“Lass, that’s not wise.”
“I don’t care.”
“Use your head.”
“According to Georgina, I don’t want to be known for my brain. She claims beauty is better because men see better than they think.”
He began to chuckle, then laughed out loud. “I think in Eachann’s case that might be true.” He was still laughing. “I can’t be with you now, Amy-my-lass. I have work to do. I can’t be taking care of you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
His look was disbelieving. “Like you did in the cave and just now when you were sick?”
“I’ll help.”
“You’ll help,” he repeated without inflection.
“I can help you. Just tell me what to do.”
“I can’t, lass. Not now. I need to get topside. Will can’t handle this boat alone along the stretch of coast that’ll be coming soon. We’ll be in Bath soon. I have to make certain those people on that ship are fed and clothed and have safe transportation to their land.
“Can I come with you? I want to know how all this started. What exactly it is you do. I want to watch. I want to help. I feel so, so worthless. If I can help someone, then perhaps I... well, I don’t know exactly what, Calum, but I do know I need something to do.”
He stood there for a long time, as if he needed to come to some decision, then he crossed the room, turned a small latch in the wall and pulled down a desktop with a drawer hidden behind it. He rummaged through and took out a leather-bound book that looked like a journal.
He handed it to her. “Here. When you’re feeling better, you can read this. It will tell more about what I do than I can.”
She took the journal and watched him walk to the companionway.
He stopped and looked back at her. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better. You were right about the crackers. Thank you.”
He nodded at a small metal tank across the room. “There’s water in there if you need it.”
“Actually what I need right now isn’t more water. I need to rid myself of some.”
He laughed and pointed to another cabinet. “The necessary is in there.”
She flushed, then muttered, “Thank you.”
He turned and opened the door to leave, but turned back around. “Why didn’t you just ask if you could come with me?”
“Would you have taken me?”
“No.”
“That’s why.”
He just shook his head and left the cabin.
She opened the journal and first skimmed through the pages. On the first pages there were newspaper clippings and editorials pasted to the pages. She began to read the first one.
We have been pained beyond measure for some time past to see in our streets so many unfortunate Highland emigrants, apparently destitute. Their last shilling is spent to reach this new land, where they are reduced to begging. Their case is made worse by their ignorance of the English tongue. Of the hundreds of Highlanders in and around the city at present, perhaps not a half dozen understand anything but Gaelic. We may assist these poor creatures for a time, but charity will not keep so many for very long. Winter is approaching and then what? Are they to starve and freeze in the streets?
Amy felt sick. This was a terrible thing that was happening. She read on, each article more horrific than the last. Then the pages in the book were handwritten. In Calum’s own hand there were journal entries of what he had seen. What he felt. His experiences.
I saw a funeral today. A long line of Highland emigrants walked down the silent street. On their shoulders that were bony and narrow with starvation was a small coffin, not much bigger than a cradle. It was a child’s coffin, made of crude material, rough boards that looked like the kind of old splintered wood planks that were left to rot along the dockside. Children followed the mournful train, and when asked, they told of their friend, the small eight-year-old boy who had in healthier and happier times played with them in their native glens.
