Doctor Who: The Highlanders (12 page)

‘Nay,’ said Kirsty, puzzled.

Polly looked at him a little suspiciously. ‘And that’s all there is to it, Ben?’

‘Almost all,’ said Ben.

‘Huh,’ Polly sniffed. ‘I bet.’

They turned as the Doctor emerged from one of the stalls, now dressed in his own clothes again. He was brushing at his coat a little anxiously, obsessed by a couple of new stains that had appeared on the already well worn sleeve.

‘Oh, you got your own clothes back,’ said Polly.

The Doctor nodded, indignantly. ‘Can you imagine! I found them thrown out on the rubbish heap behind the inn!’

‘Yeah,’ said Ben drily, ‘amazing, ain’t it.’

Polly smiled slyly and winked at the others. ‘I liked you best in your dress, Doctor.’

The Doctor turned and clapped his hands, calling them around him. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘do we all know what we’ve got to do? Ben?’

Ben nodded. ‘I take you out to the ship in the rowing boat, paddle around the other side and, while they’re sorting you out, I hand in the weapons through the porthole.’

Polly frowned and shook her head. ‘While Kirsty and I just sit here waiting for you to get back – if you ever do?

Nothing doing!’

‘Aye,’ said Kirsty, and the Doctor noted with amusement she was picking up some of Polly’s independence, ‘we’ve done enough waiting.’

‘It may be dangerous,’ said the Doctor, ‘they may not swallow my ploy.’

‘Aye,’ said Ben, ‘and they may stop me in the boat, even with this on.’ He pulled a large tam-o’-shanter from the clothes pile and pulled it over his head. It covered most of his face as well. The others laughed.

‘There,’ said Polly, ‘you’ll get into terrible trouble without us, eh Kirsty?’

Kirsty nodded firmly. ‘Aye, terrible.’

The Doctor looked from one to the other. ‘All right,’ he said, giving in, ‘you and Kirsty come with us in the boat.’

He looked at Kirsty. ‘You could be rather useful at that.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ said Ben.

‘I’ve got a better idea for you,’ said the Doctor.

In the hold there was one dim lantern containing a single candle, throwing out a faint light that hardly penetrated over the sleeping Highlanders to a small group at the far end by the porthole.

Colin, Willy and Jamie were still very much awake and conferring while their fellow prisoners slept.

‘I canna believe it,’ said Willy in disgust. ‘They played right into Grey’s hands. My own crew amongst them.’

‘Ah, can you blame them,’ said Colin. ‘A poor choice –

the gallows or the plantations. A man will clutch at any straw to save his neck.’

‘What will they do with us?’ said Jamie.

Colin sighed. ‘I’m afraid they’ll make an example of us.

Like that poor deserter friend of yours. Once Trask gets away to sea –’

Willy broke in. ‘He’ll no let me live, that’s aye certain.

Ah wheel, better a fast death than a slow lingering one under the overseers. I’ve nae regrets, ye ken.’

‘If I could but see my Kirsty again, I’d die content,’ said Colin. He leaned back against the porthole, his eyes closing, the wound still throbbing in his shoulder.

In the cabin, Grey and Perkins were completing their final accounts in a black leather-covered ledger.

‘That makes a total of three and a half thousand guineas.

You’ll collect it in gold on delivery of the prisoners, and render strict accounting to me,’ Grey turned to Perkins. ‘Is that quite clear?’

Perkins nodded, rubbing his hands. ‘Yes, Mr Grey sir, very clear. You may trust me to the death, sir.’

Grey pulled out a watch from his waistcoat and looked at it. ‘It’s very late,’ he said, ‘I must return ashore. I shall expect you in London by the end of October.’ He rose.

‘Keep a close eye on our Mr Trask, I do not trust him.’

As he spoke, there was a sudden commotion on the deck over their heads – a stamping of feet, and Trask’s rough voice calling out some commands.

The next instant, the cabin door creaked open and Trask entered, followed by two sailors holding the Doctor by the arm.

Trask turned to the solicitor. ‘We’ve got company, Mr Grey. Caught him coming over the side – bold as a Welsh pirate.’

The Doctor bowed. ‘Delighted to meet you again, Solicitor.’

Grey stared over at him, and smiled grimly. ‘You may not be as delighted when we part company this time, Doctor.’

The Doctor grimaced. ‘If you’ll tell these good fellows to let go of my arms, I have a small token for you.’

Grey leaned back in his chair on the bench. ‘I haven’t forgotten the last one.’ He turned to the sailors. ‘All right, let him go.’

