the story of you and Liam fishing. They say it’s a sign, a good sign, that the fairie-folk are watching out for you, and therefore this ship.”

  “Hmmph.” He looked away, his eyes back on the moon. Best not to comment on souls returning and the blessing of the fairie-folk in the same conversation. Uncle was not keen on that vein of talk either, to say the least.

  “I should leave you to your thoughts. I told Annie I’d meet her later. Good night, David.”

  Should let her go. Plenty of agreeable lassies aboard this ship.

  “No! I mean . . . don’t go just yet, Elisabeth. Let’s step out of the wind, sit for a spell.”

  He reached out to grab her elbow, drawing his hand back instantly before touching her, remembering his resolve to keep her at arm’s length. He pointed to a spot sheltered from the wind. “Here, ye can still have a view of the moon, and it’s a wee bit warmer.”

  She sat, and he dropped down beside her, drawing up his knees and crossing his arms atop them. They didn’t have to talk of fairie-folk; there was plenty other to talk of.

  “What d’ye think it’ll be like, Philadelphia? I spend a lot of time wondering. I expect the town is full of important men. I may even have the opportunity to meet Dr. Franklin, if he returns. He’s ties to the Gazette, where I’m to be indentured.”

  Elisabeth looked at him, eyes narrowing. Quicker than he’d given her credit for then, seems she realized his use of the word ‘indentured’ had been deliberate.

  “Well, if you do, know that I expect to be introduced as well.”

  “The people. How different they must be, to have accomplished what they did.”

  The treaty between Britain and the colonies, or rather the United States of America, had been signed in France a couple of months ago, and King George had relinquished all claims to the thirteen colonies. Had actually acknowledged them to be free and independent states. It was nothing short of remarkable. What of the people who had brought that about? Why had they succeeded where so many others had failed? How long had Scotland been at it? What made the Americans different?

  “Why, just on this ship alone, Elisabeth, we’re but a small group among many. The Germans, the Dutch . . . I know some French, a few words of German. It’s so different from home, where ye know the intent of those around you.”

  “Well, just knowing the language doesn’t mean you know your neighbor’s intent, David.”

  “To be sure . . . but it helps, if ye can match the eyes with the words.” A tinder box slid past him as the ship rolled. Recognizing it as Alex’s, he reached for it, pocketing it before it landed in the sea. Lad had enough trouble starting the evening’s fire.

  “And it’s no’ just the language. What of the customs, whose shall prevail? Or do ye think we’ll mingle and take a bit of the best from each?” he asked, turning to look at her.

  “I think it’s likely that people will congregate into groups where they share something in common,
don’t you?”

  “Now that the common cause has been won, they’ll go their separate ways? Live with those with whom they belong, ye mean?”

  “No, I didn’t mean to imply that.”

  She shifted, as if he were making her uncomfortable. Well, he wanted to hear her say it. Again, plenty of agreeable lassies aboard this ship.

  “David! There you are. Good evening, Elisabeth. I’m sorry to interrupt.” Mr. Oliver, looking harried, paused to tip his hat to Elisabeth. “David, have you seen Sean? He disappeared shortly after supper. He’s been full of talk about your fishing experience; I’m afraid he might try to replicate it. I’ve sent Rob to search. I haven’t been able to find Liam; however, I expect I know his whereabouts.”

  “And which whereabouts d’ye have in mind, Mr. O?” Liam said, striding up with Sean in tow.

  “Sean, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Ye had me worried. Thank heavens you’re in one piece.”

  “Course I am, Mr. Ol’ver. I was only talking to one of the sailors ‘bout his work. I didna know ye were missing me, but then Alex, he’s the sailor, ken, he saw Liam and Annie trying to keep each other warm, that’s what he said anyway. I don’t think that’s what they were doing, but he talked to Liam and then Liam wanted me to take a walk with him. Did ye know they climb up that mast to the very top to fix the sails when they be needing to? And last week he did that twice, but I didna get to see cause I was in lessons. Don’t you think that would be the best lesson, Mr. Ol’ver, learning how the ship sails? He said he would take me up there if I wanted to and if ye said I could. I do want to, Mr. Ol’ver!”

  “No, Sean, I think not. My charge is to get you to Pennsylvania in one piece. You may climb all the masts you like once you’re in your brother’s care.” Mr. Oliver put his arm around Sean’s shoulders and guided him toward the companionway.

  “But there won’t be any masts with my brother, Mr. Ol’ver!”

  Mr. Oliver’s reply was lost as the two of them descended.

  “Elisabeth, did Davey here tell ye all about the porpoise and the fish? I tell you, David had those fish landing filleted into the skillet for the cook to fry faster than we could eat ‘em! It was a sight to see. One I’ll ne’er forget, I’ll tell ye that now.”

