THE GOOD SHIP _SEA UNICORN_
Kate McGhie was safe on board the _Sea Unicorn_, Captain Smith--a
vessel English by ownership and manning, but which, for purposes which
need not at this point be too closely defined, presently flew the Three
Castles of the famous free city of Hamburg, though that fact would
not materially have benefited any one on board had one of the British
fleet from the Medway overhauled Captain Smith. For on board the _Sea
Unicorn_ there was much contraband of war, clearly intended for the
sustenance and equipment of the enemies of his Majesty King James, both
in the West of England and also more particularly in Scotland.
As Kate was being taken up the side, she could hear above all the sea
noises the voice of a man in angry monologue. Captain Zachariah Smith,
of the good town of Poole, was exceedingly wrathful at the delay. But
in spite of his anger the work of the deck went forward as well as it
might on so small a vessel, when everything creaked and tumbled in the
dancing jabble of the cross seas. For the wrath of Captain Smith for
the most part passed off in angry words, and did not, as was usual in
the merchant service of the time, very promptly materialize itself in
the form of a handspike. There was considerable difficulty in getting
the boat alongside on account of the swell, and Kate was handed up
like a piece of delicate goods. The man upon whose saddle she had been
carried held her up lightly poised on his hand, and as the side of the
plunging ship descended and the boat lurched upward, simultaneously
half a dozen arms, rough but not untender, were outstretched to receive
her. In a moment more she found herself safe on the deck of the _Sea
Unicorn_.
"Ah, my lassie, come your ways," said a voice, which, simply because it
was the voice of a woman, made Kate almost cry out with pleasure. It
was a pleasant enough voice, too, and had something in the tone of it
which seemed an excellent guarantee of the good intentions of its owner.
A tall, well-formed, rosily colored woman of forty or fifty stood by
the mast, keeping her hand on a rope to steady herself as the vessel
lunged and dipped her stem viciously into the trough of the waves.
"This is an uncanny and unheartsome journey for ye, my lassie," said
the woman, "but it's an auld proverb that we maun a' do as things will
do wi' us."
Kate ran to her as soon as her feet were free on the deck and caught
her by the hand.
"You will help me--you will save me!" she said, looking up at the buxom
woman with an agony of apprehension in her eyes. For it was a great
thing after a night of terror and darkness, and after the enforced and
unwelcome company of ungentle men, for the lonely girl to find a woman,
and one so seemingly kindly of face and manner.
"Help ye, lassie! That will surely Betsy Landsborough do. Have no fear
of that. They shall never steer ye gin ye like it not. That dour man
o' mine has his orders frae the chief, belike, and in the mean time
ye'll hae to bide wi' us. But there shall none hurt or molest ye, while
Betsy, the wife of Alister, can win at them wi' her ten finger-nails."
"You speak like a Lowland woman," said Kate, ten minutes afterwards,
when they found themselves in the little cabin in the stern of the
ship. Kate was an excellent sailor, so that the plunging of the _Sea
Unicorn_ did not seriously affect her. By-and-by the heaving moderated
as the ship turned tail to the land and sped away before a strong
southeasterly wind towards the shores of England. Owing to the heavy
sea it had been found utterly impossible to get the long-boat on board,
and Captain Smith had reluctantly sent it back, to be cared for in the
little port of Lis till his return.
The cabin of the _Sea Unicorn_ was a narrow place, but it was dainty
enough in its appointments, and the two small white berths were covered
with white linen of wonderful softness.
Now the bitterest and most immediate of Kate's anxiety was over. She
knew that for the present at least she was a prisoner in the hands of
kindly people, and with one of her own sex on board. So it seemed as if
she could not let her companion out of her sight.
"You have not yet told me why you speak like a Lowland woman," Kate
said again to her new friend.
Betsy Landsborough had not heard the first time, being busied with the
arrangement of various articles of dress in a dark closet by the side
of the cabin.
"'Deed aye," she answered, "and what for no? Would ye hae me speak like
thae muckle ill-favored sons 'o the peat-creel because for my sins are
o' the Highland Host carried me away frae bonny Colmonel in Carrick in
the year '79. Ever since which sorrowful day I have been the wife o'
Alister McAlister, the tacksman of the Isle Suliscanna, near half-road
across the Atlantic."
"Is your husband on board?" asked Kate.
"Aye, that he is; ye'll hae maybe seen mair o' him than ye like. For it
was him that gat the chief's orders to bring ye here wi' him. He wad no
hae muckle to say till ye. He is none ower gleg with the tongue at the
best o' times. It was a year and a half before he understood mair o'
my talk than juist 'Come here!' 'Gang there!' 'Stand oot o' the road o'
me, or else I'll ding the head aff ye!'"
Kate smiled a little at the friendly sounding and natural accent of the
Ayrshire woman, and though her path was still as dark as night before
her, and she knew not whither she was being taken, a load consciously
lifted from about her heart as she listened.
"But can you tell me," she returned, "by whose orders and for what
purpose I have been stolen cruelly away from my friends and set on this
vessel, going I know not where?"
"By whose orders I can tell ye, and welcome. It is by the orders o' the
chief o' the McAlisters. Why, lass, it is something to be proud of. The
Lord of Barra, the chief himsel', is fell fond o' ye, and, I doubt not,
has ta'en ye awa' that ye may settle doon to island ways and be ready,
when he gets his new coronet, to be a brave Lady of the Isles."
"But I will never marry my Lord Barra--no, nor any man but the man I
love!" cried Kate, indignantly.
"Hoot, toot, gently and daintily, my lassie; that is even what I said
mysel', when yon great rawboned stot first took me wi' him, never
speerin' my leave. Dinna ye ken that no a Lord o' Barra has ever gotten
a wife for five hunder years, but by the auld and honored Highland
fashion o' takin' her first an' coortin' her after? Haith! there's mony
a mislippened lass that wishes she had that way o't. For mony is the
ane wha mairries for love and gets the butter and the comfits first,
but in the afterings finds that right bitter in the belly which had
been so sweet in the mouth."
And with this Sabine wisdom Betsy Landsborough vanished with a flourish
of lifted petticoats up the ladder, which on the small _Sea Unicorn_
served to communicate between the cabin and the deck.
The ship still sped on her course, and Kate sat below thinking of
her strange adventure, which yet seemed so little and so natural to
the wild, lawless folk among whom she found herself. Captain Smith
incessantly prowled the deck and looked eagerly for Branksea Island,
and still more anxiously for the lights of one of his Majesty's swift
cruisers from the Nore. So in the mean time we will let the _Sea
Unicorn_ cut a furrow out of sight across the long heaving billows of
the seas, while we go back to accompany Wat Gordon in his search for
his lost love. Difficult and almost hopeless as the quest seemed, Wat's
heart was wholly true and loyal. He never swerved from his resolve to
search the world and to endure all manner of hardness till he died,
rather than that he should not find his love. Whereat, as often as
he put the matter into words, Jack Scarlett swore under his breath,
and more than ever regretted (he stated it on his honor as a soldier)
the best paymaster and the most complaisant landlady he had known for
twenty years.