The Desperate Journey (7 page)

“Shall I bring a doctor to you, lass?” James asked anxiously.

“You know we canna afford one, James. I’ll be all right soon. Put the kettle on and give me a warm drink to ease the cough.”

James lifted the kettle. “We’re oot o’ water again!” he cried in exasperation. “Dear knows what I’d give for that spring o’ clear
water at our door at Culmailie, instead o’ that well in the Trongate where there’s always a long tail o’ folk waiting their turn to draw.”

“I’ll go fetch some,” Kirsty offered. Davie was out already trying to beg some firewood from a joiner’s shop. Kirsty ran downstairs carrying the bucket.

“Give me a shout when ye’re at the foot of the stair and I’ll carry it up,” her father called after her. He did not like to leave Kate, whose eyes were bright with fever. They settled down to wait for Kirsty’s return.

“Kirsty’s a long time gone,” Kate said at last in a weak whisper.

“Here comes someone now,” James said.

It was Davie, carrying a bundle of wood. “Where’s Kirsty?” he asked when he saw she was not in the room.

“Gone to the Trongate well to draw water. She’s been gone a long time and I could not leave your mother.”

“I’ll go find her,” Davie said at once. He hurried down the stair again and along the Trongate. There was a crowd of children at the well all waiting to draw water. Several of the small girls were weeping. Davie found Kirsty near the end of the queue, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Jings! Is that as far as you’ve got, Kirsty? What’s the matter?”

“It’s Tam Sweeney and those lads with him,” Kirsty sobbed. “As soon as the girls get their turn at the well-head, they push and jostle us and make us go to the end of the line again. Twice I’ve had my bucket filled and they’ve turned it upside down and – and the water’s getting awful low in the well.”

Davie knew that when there was a run on the well it sometimes went dry and took a long time to fill again. His mother
must
have water. Davie was desperate. He strode up to the Irish bully, Tam Sweeney.

“Tam Sweeney, you let my sister go up to the well at once!” he demanded. “Did you upset her bucket before?”

Tam Sweeney eyed him up and down. “Faith, look at the young
turkey cock we’ve got here! Sure now, and if I did, what are
you
going to do about it?”

“Think shame of yourself for tormenting bit lassies!” Davie’s mouth curled in contempt. “Ye’ll let my sister go to the well or –”

“Or what? You canna make me do anything!” Sweeney aimed a kick at Davie, but Davie saw it coming and jumped back. Then he sprang at Sweeney and landed a blow fairly and squarely on Tam Sweeney’s nose that brought water to his eyes. His nose began to bleed.

“A fecht! A fecht!” the crowd of youths with Sweeney cried in delight. “Go for him, Sweeney!”

Tam Sweeney roared in pain and anger, “I’ll break every bone in your body, you young spalpeen!”

He rushed at Davie, but Davie sidestepped quickly, dodged round Sweeney and thumped him in the ribs.

“Wait now!” A youth stepped forward. “Let’s have a proper fecht. Make a ring round them both. Now, off wi’ your jackets! Give them to someone to hold.”

Davie saw Kirsty, white-faced, on the edge of the circle. Beside her was Maggie Hunter, her workmate in the mill. “Here, take my jacket, Kirsty!” he said.

“Oh, Davie, Tam Sweeney’s much bigger than you! Dinna be fighting him,” Kirsty begged.

“If I don’t fight him, all that mob will be at me and give me a beating,” Davie said. “Don’t be feart, Kirsty. I’ll worstle through! You make a dash for the well and fill your bucket and get home with it while they’re busy watching me,” he added in a low voice. “Mother needs that water badly.”

“Aye, Kirsty, do that! Give me Davie’s jacket to hold,” Maggie advised.

“On ye go, and no holds barred!” the tall youth cried to Tam and Davie.

Sweeney was more cautious now and advanced on Davie
with upraised fists, stepping from one side to another. Davie sidestepped with him, playing for time, trying to avoid serious injury, so that Kirsty could draw her bucket of water and get away with it. Round and round the ring they went! Davie landed a light blow that grazed Sweeney’s cheek, and Sweeney scored a hit on Davie’s shoulder that sent him staggering, though he did not fall.

“Go it, Sweeney!” shouted the mob of boys, mostly Irish. “Give the Highlander a thrashing!”

