The Canadian Highland

Chapter 11

  During the fourth week of our voyage north-west the weather took a turn for the worse. The crew walked around with concerned looks on their faces. Gone were the happy tunes sung to oneself. In exchange were serious looks from sailors who knew they had a difficult time ahead. The sky had lost its usual blueness and appeared dark, dangerous, and ready to unleash a bitter torrent.

  Normally, on most days since my first encounter with George, I would exchange a few pleasant words with him. He is always polite, asking about the welfare of my family and especially my baby brother. But on this day, he went about his business and acted as if he didn’t know me.

  Men who have been at sea for long periods of time know when a bad storm is about to strike.

  And did the storm ever strike! In the evening, the wind and the rain picked up fiercely. The heavens opened and let down a rainfall like I have never heard before. Sometimes, back home in Argyll, the rain and hail would come down strong, but I always felt safe in our little croft huddled close to the fire with Mama and Papa. When the noise got too loud, when it felt like the hail was about to break through the roof, I would concentrate on my mother’s soothing words of comfort and I knew I had nothing to fear. That comfort did not exist here.

  The noise of the hail pounding the deck was deafening, but it still didn’t drown out the terrible claps of thunder. Water at first started to drip, and then pour, into the hold, making most bedding and blankets wet and unusable. I could faintly hear men moving above us, and I knew Captain Davis must be up there trying to get the sails down. With the sails down, maybe the ship wouldn’t move so violently back and forth.

  The movement of the cargo hold was terrible. As the ship moved through the waves, up and down, items were being thrown about and scattered on the floor. As the ship rolled from side to side, pots, pans, and kettles were overturned. No sooner would someone clean up one mess than another one was created in a different section of the hold. Everything was dark, since you could not keep the lanterns lit long enough before they were snuffed out. The complete darkness made things even more fearful since you couldn’t see things coming.

  “This is going to be a rough night,” Papa said to Mama in the darkness.

  “It’s Calum,” said Mama clearly upset. “With the ship moving, it’s difficult to hang on to him. I’m afraid I might drop him.”

  “Molly,” Papa commanded, “Stay close to your mother and help her. Willie and I will help as much as we can too. This storm won’t last forever. Liam, you have to be brave too, for the sake of your mother and little brother. Trust me, we’ll get through it.”

  Just then, the ship crashed into a wave and pitched so far to the left people started to fall screaming from their berths. I held on to Mama and Calum as tightly as I could as wet blankets started to fall on top of us. I braced myself for something worse, but Papa and Willie made sure we were safe, taking the full impact of anything or anyone falling towards us. From what I could barely hear over the violence of the storm, other people were not as lucky. There were wails of pain and crying throughout the hold.

  “Why did I say yes to this mad scheme,” cried one person.

  “Any moment we’ll be swallowed up into the great deep,” screamed another.

  “We’ll be dead before dawn if this continues” bellowed someone else.

  “Shut your traps right this instant!” There was no doubt about it. That was the loud voice of Mr. Docherty yelling at some of the others. “A ship can withstand more than this. Yes, we are in a bad situation, but you don’t make it any better by saying such things. There are children here who are frightened enough. My little Angus, or Liam Fraser for that matter, does not need to hear the mad words of someone who has difficulty in a storm. This will pass. But to anyone who dares again to say such foolish things, my anger will not pass. Ships face storms at sea; it’s a simple fact. Now let’s calm down and make sure no one gets a kettle to the head. And by God if I hear any more foolish talk, the kettle you’ll get to the head will be from me.”

  The rough words seemed to calm everyone down. The storm however, was just getting started. I stayed close to Mama with one arm around her shoulder and another placed on Calum’s little back. My poor brother was crying uncontrollably. I felt like doing the same. Liam was on the other side of Mama, holding on to her like you would hold on to a piece of wood to stay afloat while in water. Through the darkness, as close as I was to him, I could faintly make out the terror on his face. His eyes were shut tight, and his cheek pressed closely against Mama’s breast.