  “Good evening, Liam. Well, actually, he didn’t have much to add to what little I’d already heard from the crew.”

  “Aye, well, that’s David, the strong, silent type. Keep in mind ye’ll need to see me whenever ye require a full accounting of events. Now, come, the both of ye. Rob’s waiting. A cèilidh of sorts is underway on the aft deck. Annie says ye were planning on singing with her tonight, Elisabeth. Is that so?”

  “Nay? Truly? Annie did?” David stood, offering his hand to Elisabeth.

  “Yes, I suppose there might be a bit more to me than you’re aware of.” She stood without taking his hand and turned on her heel, walking toward the aft deck.

  Liam laughed. “I think ye offended her.”

  “Aye, well mayhap,” David said, “Let’s go, I don’t want to miss any if she sings.”

  The musicians were running through the motions of tuning their instruments, matching their notes one against the other. “The lad with the flute, he’s called Ewan. Thomas is playing the accordion, and ye of course know Sarah and Annie. The one with Elisabeth in his arms is Seamus. He plays the fiddle,” Liam said, with a discreet eye to David’s reaction at the last.

  David whipped his head around to follow Liam’s gaze. Eyes narrowed and jaw tensed, he watched as Seamus swung her round and round.

  “David, you’re here. Good, I took the liberty of bringing this up from your case,” his uncle said, coming up behind him, producing a harmonica from his pocket.

  Seamus released Elisabeth at Annie’s side, and David turned slowly, taking the harmonica. “Thanks, Uncle John,” he said, glancing back to see that Seamus still had his hands off her.

  “Ye play, David? Well, well, cull of many talents. Let’s give these Irish lads a helping hand then, aye?”

  Liam quickly tested the heft of a few of the smaller barrels in the vicinity, choosing one that was half empty to serve as a drum. They waited a few beats into the first song, then joined in, the drum setting a rhythm the harmonica answered, delighting the others. Annie and Elisabeth joined in at the chorus.

  She set his blood dancing, just looking at her. He hadn’t meant to set about her earlier; he had no quarrel with the lass.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she sang song after song, not even when Sarah Wallace came and sidled down between him and Rob. As soon as he saw her step aside to take a break, he pocketed his harmonica and went to her, grabbing her hand and startling her into a laugh as he swung her round and round in step with the music.

  He kept her dancing for near an hour, until she finally begged, breathless and laughing, to sit for a spell.

  “I’m finally warm, David, for the first time since the ship has sailed.”

  “Aye, well, it does feel good to be moving, doesn’t it?” He struggled to keep his arm on his knee instead of drawing her closer. She was a bonny lass at any time, but more so now with her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “Your voice is a wonder Elisabeth. What other talents are ye storing?”

  She laughed. “Not too many actually. I do love to write poetry, though. My friend Rhee and I would while away hours reciting our poems to each other.”

  “Aye? Recite one now. If ye don’t mind, that is.”

  “Oh, I think I’ll save that for another day. It won’t serve me well to reveal all my secrets in one evening. Besides, I should be seeing to my father before he seeks to find what’s become of me.”

  “Another evening then.” He stood and offered her a hand. She took it this time, jumping to her feet at the same time the ship rolled, tossing her toward him. Gently, he steadied her, reveling in the sensation of the warm, soft weight of her.

  She backed away slightly and looked up at him. Keeping one hand around her waist, he moved the other to her face, pulling a bit of hair back from her eyes.

  “Aye, but ye are a bonny lass, Elisabeth,” he said quietly, losing himself in her eyes, his hand cradling her chin while his thumb caressed her cheek. He could kiss her. She wouldn’t mind, he could tell. And Uncle John had retired an hour ago.

  But there were more than a few eyes on them, that he could also tell.

  Might be worth it.

  Then he thought of her father and dropped his hand from her face, pulling her closer for a brief instant before releasing her and guiding her toward the companionway leading to her cabin.

  At the open hatch Elisabeth turned and gave him a dazzling smile. The force of it startled him, and once again he found he had lost his tongue. How did she do that?

  Why did he let her?

  “Good night, David. Sleep well!” she said. She didn’t wait for a reply.

  He let her because he didn’t seem to have a say in the matter.

  He rejoined the others, dropping between Liam and Rob on the deck. Liam looked at him, opening his mouth, then closing it as he seemed to think the better of whatever he’d intended to say. He passed over a cup of water, and David drank from it gratefully.

  “She’s an acid tongue, that wench,” Rob said.

  David turned on him, not certain he heard right. “Say again?” he said, his hands curling into fists at his side.

  “Sarah . . . ye left me at her mercy. And she has none.”

  David relaxed, remembering Sarah had come to sit between them. He grinned. “Just sparing ye time with an agreeable lassie, Rob.”

  “Dinna need no favors, lad.”