A few more light blows were struck by both, then, with a swinging blow, Sweeney cut Davie’s cheek just below his eye. Blood streamed from the cut. Davie backed away and the bully followed him. Suddenly Davie stopped dead in his tracks and Sweeney could not stop his own onward rush. Davie landed a blow square to Sweeney’s chin which jarred the Irish boy’s teeth and sent him staggering backwards.

“See that! The Highlander’s a bonnie fechter!” a boy yelled.

“Go it, Highlander!” the mob yelled, always ready to change over to the winning side.

Sweeney shook his head like a bewildered animal for a moment, then he rushed at Davie with a roar of rage. Davie did his best to defend himself, but Sweeney rained blow after blow upon him.

“Sweeney’s too good for him!” yelled Sweeney’s friend. “Go it, Tam!”

Round and round the ring the two boys went, milling backwards and forwards. One of Davie’s eyes was almost closed and his nose was bleeding too. Only sheer courage kept him on his feet. They were close to the ring of spectators when Sweeney made an ugly rush at Davie.

Maggie Hunter had pushed her way to the front of the crowd and was watching her opportunity. As Sweeney rushed at Davie, her foot shot out. The big Irish lout tripped over it, staggered and went sprawling to the ground.

“Sweeney’s down! Sweeney’s down!” the mob shouted.

Sweeney pulled himself up, panting and winded with his fall.

“Someone tripped me up!” He glared at the circle of faces. “It was that lass there!” He lifted his fist menacingly at Maggie Hunter.

“Awa’ wi’ ye!” Maggie yelled back at him, but taking care to get behind two boys. “Dinna mak’
me
your excuse if ye canna stay on your feet!”

“I’ll pull the hair from your head!” Sweeney cried, making a snatch at her. Davie realised Maggie’s danger.

“Hi, you! The fight’s still on!” he cried, and rushed at Sweeney who was off his guard. Davie launched a blow with the last of his strength behind it, a blow which landed just above the big bully’s heart. Sweeney, already winded by his fall, doubled up completely and sat down on the ground.

“Sweeney’s out! Sweeney’s out! The Highlander’s knocked Sweeney out!” the shout went up, and someone in the crowd began to count, “One, two, three –”

Suddenly there was a yell from the outskirts of the crowd. “Look out, lads! Here comes the Watch!”

The crowd scattered as if by magic as two stalwart figures, armed with truncheons, came at a smart pace along the street. Even Sweeney managed to pick himself up and hang on to a friend’s arm and melt away round a corner. Only Davie and Maggie were left to face “the Watch,” the early police force of the Glasgow of 1813.

“What’s going on here?” the bigger of the two men asked in a Highland voice. He took Davie by the shoulder.

“It was that Tam Sweeney who set on him,” Maggie spoke up at once. “Sweeney wouldna let the lassies draw water at the well and Davie tried to stop him.”

“Och! So Sweeney has been up to his tricks again!” the watchman said angrily. “Was it the wild Irish that set on ye, lad?”

“Weel, I – I fought him back,” Davie answered truthfully.

“If Davie hadna defended himself the Irish lads would have torn him limb from limb,” Maggie declared.

“Ye’ve no business to be fechting in the street,” the watchman told Davie sternly. “You could be put in gaol for that.” He eyed Davie’s battered face. “Ye’ve taken a pasting yourself, by the looks of it, laddie.”

“Tam Sweeney didna get off free, either,” Maggie remarked proudly.

A glint came into the Highland policeman’s eye. “Did he no’? Maybe I’ll no’ be saying anything more about it, then. I ken those Irish!”

Just then James Murray came running round the corner.

“Davie, are ye all right?” he gasped, looking at Davie’s injured face with consternation.

“He’s no’ as bad as he looks!” the watchman said. “Take tha lad home.” He turned to Davie with an assumed expression of anger, “Mind ye, if I catch ye fechting those wild Irish again, it’ll be the worse for ye.” Then he gave a chuckle. “It’s lucky for you I’m a Highlander myself!”

James hurried Davie along in the direction of their close, with Maggie Hunter running alongside them. “What are you doing, getting mixed in a fight?” he asked Davie sternly.

Maggie spoke up. “Dinna blame him! It was because Tam Sweeney wouldna let Kirsty tak’ water from the well, and Davie knew his mother sore needed it.”