  “Don’t worry,” I whispered rather loudly to Liam in between claps of thunder. “This happens all the time at sea. One of the crewmen told me just two days ago something like this was expected. He said we’ve been lucky so far. The best advice he gave me is to not fight the movement too much. A ship is going to move, and you have to move with it. Just let me know if you’re feeling sick at all.”

  “I’m too scared to be sick,” Liam whimpered. “Can you sing Molly, please?”

  I told Liam to come over and sit beside me. I was now huddled between Mama and Liam, but I still carefully had my hand on the back of Calum as he continued to cry and wail. Turing to Liam, I couldn’t think of anything to sing, so I made up a little sleepy song about a courageous boy named Liam. He was a young Scot who lived in a time when dragons roamed the Highlands. I had no idea what I was singing, but it seemed to calm my brother down. The storm raged outside, but he was losing himself in my singsong story. I could tell Mama was starting to breathe a little easier too, even though her youngest was far from calm.

  The storm raged on for hours. As we sat huddled in the dark, the ship would pitch and roll at a terrible angle. People would scream, thinking at any moment we would be overturned, but then, the ship would right itself, only to do the same thing in the opposite direction. Many people got sick. Through the sounds of the storm, you could feel the sickness as it spread like a foul vapour throughout the entire cabin. I was getting a little ill myself, but I desperately tried to keep myself composed. Throughout the storm, Papa and Willie along with the other men bailed the water out with whatever buckets were available. As the ship moved from side to side, they also desperately tried to keep things from shifting all over the hold.

  It was one of the worst nights of my life. Although I could still hear the rain outside on deck, it must have been around the crack of dawn when the storm started to lessen. The fearful wakefulness of the past few hours was slowly disappearing. With the light of day, I started to notice those around me. Everyone was a sorry sight. Papa and Willie were on the floor at the foot of our berth. Their clothes were soaking wet as well as being ripped to shreds. They both look like they had been through the worst battle imaginable. Most others around the hold did not look much better. Through the fog of my own weariness, I noticed the McIntyre’s sleeping on their berth. Directly across from our berth along the main pathway, I noticed no movement at all. They seemed calm, almost too calm.

  As it started to get lighter, my eyes got heavier. Before I knew it, I had finally fallen asleep on my poor mother’s shoulder.

  I woke with a start. It took me a second to realize exactly where I was. My little brother’s head was buried in my lap, while I was leaning against my poor mother. Looking up, I saw her eyes were closed, and she was using the wooden post of the berth as a pillow. I slowly lifted my head. I carefully looked around the hold to see the same terrible sight I had beheld before I fell asleep. There were some stirrings around the cabin now. Although it was still rather dark, it’s always dark down here, I noticed people moving about in an attempt to clean up items that had been thrown about during the storm. You could still hear the rain outside, but it had let up a lot, and the ship’s movements were normal. I gave a little prayer of thanks to God we made it through the worst night of this journey.

  I sat quietly for what must have been close to an hour. I did n
ot have the heart to move and wake up everyone around me. With my head peacefully leaning against my mother, I closed my eyes, drifted off for a few minutes, and would quickly open them for no other reason than the need to stay awake. It was during one of these small naps I heard a terrible scream come from the same quiet berth across the main path of the hold. It was the painful scream of a man that awoke us all. Mama’s eyes opened, and Liam jumped up from my lap.

  “What was that?” Liam yelled.

  “It was a scream come from the McIntyre’s berth,” I whispered to my brother. “Now be quiet. I don’t know what’s going on, but the one thing no one wants right now is for you to walk around asking questions. You stay here. You understand?”

  “Yes Molly. I was just curious. I was having a nice dream about home when I woke. I won’t be poking my head into other people’s business.”

  Soon, there was a small gathering around the McIntyre’s berth. I was careful not to get too close. I knew something terrible had happened through the night. Everyone was silent.

