Far Horizons (27 page)

“I'm travelling incognito,” Simpson replied. “I find it's easier when I'm recruiting.”

“Recruiting? From what I've heard, you've been letting men go.”

Simpson's smile widened. “You keep your ear to the ground, I see.”

Allan shrugged. “Storefront gossip.”

“Yes, I am letting men go, all the lazy, shiftless ones who weren't earning their wage. I'm looking now for strong men, capable men. Men without ties. Do you think you might be one of them?”

Allan paused, his mug halfway to his lips. “Why do you think that?”

“I don't, not yet. I'm merely asking.”

Allan looked away. Was it that obvious that he was alone in the world? He certainly felt it at that moment. “I'm a farmer,” he said at last.

“Most men are, till they become something else. Fur traders, explorers... adventurers.” Simpson smiled easily. “But I'm not here to pressure you. There are plenty of men to be had. I just thought you looked the type.”

“The type? For what?”

“For adventure. Someone who is willing to take a risk, but not a foolish one. I'm staying at the boarding house by the harbour tonight. If you want to talk more, I'll be there till dawn tomorrow. I rise early.” With one last fleeting smile, his manner friendly but his eyes sharp, Simpson left the table.

It was late afternoon now and Allan knew Archie would be arriving any moment. In his last letter, he'd arranged to meet at the public house, yet Allan suddenly was loath to meet his brother in that smoky room, with him hunched over his ale.

He left the house and walked along the pier, breathing in the cold, fresh air and looking for his brother. Even though it was mid April there was a bite to the air, and dark clouds loomed ominously on the horizon.

Allan scanned the road for Archie’s rangy figure, hoping his brother would arrive soon. He didn't relish a crossing in the stormy darkness. Even though the ice had broken up some weeks ago, early spring crossings could still be dangerous.

“Allan!'

Allan turned to see Archie striding towards him, smart as ever in his uniform. His eyes were bright, his cheeks red with cold, and he was smiling widely. He clapped Allan on the shoulder before enveloping him in a quick, surprising hug. “Here you are! Ah, but I've missed you! How is Mother? And Father? To think we'll all be together again soon, and Margaret and Rupert as well, if I read Father's last letter aright.”

“They're well.” Allan gazed at his brother. Army life clearly suited Archie. He looked brimming with life and happiness. “You seem well also.”

“I am! I've found my calling, I should think. Of course, we haven't seen much action in Three Rivers. Mostly patrols, a few skirmishes with the natives. The soldiers get restless, and go looking for a fight.” Archie shrugged. “I won't talk of army affairs. It's dull work to a farmer, eh?”

“Not at all.”

“You haven't been suffering on the farm, have you?” Archie suddenly turned serious. “You know, I never meant to thwart your ambitions with my own.”

Allan stared at him for a moment. He thought he knew what Archie was feeling. Full of his own happiness, unwilling for it be tainted by past sins or regrets. He shrugged. “How could they?” he replied lightly. “Our ambitions have always been separate, as are we. Now we'd best hurry, for I don't like the look of those clouds. There's a small boat leaving within the hour.”

The clouds continued to boil on the horizon, turning darker and more menacing as a brisk, biting wind began to blow. The boat crossing to the island was indeed a small craft, and Archie didn't relish the journey.

“No.” Archie looked at the boat and shook his head. “It's not safe, that. It reminds me...” He swallowed painfully. “I put you in jeopardy once before, because of my own foolhardiness. I won't do it again. The mail packet leaves tonight. Let's share a meal together, and take it on the evening tide. We'll get back late, but it's safer.”

“I see you've changed, what with your soldiering,” Allan said after a moment.

Archie nodded. “Aye, I have. There's enough risk involved in the Army. I won't take needless ones here.”

“Very well, then. The public house does a good game pie.”

It was only after they'd eaten, and were returning to the harbour for the mail packet, that Allan's thoughts became clear.

He'd listened to Archie chatter on about Army life for over an hour, had seen the new enthusiasm and zeal glowing in his eyes, and realised he no longer felt any bitterness. How could he blame Archie for his own shortcomings? No one had forced him to stay at his father’s farm, taking orders. No one had tied him to the plow, except perhaps himself.

He’d been angry for so long, blaming Sandy, Archie, even Harriet. Now Allan realised with a sudden, piercing clarity that the only person to blame was, and had always been, himself. He should have stood up to his father long ago, or he should have left. He’d hid behind honour and duty, had let himself be led, and be miserable, waiting for a time when things might change.

Now there was nothing left to wait for.

“Ah, here it is.” Archie stopped in front of the mail packet, and turned back to Allan. Whatever he'd been planning to say died on his lips as he saw the expression on his brother's face. “Allan?”

“Go on, Archie.” Allan spoke roughly, his voice clogged with sudden, unshed tears. “Give Mother and Father my love, and tell them I'll be back one day. But for now... I have to go on my own, this time.” He clasped Archie briefly before stepping away. Archie stared at him in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

Allan smiled. It was easy, now the decision was made. “I'm not going with you.”

*****

Harriet stood on the deck of
The Pride of Scotland
and watched has her homeland became a faint green smudge. Rupert stood next to her, his face unexpectedly solemn.