Trask, meanwhile, had been looking from one to the other, trying to make out what was going on. Now he intervened. ‘Let me have him. I’ll soon change his tune.’

Grey turned. ‘Silence!’ he said, sharply. Then, to Perkins, ‘Perkins, shut the door.’ He turned back to the Doctor. ‘Well, go on.’

The Doctor carefully smoothed his shabby coat down and winced slightly as he rubbed his arm, now free from the rough grasp of the sailors. He then slowly patted his pockets in turn. ‘Now, let’s see,’ he said, ‘where did I put it? Uh... not this one’ – he felt his top left-hand pocket – ‘I think I transferred it to this one...’ He felt on the right side.

‘Ah, no... no, no, that one.’ Eventually he dug deep down into his right-hand tail pocket, and with triumph brought out something in his closed fist and held it out. As his fingers extended, Grey, Perkins and Trask, who had leaned forward to see the contents of the Doctor’s hand, saw – a conker. ‘Here,’ said the Doctor – and then looked at it in dismay. ‘Oh, no...’

Trask leaned forward, seized the Doctor’s lapels, and lifting him off his feet, held him against the bulkhead.

‘Why, ye scurvy bilge rat.’

Grey, also rose, his eyes daggers. ‘I suggest you find whatever you’re looking for, Doctor, before I leave you to the tender mercies of Mr Trask.’

The Doctor, meanwhile, had his hand in his left-hand tail pocket, and nodded, frightened. ‘I’ve got it, got it,’ he said.

Trask released him, and the Doctor brought out Kirsty’s ring and placed it on the table.

Grey glanced down at it. ‘If this is another of your humours, Doctor...’

‘Look at the seal,’ said the Doctor.

Closely watched by Perkins and Trask, Grey held the ring up under the suspended cabin lantern, then reacted in surprise. ‘The Stuart arms!’ he said.

‘Well, Mr Grey?’ said the Doctor.

‘Where did you get this?’

The Doctor drew himself up proudly. ‘From the hand of Prince Charles himself.’

There was a gasp from the other three men in the cabin.

‘Where?’ said Grey.

‘In prison,’ said the Doctor.

Grey shook his head. ‘I don’t follow you.’

‘It’s quite easy,’ said the Doctor. ‘The Prince disguised himself as a Highlander and was taken prisoner with the rest of the rebels.’

Despite himself, Grey’s steely eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. ‘And where is he now?’

The Doctor started twiddling his thumbs. ‘I wonder what that information would be worth. Let’s see now...’ He raised his hand and started counting on his fingers.

Trask gave a sudden growl, his hand going to his cutlass, and pulled it out of his sheath. ‘Leave him to me,’

he said, ‘I’ll burn it out of him.’

‘No,’ Grey stopped him. ‘What do you think it’s worth, Doctor?’ he said, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

The Doctor looked up at the deck head for a moment before replying. ‘Shall we say...’ he finished his computation, ‘... ten thousand guineas, yes?’

Meanwhile outside, Kirsty and Polly, their oars carefully muffled to avoid making a sound, had rowed across the firth and were now scraping against the side of the brig.

Kirsty stood up and looked through the small porthole.

She turned back to Polly and shook her head. ‘Not this one,’ she said, ‘it must be the one further round.’

Polly, grasping the rough timbers of the brig, started pulling the boat further round towards the other porthole from which a faint light was shining.

‘Right,’ whispered Kirsty.

Polly leaned over the bow and grasped one of the Brig’s securing lines stretched out to a nearby buoy, and held the boat alongside the hull.

Kirsty stood on one of the thwarts and gazed through the porthole. Inside, Jamie and Willy had dozed off. Colin, his wound still throbbing, was leaning back beside the porthole, in a dream between waking and sleeping. He heard a voice that seemed to come from his thoughts, which were back with his family in the beautiful glen they called home.

‘Father. Father. Father,’ the voice called.

Colin, still in his dreams, smiled. He imagined his lovely young Kirsty running along the path to welcome him home. ‘My child,’ he called.

Kirsty’s voice came through a little more urgently.

‘Father, listen to me.’

Colin nodded, still in his dream. ‘I see you, Kirsty.’

‘Ye canna,’ the voice said, ‘I’m out here.’

‘Aye.’ Suddenly Colin came to and snapped up. ‘Och, I must be dreaming.’ He looked around him wildly. ‘Kirsty!’

he called.

Kirsty’s voice came through the porthole.

‘Whist, Father,’ she said, ‘keep your voice down.’

‘Where are ye?’ Colin said.

‘In a boat,’ said Kirsty, ‘outside here.’

