Page 31 of A Fire in Their Hearts

I THROW MY ARMS AROUND SAMUEL but the unstoppable rush of seawater tears us apart in an instant. I’m stunned by the force of it, powerless to fight back, and instinctively let the current take me, holding my breath, though my chest feels as though it’s being crushed under the weight of a mountain.

When I finally surface, my lungs are on fire and I can do nothing except try to keep above the water and gulp air as frantically as possible.

I’m not too far from shore. Many men are ahead of me, struggling against the waves or wading wearily over the last few yards.

The ship’s crew is spread out thinly along the shoreline, some holding oars to help pull people to safety.

Then a sailor raises an oar, hesitates a moment, and brings it down heavily upon the head of the nearest Covenanter.

The man falls to his knees and is beaten repeatedly until his body disappears under the waves.

I watch in utter disbelief as sailors push defenceless men back into the sea or beat them down where they stand.

Heart-breaking calls for mercy carry across the water even above the roar of the storm.

I’m frozen as much from shock as the cold.

Only death awaits me here. Away left, in the opposite direction to the ship, there is a large projection of rock into the sea.

If I can get beyond that point, then I should be out of sight of the sailors. There is no choice.

I begin swimming and notice that others have the same idea. It’s a desperate battle. The chill in my limbs is frightening, sucking my strength even as I try to swim faster, harder. Someone nearby flounders.

‘Keep going,’ I shout.

‘God help me!’ he cries, and is gone.

By the time I’ve got around the rocks, there are hardly any swimmers remaining, and when I finally crawl up on to the shore I’m too exhausted to do anything but lie there, gasping and crying.

If a sailor came along now he could murder me at his ease.

Shivering violently, I look about. Three – there are just three others.

Where is Samuel? Why isn’t he with me?

One man struggles to sit up. I’ve heard his name before but can’t recall it.

‘We can’t stay here,’ he says.

‘I can’t move,’ says another. It’s clear that he will not even try to get up and we are too weak to help.

‘We need to head away from the ship,’ I say, once I’ve stood and my two companions are on their feet alongside me. We look down at the fourth Covenanter. There is nothing we can do. ‘God bless you.’

We leave, making our way along the beach in search of a track that will take us inland.

Soon we’re shaking so much that it’s difficult even to speak and when we find a likely path we simply nod at each other and carry on.

As we trudge along the intensity of the cold makes us groan as though we’re being tortured.

Increasingly one of us stumbles and gets up only for someone else to fall moments later.

Alan – that’s the man’s name. I’ve heard him call the other Iain.

It’s while waiting for Iain to stand that I see the outline of a building in the distance.

I point and Alan follows the direction of my arm, nodding vigorously.

We all head straight for it, which is a mistake because we end up going across rougher ground.

At one point we fall into a ditch and lie there like drunks so in their cups that they can’t speak or move with any sense.

I’m filled with dread that the building may be a ruin, because we can’t possibly search any further.

As we get close, there is smoke in the air and a dim light behind the curtain at the small window.

Alan kicks the door several times, too exhausted to do anything else.

He’s feebly kicking it again when it opens so suddenly that he almost loses his balance.

‘Dear God above.’ The man takes in our situation in an instant. ‘Get inside.’

He ushers us in before closing the door. Like all such places, it’s basically one room where people sleep, eat and live out their lives. Two figures stare at us, a wife and daughter of about sixteen. It’s the wife who is suddenly alive with orders.

‘You can’t keep those clothes on. Strip everything off. Just do it where you are. Meg, stoke up the fire and reheat the broth. David, fetch blankets and cloths to dry them. Light some more candles. They may be injured and I need to see what I’m doing.’

Neither of my companions has the strength to move, not even to remove their garments. David realises he has to do it for them and they stand like children while a parent undresses them. In my need to survive I hadn’t considered such a scene. My secret is about to be revealed.

The wife studies me for a moment then pulls a blanket out of a nearby box-bed. ‘Come with me, lad.’

She gently takes my arm and leads me a few feet away from the men before unfolding the blanket so that I’m shielded from view. I look at her face and she gives a tiny nod of reassurance, because men see what they expect to while women see what’s there.

‘Meg, come around here and help the lad undress.’

‘Mother?’ The girl sounds shocked by the suggestion.

‘Do it quickly.’

Meg joins me behind the blanket and reluctantly begins to remove my sodden garments.

A few moments later she looks up in surprise at her mother, who replies with a tiny shake of her head.

Women keep each other’s secrets and for now mine is safe.

Meg quickly finishes her task and rubs me vigorously with a large cloth before I’m wrapped in the blanket and sat in an armchair by the fire.

A thick woollen kerchief is draped over me and then another blanket.

Alan is in the armchair opposite, while a wooden chair is brought over for Iain. In the safety and warmth of this house, away from the terror of the storm and the death-pull of the sea, we all begin to cry.

‘Here, get a tot of this into you,’ says David, who has produced a cup containing whisky by the smell of it. He holds it to Alan’s lips.

‘Not too much,’ instructs the wife. ‘They need something hot inside them.’

One by one we take a sip and bend over coughing, uncertain as to whether we are better or worse for taking the liquid, then David stands behind the armchair opposite and starts to massage Alan’s shoulders.

He does it firmly yet with obvious kindness; perhaps this is not the first time that people have arrived at their front door frozen near to death. My head drops suddenly.

‘I know you’re exhausted,’ says the wife, ‘but you mustn’t sleep until you’ve warmed up, otherwise you might not wake. My name’s Grizel. You don’t have to tell us anything about yourselves.’