  David pulled out his harmonica and played softly. He watched as Annie beckoned and Liam went to her, holding her close as she whispered in his ear. Laughing, Liam turned to Sarah and hauled her up and into a dance.

  Sweet, the lass had been aiming daggers his way for hours, since he’d first taken hold of Lisbeth. Hadn’t been much more than a few glances bet
ween them, and she thought to make something of it. And there’d be no more of that now, besides.

  Elisabeth hadn’t pulled away.

  “He’s always been one to attract the lassies, or anyone for that matter. Fate’s way of evening up the score, I suppose,” Rob said.

  David continued playing, though he glanced at Rob, signaling his interest. He was curious about Liam. For all his loquaciousness, the lad sure didn’t speak much of himself.

  “I met him a few years past, when Mr. Oliver bought out my indenture. Liam’s had a rough time of it. His ma took to the gin when he was but a wee bairn. He ne’er knew his pa. Some say his pa was an English gent, one who tarried in the village a bit too long whilst on the way to his estate. Mayhap so. Liam doesn’t have the look of most. By the time I met him, he was taking more care of his Ma than she of him, with necessity causing him to become very resourceful. Even so, Mr. Oliver has always had an eye out for him—for all those who be needing a little looking after.” Rob paused, running his hand down his leg before he caught himself and removed it. It seemed Rob had needed a ‘little looking after’ himself at one time, and he didn’t want to be reminded of it.

  “He made sure Liam had enough to eat and attended his school. His ma passed last year. Tongues wagged she overdosed herself with the laudanum. I don’t know if it was true, but the time was right when Mr. O decided to make his way to America and asked him along.”

  The ship’s bell struck three bells, and Rob nodded.

  “Tomorrow then, David.” He got up slowly, steadying himself with his hand against a crate before he walked to the companionway.

  Rob was a good, steady sort. He’d likely do well in America.

  Annie’s high, clear voice rang out with the verse to a melancholy song, signaling the end to the evening. Ewan and David accompanied her, David’s thoughts racing as he played. His family; they didn’t have much, but they always had food and shelter. If they were ever short of anything, it was Da who did the worrying and providing. If Da hadn’t been there, would he’ve been able to? To provide? He’d like to think so, but truly, would he?

  Elisabeth . . . she’d been in his arms. She hadn’t pulled away. He was apt to lose sleep over just the thought of it tonight. You’d think she was the first lass he had had in his arms.

  Somehow she was.

  November 16, 1783—The passengers put together a cèilidh on deck. It is not unusual to have music; it passes the time. However, this one taking place on the fifteenth instant was of a more organized nature. It served to spread goodwill amongst all, I think, and lightened the tedium some are feeling. I’ve been fortunate to date as I’ve been able to keep busy with new friends, lessons, and some chores assigned by the first mate. I’m appreciative of the chores—this ship is very small for one used to having five hectares to work daily. Uncle John has arranged for me to participate in afternoon lessons given by Mr. Oliver (Liam’s guardian). The mathematics comes easy, but the Latin is requiring a bit of thought. Liam, in spite of his flippancy, is proficient in all. The younger ones are most affected by monotony as they are not allowed on deck without supervision. This morning Liam, Rob, and I fashioned a stash of logs from a bit of flotsam and have been encouraging Sean and his friends to build miniature cabins and such. Mr. Kiefer showed us how the log cabin was configured. It seems an economical way to build a lodging fast if ye but had the timber.

  November 17, 1783—We are all feeling the cold overmuch as the wind is constant and fires are allowed for a short cooking period only, due to the danger they present. Needless to say, we’d all perish should the wind carry the fire across the ship. We sighted another ship heading to London. The captains compared calculations, and Captain Honeywell was satisfied his were accurate. They communicated by means of a board. Alex, the youngest member of the crew, is helpful when we ask for clarification of the ‘goings on’ aboard. I often feel that the language the crew speaks to one another is something entirely other than English. It’s helpful to have someone interpret. I mean to ask if he lives in Philadelphia when not at sea.

  November 18, 1783—Elisabeth shared one of her poems with me last evening while we took exercise on deck. I wasn’t sure of the meaning, but I did appreciate her company. I‘ve come to look forward to spending time with her.

  November 19, 1783—This morning the sea was much calmer. I tried fishing early on, but without luck. I told Liam if he had but risen from the berth at first light, he could have applied his charm again, and we would be eating other than oatcakes. Uncle John’s wee ‘sermon’ was particularly agreeable this morning, especially as he joined us in a game of hazard first. Prior to this trip, I hadn’t known he played, much less that he enjoyed playing. It’s something I would have thought the kirk to frown upon.

  November 20, 1783—The sailors are forecasting a storm tomorrow based upon the look of the moon tonight. Fishing may be good if it holds off until the afternoon. They say it may cause us to be confined below for our own safety if it is a powerful storm. I pray not.

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