James’s face softened.

“I’ll be leaving ye noo,” Maggie said, skipping off in the direction of her own home.

“Thank you for the way you helped me, Maggie,” Davie called after her.

Kate Murray sat up in bed and cried at the sight of Davie’s bruised face.

“It’s all right, Mother. It’ll look a lot better after I’ve washed it. You should see Tam Sweeney’s!” he could not help adding.

Kirsty had told her mother of the cause of the fight. Kate, weak
with illness, began to weep. “Oh, why did we have to come to this terrible city? At Culmailie we did not have to live on bread earned by our children, nor stay in a dirty place like this one! There, a stream of pure water ran past our door, and we did not have to stand in a line to draw water from a muddy well. Our children were not set upon by brutes there. Oh, why did we ever leave Culmailie?”

“Now, Kate, you know we had to leave,” James told her gently. “We had no choice. You’re sick and that’s why your heart fails you, my poor lass.”

“James, will you take us back to the Highlands when I’m strong enough to go?” Kate begged him.

“I’ll do what I can, lass, though there is no living for us in the Highlands, either,” James said, shaking his head in despair.

It was then that the knock came at the door.

James Murray opened the door. In a flash his look of caution changed to one of welcome, and his hand was outstretched.

“Why, it’s Donald Rae, no less!” he cried with joy. “Come in, man, come in! Ye’re right welcome.”

The old drover stepped into the room. “My duty to you, Mistress Murray. My, but it’s sorry I am to see you in your bed! You look right ill, lassie.”

“Aye, Kate has not thrown off a sickness to her chest. These Glasgow fogs have been over much for her,” James told him.

“The bairns are a thought peelie-wallie too,” Rae remarked. “Ye’ll be missing the hills about Culmailie.”

“Indeed we are, Mr Rae,” Kate said huskily.

“How did you find us here?” James asked.

Donald Rae looked rather pleased with himself. “Weel, man, I used my intelligence. Ye were brought up to go to church, so I thought I’d ask a minister or two if they kenned you. A Highland minister was the most likely.”

“Mr McLaren of the Ingram Street Church!” James exclaimed.

“Aye, I was lucky the first shot! He knew you, and what was more he had your address in that wee book o’ his, and when he knew why I was seeking ye, he gave it me willingly. Man, I have brought ye a letter and some money.”

“A letter? Money? Is it from John at Dornoch?”

“It is, indeed! He’s sold your furniture for ye, James, and he’s no’ done badly. It seems a lady in a big house took a fancy to that old blanket kist o’ yours, Mistress Murray. She gave John ten pounds
for it.”

“Ten pounds for my kist that was so old!” Kate exclaimed.

“Aye, mistress. It was because it was so old. An antique, she called it. He didna do badly wi’ your other furniture, either. Nineteen pounds altogether!”

“With what the minister is holding for me, that’s thirty-nine pounds! Why, it’s riches!” James exclaimed.

“In Glasgow it would melt like snow off a dyke and you not in work. Oh, James, let us go back to the Highlands,” Kate implored.

Donald Rae frowned a little. “I would not advise that. There are more and more crofts standing empty and burned in the north.”

“If I stay another winter in Glasgow, I shall die!” Kate cried.

“You have not read your brother’s letter yet. See what he has to say, then I will count out the money to you,” Donald advised.

James opened the letter, scanned it, then read it aloud for Kate.

Dear Brother James,

I hope that this finds you and your family in the best of health.

I sold the furniture at a good price and I have made a list for you of the amount I got for each piece.

Did you find employment in Glasgow? We hear tales that work is hard to come by in the city.

I have a message for you from old Donald McKay of Kildonan who was with the Hudson’s Bay Company in Canada. It is that Canada might be a fine place for a man like you, for it is a good healthy country with a fine soil. The Earl of Selkirk is asking for settlers for the Red River Colony where he has bought land from the Hudson’s Bay Company. He will take a hundred people, men, women and children. He wishes to take families out there. There will be a ship sailing from Stromness in Orkney to take the settlers and the fare will be ten pounds per person and less for children. Will you think of it, James? Donald McKay says he will speak in your favour to the Earl of Selkirk, so I
have asked him to put your name forward. If you do not wish to go, it can be withdrawn.

The burnings and destruction of the crofts continue. It has been bad in Kildonan.