Grizel starts to rub my shoulders while Meg ladles steaming broth into a bowl and spoonfeeds Iain. We’re shaking too violently to do this ourselves. Soon we are all being fed, slurping noises, groans and words of encouragement competing with each other for a while, until we can eat no more.

Grizel swings the large black kettle over the fire. I can’t keep awake. The last thing I’m aware of is Grizel pouring hot water into a bowl, kneeling by my armchair and gently washing my feet.

*?*?*

The morning’s bright sunshine offers no clue to the horror of the previous night.

It doesn’t seem believable that gulls should cry and sheep should bleat and the world continue around us as if this great tragedy hasn’t occurred.

I sit at the table with Alan and Iain, the three of us still wrapped in blankets.

Our clothes have been washed during the night and hang on a rope outside, flapping wildly in the Orkney wind.

No one has spoken. Iain can barely eat the brose in front of him while Alan is already on to his second helping.

I force mine down, knowing that I have to build up my strength if I am to find Samuel.

Samuel .?.?. my love. Where are you?

He is not drowned. I refuse to believe it.

The door opens and David enters. Everyone stops to look at him.

‘There’s the wreckage of a ship on the rocks at Scarva Taing. The rumour is that it was carrying dangerous convicts to America .?.?.’ He stares at us. ‘.?.?. but I see no dangerous convicts here.’

‘Have many escaped?’ I ask.

‘Bodies have washed up along the shore and they’ll probably continue to do so for days to come. Some will never be given up by the sea and there are probably many still inside the wreck. Apparently about two dozen people have been recaptured. The authorities are searching for others.

‘You may not be safe here and I won’t throw you out. However, I won’t put my family at risk either. If they come, I’ll say that you told us you were fishermen and we had no reason to believe otherwise. To us, you were near-drowned men needing help and as good Christians we couldn’t turn you away.’

His comment is as much question as statement and requires an answer. We nod to show we’ll stick to the same tale.

‘That’s agreed then.’

*?*?*

It’s late morning. Behind the house there’s a dyke with a small stream that runs out to sea and a secluded spot where people relieve themselves.

I’m dressed in my rags, but Grizel has given me a thick woollen jumper.

It’s old and patched but a very welcome addition.

I can’t believe I will ever feel warm again.

I’m pulling up my breeches when Grizel comes into sight, crouching and moving as fast as she can.

‘Sailors! Four of them and as mean-looking as I’ve ever seen. David is arguing that they have no right to enter his home, but he’s not going to be able to keep them out. Your friends are stuck inside and will be found straight away. Here, get this on.’

Grizel has brought a coat, so worn that the Orcadian wind will likely pass through it without noticing, but it’s better than nothing.

‘I can’t leave them,’ I say.

‘You can’t help them. Look, follow the dyke to those rocks and then go up the hill. When you get to those bushes, you can easily keep yourself hidden while watching what happens around the house.’

I hug her, realising how much I’ve missed being able to hug someone. ‘Thank you.’

‘Head south-west. You’re probably safest in the town of Kirkwall, where strangers are not uncommon. I must get back. God’s speed.’

We go our separate ways and soon I’m climbing the small hill, quickly out of breath with the exertion.

When I reach the bushes, I lie down. There’s no sign of anyone; the sailors must have gone inside and I pray our saviours will be spared any violence.

It’s not long before Alan and Iain are brought out, their hands bound behind their backs.

One sailor starts pushing them away as the other three begin searching near the house.

For a moment I’m frozen with indecision, then I pull myself around on my elbows and crawl as quickly as possible further up the hill.

Every single second, I expect to hear shouts behind me as I’m completely exposed, yet I reach the top undiscovered and roll down the other side until it’s safe enough to stand.

Frantically, I scan the area for potential hiding places.

There are no woods, in fact no trees anywhere.

The landscape is open and the only place is a tumbled-down building a few hundred yards away.

I stumble towards it, realising that it’s too obvious and they’ll surely search it.

I’m shaking by the time I reach the remnants of walls and piles of stone.

They’ll find me easily.

A short distance away is a ditch. It’s shallow but I’m thin and instinctively head for it.

There is one spot that’s deep enough for me to lie in and be out of sight from someone merely glancing over from the ruin.

There’s no other option, so I lie face down, hugging the earth.

It’s only minutes later when I hear voices.

‘And I’m telling you there’s more nearby. I can smell them, filthy Covenanters!’

‘You and your nose!’

I hear them moving about the ruin, muttering curses and threats of what they’ll do to anyone they find.

After several minutes it goes quiet. I barely breathe lest they hear the air moving into my lungs.

They must surely hear my heart, for it’s almost bursting out of my chest. Yet there’s nothing from them.

I lie, waiting for a sound or a voice to indicate where they are.

Nothing. They must have moved on quietly.

I remain motionless for so long without hearing anything that eventually I risk carefully raising my head.

Feet! There are feet by my head!

I’m suddenly lifted bodily out of the ditch.

‘Here we are!’ says one. All three sailors are laughing. ‘We had bets on how long it would take you to look up.’

Everything happens so quickly. Two of them roughly hold my arms while the third one punches me in the stomach so hard that I almost pass out from the pain and shock.

‘I knew I could smell one,’ he says.

I’m only vaguely aware of being hauled upright. Then the man who says he has a nose for Covenanters pulls back his arm. This time his fist heads straight for my face.