CHAPTER XXI

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.