My thoughts are with you and Kate and your children.

Your brother,

John.

“Canada?” James added with doubt in his voice.

“Canada? Is it not a land of ice and snow, with bears and wolves roaming free?” Kate asked.

“True! There is plenty of snow in winter, but grand summers they have. Donald McKay said it could be a wonderful land for farming,” Rae said.

“Bears and wolves!” Davie’s eyes sparkled. “Donald McKay told me how he used to go hunting bears and wolves for their furs. I’d like fine to be a hunter.”

“What about you, my lassie?” Donald Rae smiled at Kirsty.

“I do not know,” she answered honestly. “But if Davie wishes to go, then I would go too.”

“Bravely spoken! It’s a good offer, James. I would think weel before rejecting it,” Rae advised.

“But you said the ship would be sailing from the Orkney Isles. How would we get from here to Stromness?” James asked.

“There is a ship sails from Leith to Stromness. Leith is less than a day’s journey away if you get the carrier to take you in his cart,” Rae told him. “Once you reach Stromness, the rest is easy. You have but to wait for the sailing of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s ship for Canada.”

“But the fares?” James asked. “Our little hoard of money would not cover them, and we should need cattle and tools for farming once we got there.”

“Listen, man! The Earl of Selkirk has arranged for that. He will pay
£20 each year for three years to every man. What is more, he will lend you supplies and tools for a year. You can begin to pay him back when your land begins to yield its crops.”

“That’s fair enough,” James agreed. “But shall we just be tenants of the Earl’s lands? Could the same thing happen there that happened at Culmailie, that we could be turned out?”

“No, James! You will own your land. The Earl will let you buy it at five shillings an acre.”

“My! That would be a bargain!” James was beginning to look interested. “But it’s raising the money for the fares that would bother me.”

“Ah, weel! Let me be paying the money due to you,” Rae said. “There is the nineteen pounds for your furniture and here is ten pounds over and above it.”

“Ten pounds!” James gasped. “Where has that come from?”

“It is from your brother John. He found your mother had money saved in an old stocking hidden in the loft. It came to light after you were away, so he sent you the half of it.”

James looked overcome. “John’s a fine brother!” He turned to Kate. “Weel, Kate, what do you say about Canada?”

“Are there hills in Canada like there were at Culmailie?”

“Aye, Mistress Murray, hills in plenty and grand rivers and lakes teeming with fish, so Donald Mackay said,” Rae told her.

“Fish!” Davie exclaimed. “D’ye hear that, Father?”

“Aye, Davie.” James Murray looked as eager as his son.” It would be grand to have a boat again and the oars in my hands.”

It would be canoes and paddles we’d have there, like the Indians,” Davie replied, his eyes lighting up at the thought.

“Shall we go, Kate?” James asked his wife. “It would be the chance to start a new life. There I could live like a man and no’ have to depend on my children for my bread.”

She looked at him with understanding. “Aye, James, if you wish it, we’ll go.”

Donald Rae gave a chuckle. “It’s as weel ye’ve decided that way, as the Earl of Selkirk has already said he’d accept ye on McKay’s recommendation. There’s nothing to stop ye now.”

A fortnight later the ship from Leith sailed to Stromness harbour with the Murray family aboard. The three-masted
Prince of Wales
belonging to the Hudson’s Bay Company was lying by the quay with some of the settlers already aboard her. It did not take the Murrays long to transfer their bundles on to the ship and to be allotted their bunks. There were a hundred folk bound for the Earl of Selkirk’s new colony on the Red River, many of them families with children. Their leaders were a young man, Archibald McDonald, who had studied medicine, and a doctor, Doctor LaSerre.

At last the
Prince of Wales
set sail for Hudson’s Bay and the Company’s trading post at York Factory. The voyage was likely to be a long and perilous one among the ice floes of the Arctic waters.

With sad eyes the emigrants watched the last of Scotland fall away behind them: first the roofs of Stromness sloping up to the high ground behind; then, as the sails filled under a light easterly breeze, the hills of Hoy faded from blue to purple and were lost in the grey of the sea.