  I had seen John McIntyre and Uncle Willie talk often while up on the deck. They were both around the same age, and they both had the same sense of humour. Although they had just met while on ship, it was if the two of them had always been friends. The way the two of them spoke to each other, you were never sure who started and who finished what was said. Isabella McIntyre was a different story though. It seemed like she had never left her berth ever since we came on board. I had only seen her on deck twice, and both times she was huddled so tightly in her blanket you could barely see her face. I never talked to her directly, but you could tell she hated every moment on this ship.

  I saw Willie with his arm around John. John McIntyre was crying on my uncle’s shoulder as if he was his father. Poor Mr. McIntyre had no one else to turn to. Between the two of them would be no jokes, no making fun of each other, no happiness about making it through the storm. Something tragic had happened: Isabella McIntyre died. During the night, who knows when, she passed from this world to the next. Peacefully I would like to think, but there was no peace during the storm.

  Death is a terrible thing to deal with, especially a death so close. I didn’t know exactly what it was that took this woman from us, but I know such things can happen on board a ship when people live near each other for so long.

  “Good people, I was just informed of the tragic situation of Mrs. McIntyre’s death.” Mr. MacDonell had just made his way down the ladder to the hold and was looking around, assessing the situation. “How terrible to have such an awful thing happen when we are so close to leaving this ship. The night was terrible, but this news makes the storm seem like an annoyance in comparison. Mr. McIntyre, on behalf of Lord Selkirk, the deepest sympathies go out to you for your unfortunate loss.”

  There was no reply from Mr. McIntyre, who simply stared up at everyone with a pained expression. Tears continued to form on his cheeks. What could he say? Uncle Willie decided to cut through the silence. “What is to be done now Mr. MacDonell? We can’t simply leave poor Isabella down here with the rest of us.”

  “Quite right young Fraser,” Mr. MacDonell replied. “Doctor Edwards and Father Burke need to come down. I’m sorry Mr. McIntyre, but your wife must be moved and prepared for burial at sea. Father Burke will take care of all the arrangements. He is a Catholic priest, and although you may not be Catholic, he of course knows how to conduct a proper funeral at sea.”

  It did not take long to assemble on deck for a quick funeral service. Once Mr. MacDonell had left, Dr. Edwards came down to the hold and started to make preparations for Isabella’s body. Sheets were sewn together with weights placed inside so her body would not float when thrown overboard. There was not any hesitation in Dr. Edwards’ movements. It seems as if a death at sea is not only normal, it’s expected.

  The funeral service conducted by Father Burke was very solemn. He had his Bible open, and he said many things about ashes and dust which seemed strange to me because this is a burial at sea. Father Burke also recited the 23rd Psalm, one of the only passages in the Bible I actually know by heart. Before the bagpipes were played, the captain said a few words about the importance of sea burial. It seemed to me he had done this many times before. It was still raining on deck, but it was only a light rain that felt very cool on my face. The rain helped to wash away the memory of last night.

  As the bagpipes started their sad tune, I turned and saw the defeated look of Isabella’s husband. What would he do now that his wife was lost to him? Like us, I’m sure it was a difficult decision to come. Did his wife agree it was a good idea, or was she forced into going? I couldn’t bear to think what if such a terrible thing happened to one of us. Uncle Willie along with some of the sailors lifted up Isabella for the last time. George Cooper was with them, and he turned to me with a sad look that made my heart melt a little inside. I was standing beside my father, whose hand was in mine. I started to grip his hand tightly, and I could feel the same force in response. As much as this was a very sad occasion, I knew my father was relieved not one of his own was being buried at sea. A lone musket shot was fired over the side of the ship as Isabella McIntyre was dropped overboard to her final resting place at the bottom of the ocean.

  And just as quickly as it started, the funeral service of Isabella McIntyre came to a speedy conclusion. After a brief moment of silence, sailors and passengers started to move about and quietly discuss plans for the day. With the worst day behind us, there was a lot of work to do. Sails needed repair, water needed to be bailed, and most importantly, people needed to get their mind on something else besides how close death came knocking for everyone last night. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but it seemed Mama was holding little Calum more closely than she usually does. I guess it’s important to hold onto those things that connect us to life as tightly as we can.