The Whaler's Treasure

Chapter Seven, Scene 2

The sound of music floated up from the valley and into the gap in the hills through which Rob rode, tired and achy on a borrowed horse. There was little call for riding on Nantucket and less on a whaler. Every bone in his body protested the unaccustomed motion. When his companion trotted up beside him on a little pony, he pulled his complacent mount to a halt, grateful for a rest. They had followed the Spey to Fochabers, past the current Duke of Gordon's highland stronghold, and set out over the hills two days before.


"Ye hear it? That would be Dougal and his fiddle," Alec said rising in his stirrups. "Look. There! Do you see that croft? That be my Gran's. My cousin Finn owns t'other up the rise beyond and—"


"Whoa. Not so much. You can introduce me later," Rob said.
His artist's eye examined the vista below, trying to absorb this place Beth called home. The hills to the east lay in shadow with a lemon yellow sun hovering above them. They would, he knew, turn golden when that sun rose higher and began to sink below the hills to Rob's back. Between the mountains a lush valley spread out in so many shades of green that he regretted not having more words for the color, and his finger itched for his paints. He realized, with a flash of memory, it looked very much like Settler's Notch, a valley he had painted one summer in Vermont.


Signs of habitation came to him. Grey lines marked off color changes—stone walls, he expected—and clusters of white shapes moved here and there, sheep no doubt. He could just make out a handful of stone buildings scattered far and wide, including the one Alec called Gran's.


"Do you see it?" Alec asked again, puzzled at his distraction.


"I see it." Smoke rose from a chimney of the little house, the warmth and welcome of it called to him. He nudged his horse forward and Alec gleefully rode ahead.


They approached a farmyard bustling with activity and flowing with conversation. Rob hung back, leaned on the pommel of his saddle, and watched person after person greet Alec with a smile, a slap on the back, or sometimes a hug. The fiddler dropped his bow and grinned at the boy before taking up his music, a jauntier tune this time.


A grey haired woman, tall and erect, approached Alec with open arms and engulfed him in a loving embrace, the like of which Rob would bet his share of the cargo that the boy had never gotten from his own mother. Alec wiggled free to drag the woman toward Rob who slipped off his horse to await the introduction.


"This is Captain Thorpe, Gran. I'm a member of his crew," Alec crowed standing a bit taller.


The woman cast a sharp-eyed glance at her grandson and back to Rob. Good manners won out. "Welcome and well met, Captain Thorpe. There's a story here I vow. I'll hear it later. Come sit. You must be hungry from your journey."


With a glint in her eye she gave Alec a pointed warning. "We'll sort out this 'crew' business after." She drew the boy and their guest toward a table.


Food, drink, and an onslaught of welcomes overwhelmed Rob. He met the apparent guest of honor, Father McPhee, 'th' priest from down Aberdeen,' being chief among them. McPhee greeted him politely before one of the women drew him into a conversation about services and sacrament. The priest raised a rueful eyebrow and excused himself politely.


Dougal, Morag, Finn, Alice, Douggie—cousins all. The introductions came faster than Rob's ability to do more than nod and murmur thanks. He couldn't remember one from the other a moment after he met them. It didn't help that he darted glances here and there to search for familiar auburn hair. He found plenty of it on the cousins but none atop the shining eyes he longed to see.


Where is Beth?


Wherever she was, she didn't seem to be in Gran's yard. His eyes wandered toward the house and back down to the meal set before him in disappointment. He took a shuddering breath, raised his tankard of ale, and glanced up to see Gran peering at him intensely. He forced a smile.


"Is the stew not to yer liking, Captain?" she asked.


"On the contrary, it tastes as good as than any I've ever had. I'm weary 'tis all."


She raised a skeptical eyebrow, but let it pass. "What have you to do with my grandson," she demanded.


Eyes the same sea blue as Beth's held his, the same pride and intelligence looked back at him. He didn't dare try to cozen this woman.
"He came to us and begged us to take him aboard. His mother—" Rob stuttered, studying the woman for signs of distress. He met strength and went on. "Welts covered his back and bruises his shoulder. Someone had to protect him." He concluded. "We signed him. He doesn't know she took 200 pounds to let him go and not contest the contract."


Gran shook her head, lips pinched in grief. "She's gotten worse, has Janice. My son kept her under control but since he died..." she shrugged. "Vicious witch. Thank you for looking after 'im."


"We'll treat him well," he assured her. "If you know about Janice then do you know—"


"What she says about Alec's sister? Aye. Lies all of it. Alice was a true and loving wife to my son who'd never give another man a look. And the auld duke? May have betrayed that evil wife of his, but he was faithful to Jane Christie. Married her when the duchess died, dint he? My granddaughter—" she broke off abruptly and raked Rob from crown to table top with her shrewd eyes.


He swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to tell her he knew Beth to be a respectable girl, but faltered. He reached in his pocket instead, pulled out the rosary, and set it on the table. "I came to return this to her," he said.


The old woman's sight misted over. Whatever he expected, it wasn't that. She fingered the green granite beads carefully. "My husband gave me this on our wedding day," she said, her voice thick and hoarse. "I gave it to Beth in hopes—"
She stopped abruptly, blinked to clear her vision, and leaned over. Her stormy eyes pierced him to the heart.


"Tell me Captain Thorpe: are you the reason my Elsbeth moped about my house like her dog vanished and the hens quit laying this past week or more?"