Kate wept silently and Kirsty buried her face against her mother as the land faded from their view. From other watchers on deck came the sound of sobbing, then someone began to sing the 23rd Psalm and the emigrants joined in. Davie took Kirsty by the hand and joined in lustily. When the singing was done, he said, “Come with me, Kirsty,” and led her to the forepeak of the ship which dipped and rose as it breasted each wave. “It is better to look the way we are going than to look back,” he said. “Remember?”

Kirsty held back her tears. “Will Canada be like Culmailie?”

Davie shook his head. “No. There will be no fields and houses where we are going. We shall have to dig the fields ourselves and build our houses with wood out of the forests. And there are these things I shall have to learn; to fire a gun and to paddle a canoe, and to drive a sledge pulled by dogs.”

“What will there be for me to do in that strange land?” Kirsty asked a little doubtfully.

“Plenty!” Davie said confidently. “You’ll have to cook the animals and birds we shall shoot for the pots and make clothes from their skins, and dig a garden to grow potatoes and kail.”

Kirsty pulled a face. “Shall we not get roaming the hills and woods together as we did at Culmailie?”

Davie sensed her disappointment and put an arm across her shoulders. “Listen, Kirsty! As soon as I’ve learned to shoot a gun and handle a canoe, I’ll teach you too. It’s a promise. Haven’t we always done things together? Promise me one thing, though, Kirsty.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’ll never say ‘I wish we had never come,’ no matter how hard things are. When you feel like saying it, think back on the bad life we had in the cotton mill.”

“I’ll do that, Davie, only stick by me.”

“I’ll stick by you, never fear!” Davie promised for his part.
As the ship ploughed her way west by north, the strong winds blew. The hundred passengers were packed below decks, two to a bunk. Families kept together as much as they could. Kirsty shared a bunk with her mother and Davie with his father. There was no privacy except by nailing curtains and sailcloth across their bunks.

Ventilation was poor for portholes had to be closed against the salt spray. Right from the start of the voyage most of the passengers were terribly seasick. They lay in their bunks moaning and retching, Kirsty and her mother among them.

Davie spent most of his time on deck. Everything about the ship was a joy to him. He struck up a friendship with a sailor, Tom Peterson, who taught him how to splice a rope and reef a sail. On board were several members of the Hudson’s Bay Company returning from a visit to Britain. These men did not share the emigrants’ cabins but had their own cabin on deck. Among them was a sturdy bearded man, his face tanned by sun and wind. His good-natured smile attracted Davie.

“Who is that man? He is not one of our people going out to Red River, is he?” Davie, asked Tom.

“No. That’s Robert Finlay. He’s one of the factors of the Hudson’s Bay Company.”

The only factor Davie knew was the hated Patrick Sellar. “Surely that man does not collect rents?” he asked Peter.

Peter laughed aloud. “No’ that kind of factor, laddie! Mr Finlay is in charge of one of the trading posts.”

“Trading posts?”

“Aye. The Indians bring in the furs from the animals they trap and Mr Finlay gives them goods in exchange.”

Davie looked at the tough trader with admiration. “Indians! Furs! Guid sakes! My! I wish I could talk to him!”

Almost as if the wind heard his wish, a sudden gust lifted the trader’s fur cap from his head. Davie was after it like a flash and pounced on it just as it reached the scuppers by the deck rail. He
carried it back to Robert Finlay.

“Well caught, lad! I’m much obliged to you,” Finlay said. “My favourite cap, that!” He looked at Davie’s eager face smiling at him. “Came off the first silver fox I ever trapped,” he told Davie. “Are you one of the emigrant children?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your name, lad?”

“David Murray.”

“You think you’ll like the life in Canada, lad?”

“Oh, yes, sir! Maybe I’ll get a boat or a canoe on the Red River and be able to go fishing.”

“It’ll be a hard tough life, Davie. It won’t be all fishing. You’ll have to work on the land too.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve helped my father before on his farm.”

Just then there was a shout from Tom Peterson who pointed out to sea. A ship was approaching under heavy sail.

“Here comes a whaler!” Mr Finlay exclaimed. “They’ll have been whale hunting in the Davis Strait.”

“How do you know the ship’s a whaler, sir?” Davie asked.

Robert Finlay laughed. “Sniff the wind, lad! The wind’s bringing a smell of whale oil and blubber. There’ll be a right stench aboard.”

“It couldna be worse than the stench below decks on this ship,” Davie remarked candidly. “It’s awful down there with everyone being seasick.”