Colin turned, looked out of the porthole, and put his hand through to clasp Kirsty’s soft one. ‘My Kirsty.’ Colin was in tears. ‘Are you well, child? You’ve come to no harm?’

Kirsty nodded, also unable to keep the tears from her eyes. ‘I’m aye fine. And ye, Father?’

‘Much better,’ Colin whispered, ‘a world better for hearing your voice, child. But you canna stay here. They’ll find ye.’

‘Then quickly, Father,’ said Kirsty, ‘take this.’

She passed him a pistol through the porthole and Colin pulled it in, amazed. ‘It’s a miracle. I must be in a dream.’

‘Nae dream, Father,’ Kirsty’s voice came through, ‘we have arms for all of you, and a plan. Now come closer.’

Colin put his ear to the porthole. ‘Listen to me.’

15

Grey glanced meaningfully over at Perkins, then looked back to the Doctor. ‘You drive a hard bargain Doctor, but no matter. We agree. Now where is the Prince?’

‘The very last place you’d think to look for him,’ said the Doctor.

‘Well?’

‘Right here on this ship.’ The listening men broke away in disbelief.

Trask reached for his sword hilt again. ‘Let me have him,’ he said.

Grey’s thin mouth curled. ‘A dangerous jest, Doctor.’

The Doctor nodded eagerly. ‘Did you mark the young Highlander with me? The piper?’

‘Piper?’ Grey tried to remember, then shook his head.

‘With soft hands and face. Did you notice his hair?’ He looked around. First Trask, then Grey, then Perkins all shook their heads. ‘Unmistakable,’ the Doctor went on.

‘He is the Prince.’

Despite themselves, the others were now carried along by the Doctor’s earnest manner, which was in such contrast to his former flippancy.

Grey leaned forward once more, his eyes searching the Doctor’s face. ‘You had better be very sure.’

‘Would I have come here and placed my life in your hands if I had not been very sure?’ said the Doctor, his green eyes wide open, projecting the child-like candour he could turn on when he wanted to.

Trask, anyway, was convinced. He slammed his hand on the table, then swung towards the door. ‘We’ll smell out the Pretender right now, by heaven.’

Grey nodded. ‘Perkins,’ he said. But Perkins needed no further bidding. He followed Trask to the door.

‘One moment,’ said the Doctor, ‘aren’t you forgetting something?’

Grey turned back. ‘What?’

‘I’m the only one here who knows what he looks like.’

‘He’s right,’ said Perkins. The others looked back suspiciously for a moment and then Grey nodded his head.

‘Then come you with us. Hurry!’

With Trask’s hand on his arm, the Doctor was pulled out of the cabin.

Down below in the hold, all was apparently as before.

Colin, Jamie and Willy seemed as deeply asleep as the other men, all wrapped in their long tartan plaids. The door at the top of the companionway creaked open and Trask appeared holding a lantern. He started climbing down quietly, followed by Grey, Perkins, the Doctor and two armed sailors.

As they assembled at the bottom of the ladder, Grey held his hand to his lips. ‘Proceed softly,’ he said. ‘If they suspect whom we’re searching for and know to be here, we’ll have a riot on our hands.’

Holding the lantern high, they started to move forward across the crowded deck, examining the faces of the sleeping men as they went. As Trask held his lantern above the Highlanders, the Doctor examined each one in turn, shaking his head and leading them further and further towards the far end of the hold.

‘Well, Doctor?’ came Grey’s impatient whisper. ‘Is there no sign of him?’

‘Perhaps he’s further over,’ said the Doctor. He pointed to the far side of the room where Colin and Jamie could be made out by the porthole. ‘That looks like him over there.’

Not liking his tone, Grey’s voice dropped into a silky menace. ‘If you’ve made a mistake, Doctor.’

‘No,’ said the Doctor, ‘that is him, there!’ He pointed over to Jamie, his voice raised, just as the entire floor came to life.

‘
Creag an tuire
.’ Jamie’s high pitched voice rang over the room as the Highlanders leapt to their feet – swords, pistols and muskets at the ready.

‘No firearms, lads,’ Colin called, but his advice was unnecessary. As the two sailors turned to run for the companionway, they found a dozen swords at their throats.

Grey, Perkins and Trask were similarly surrounded. Only Trask, pulling his large cutlass, made a fight for it at the far end, cutting down the Highlander opposite him. Swinging the huge cutlass back and forth, he cleared a path for himself until his back was against the wall.

‘You’ll not get Henry Trask alive,’ he called.

The Highlanders drew back until Willy came forward, holding his lantern. ‘I dinna want ye alive, Trask,’ said Willy.