Page 32 of Glasgow Rogue

Niall shrugged. “Probably another two days.”

“Ye can nae ride for four days wounded! I think ye should stay here,” Annie said. “I can go with whoever is sent to Killin. I will persuade the doctor to come back one way or another.”

“I have nae doubt that ye would.” Niall tried to smile. “But ye heard what his wife said. We cannae risk spreading the typhus. ’Tis too deadly.”

“People die from infected wounds, too,” Annie said. “Ye can nae ride for four days with that festering.”

“Ye are probably right.”

“Good.” Annie gave a relieved sigh. “Then we will stay here.”

“Nae.”

Annie stared at him. “What do ye mean, nae? Has the fever taken hold of ye?”

Niall shook his head. “We will cross to Oban. We can get there by nightfall.”

“And then what?”

“We catch a boat north on Loch Linnhe.”

Annie frowned. “That is nae going to get us to Arisaig.”

“True. But it will get us close to Loch Shiel,” Niall answered. “Bridget’s brother Ian MacLeod has a holding there.”

“And he will welcome ye?”

“Of course. Even if Alasdair were nae Ian’s brother by marriage—which makes him mine in a way—we are in the Highlands now. ’Tis an unwritten code of hospitality that rules.”

“’Tis still a long way to go.” Annie was not totally convinced. “I think we should wait here.”

“Nae. We will nae wait.” Niall said as the doctor’s wife reentered the room with the bread. “We will go.”

“Bossy man,” Annie muttered under her breath. Why wouldn’t he listen to her before he let infection kill him?

****

As the schooner pulled away from the dock in Oban’s harbor early the next morning, Annie was still full of misgivings.

They’d arrived after dark last night and the town’s small apothecary had already closed for the day, its only doctor well into his cups at a local pub.

Annie hadn’t argued with Niall about the futility of getting his thigh looked at.

It was more important they book passage and get to Ian MacLeod’s holding as soon as possible.

They’d been lucky to find a ship setting sail so quickly for Fort William, especially one which had room for their horses in the hold, probably because Captain Vance knew Ian MacLeod of Glenfinnan.

While that might have helped them secure passage, Annie had misgivings about the vessel, too, since everything on it from the timbers of the hull to the deck and masts creaked and groaned as though any minute the whole thing would splinter apart.

She clung to the starboard rail as the ship made its way out of the bay below the cliff on which stood an ancient castle.

It looked as abandoned as she felt. The sails suddenly flapped loudly as the vessel began its turn to the north.

Annie grabbed the rail tighter as the deck seemed to lurch beneath her feet and everything tilted in her direction.

The sea was closing in and for a panicky moment Annie wondered if the boat was going to tip over.

Then a strong arm circled her waist and a large hand covered one of hers.

“Doona fash. The boat is only listing,” Niall said as he moved a step closer so she could brace herself against him.

“’Twill right itself as soon as the sails get adjusted. ”

Annie wasn’t sure about that either. Not only was the boat leaning far to the right, it also seemed to be speeding ahead, slicing through the water, as though the hounds of hell were on its stern. When she said as much to Niall, he chuckled.

“Ye have nae sailed before?”

“Nae.” Annie tried not to look at how close the rail was to the sea. “And I doubt I’ll do it again.”

“Ye’ll get used to it,” Niall answered. “Just wait a minute or two.”

To her surprise, the boat did straighten until she was able to stand with her weight evenly distributed on both feet instead of looking like a fencer without a sword.

But then, the ship started rocking from side to side and she tightened her hold on the rail again. “Is this motion going to continue for the whole trip?”

“That depends on the wind,” Niall said. “Right now, ’tis behind us since the island of Kerrera creates a narrow channel. Once we get into open waters of the Firth of Lorn, ’twill be a different direction.”

“That will stop the rolling motion?” Annie asked.

“Aye. She’ll either heel again or pitch, depending.” Niall gave Annie a sharp look. “Are ye feeling ill?”

She shook her head, not wanting to admit how queasy her stomach was.

He squinted. “Ye are beginning to look a bit green at the gills, lass.”

“I…” Annie swallowed hard. “I will be fine.”

Niall looked unconvinced. “The best thing for ye to do until ye get your legs is to look at the shoreline. It keeps ye from feeling dizzy.”

Annie swallowed again and looked at the passing scenery and the mountains farther inland. The steadiness of the land did seem to help. She turned to Niall and changed the subject. “What are ye doing up here? The doctor’s wife said ye should nae be standing on your leg.”

“She is nae here to see me.”

“’Tis nae the point, is it?” Annie gave an exasperated sigh. “The more ye move around, the more ye aggravate the wound.”

“I will manage,” Niall said and then winced as a sudden lurch of the ship caused him to shift his weight unexpectedly.

“Aye, ye will manage. Now ye are the one looking green…” She stopped as Niall grimaced again. “…or I should say white. Ye look about to faint.”

“I…doona…faint…” Niall said haltingly.

“We need to get ye to your berth.” Annie changed positions and brought Niall’s arm over her shoulder so she could help him walk toward the stern of the ship and the companionway that led below. “And I will hear nae argument from ye.”

“Ye…are…a…stubborn…” Niall didn’t finish the sentence as his legs buckled and he slid onto the deck.

Captain Vance seemed to appear from nowhere. He motioned to two deckhands to assist. “Take Mr. MacDonald to my cabin.” The captain turned to Annie. “Do you know what is wrong with him?”

“Aye. ’Tis a knife wound to his leg.”

He sucked in a breath. “Why the devil—pardon me—did he not say something?”

Annie shook her head. “Because he is too proud to admit he was hurt.”

“Neptune’s bullocks!” This time the captain didn’t bother to apologize for his language.

He turned and barked an order to a sailor standing nearby.

“Get the quartermaster. Tell him to come to my cabin.” As the man hurried away, Captain Vance turned back to Annie.

“We do not have a surgeon on this ship, but our quartermaster has some medical skill. We will see what he says.”

Annie followed the captain below. The quartermaster soon clattered down the ladder, carrying a leather bag, and pushed past her to enter the captain’s quarters.

Since the cabin was too small to accommodate more people, Annie took a seat on one of the empty berths.

The smells from the hold, which included chickens and sheep as well as their horses, nearly choked her and, without benefit of the horizon, the continued roll of the ship was making her queasy again, but she ignored both.

The only person who mattered was Niall. She looked at the closed door. What was taking so long?

Finally…finally…after what seemed like an eon of time, the captain and the quartermaster emerged. Both looked grim and Annie felt an icy fear clench her stomach.

“How is he?”

The quartermaster shook his head. “Mr. MacDonald’s entire leg is infected. He will be lucky to still be alive by morning.”