He'd been full of boyish excitement for this journey, yet now Harriet suspected the enormity of their leave taking was finally taking its toll on him... and her.

The last few weeks had been a blur of activity as she prepared for departure, packing only two small trunks of clothes, and a few sentimental items. It broke her heart to leave her pianoforte behind, but she could hardly haul it all the way to the new world, especially when she didn't even know what her reception was likely to be.

Two days ago David had wed Jane MacCready in a small but joyous ceremony. Harriet had stood in the village kirk and realised with a sudden pang that her father had found love again. She was happy for him, and yet his new life with Jane made her realise all the more that there was no place for her there any longer.

There had been other farewells too... Harriet did not like to remember the look of hurt on Andrew’s face when she told him she was breaking their betrothal. Even though he'd betrayed her, she still had felt pity for the man.

“You can't do this, Harriet,” he said desperately as they stood in the drawing room of Lanymoor House. “It's such a fleeting thing, too small to matter! I'd make you a good husband, I know I would, if only you'd forgive me...”

“I'm sure you would make me a good husband, Andrew,” Harriet said gently. “But the truth of the matter is I love Allan, and I mean to find him. Now that my father is planning to marry...”

“You don't mind losing Achlic!” Andrew finished, his face twisted with bitterness. “I know you were only marrying me to keep that wretched farm.”

It was true, and Harriet had made no secret of it, but she could still understand his hurt. “Goodbye, Andrew.”

“I hope you find him,” Andrew said bitterly. “Then you'll realise what you've thrown away here.”

The other farewells had been far more poignant. Harriet had embraced Margaret, wishing her well in her wait for her sailing master.

Eleanor, who at nearly thirteen was fast turning into a young woman, threw her arms around Harriet and clung to her, though she stoically refused to shed any tears.

“When Allan and I are set up, I'll send for you,” Harriet promised. Even though Eleanor had not said anything, she knew that the young girl felt adrift in this new order of things. “You'll like the new world,
cridhe
, I'm sure of it.”

“How would you know,” Eleanor replied with a little smile, “when you've never seen it yourself!”

True enough, Harriet thought now. There were so many unknowns. As she gazed at the horizon, she could understand how sailors of old thought they would fall off the edge if they sailed too far. That was a bit how she felt... like she was falling off the edge of her known, comfortable world.

The Pride of Scotland
was a cargo ship, and Harriet and Rupert were among only a handful of passengers. When they'd boarded the ship's captain had greeted them, politely expressing only faint surprise at a young woman and boy travelling alone.

“Are you meeting someone in the new world, Miss Campbell?”

“Yes, my fiancé.” Allan was her fiancé, or the closest she had to one now, even if he didn't realise it at the moment.

“A brave man, to allow his beloved to travel so far and so long alone,” the captain commented dryly.

Harriet lifted her chin. “My fiancé is working hard to prepare for my arrival, Captain, and I assure you I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Besides,” Rupert piped up, “I can look after her as well.”

The Captain glanced at thirteen year old Rupert, still scrawny, and smiled. “Yes, I can see Miss Campbell has quite the protector,” he said, the amused affection taking any sting out of his words.

How different it would have--
should
have been, Harriet could not help but think sadly.She'd imagined this voyage many times, but it had always been with Allan at her side, the two of them newly married and full of hope. Instead, she travelled alone, save Rupert, going towards an unknown country... and an unknown welcome.

Rupert must have felt some of her worry, for he put his hand on her arm. “We ought to get ready for supper, Harriet. We're dining with the Captain tonight.”

Harriet smiled and ruffled his hair. “Right you are, then. Let's return below stairs.”

Since the ship was not really equipped for passengers, they were required to share one small cabin. Rupert had gallantly rigged up a blanket between the berths to provide a modicum of privacy. Still, as Harriet changed her dress and washed her face and hands, she wondered how they would manage for five or six weeks. She knew they were fortunate, far more so than most of the immigrants who journeyed to new lands and hopes in crowded, disease ridden accommodations. Still, she looked forward to when their journey would reach an end, even as she dreaded that day.

As the ship travelled on, the days seemed to blur into one another. Harriet spent most of her time walking the deck when the air was fresh, or else in their cabin reading one of the few books she'd brought. She'd also brought Allan's letters, the ones Andrew had kept from her and the ones he'd written to her back on Ardnamurchan. She treasured the words of love and promise, and reading them once more helped to buoy her hope that Allan would forgive her and love her once again when they arrived in Scotia.

Rupert grew restless with the smallness of their cabin and company, and befriended a few of the sailors who taught him how to make knots and other seafaring tricks. Watching Rupert, Harriet felt a sudden longing for Ian. It was nearly six months since he'd left on
The Allegiance
, and she had no idea where he travelled, or even if he was well.

After nearly six weeks of sailing, they finally came in sight of land. Harriet and Rupert both stood on the deck to watch as the coast of Nova Scotia came closer, even though there was a steady drizzle. Harriet did not mind the rain which dampened her face as if with tears, and turned her hair into a mass of unruly curls beneath her bonnet. Finally--finally! They were in sight of the new world, and in reach of Allan.

Instinctively Rupert reached for Harriet's hand, and Harriet smiled down at him. Taking a deep breath, she nodded towards the rugged coastline. “Here we are, Rupert. This shall be home now, for both of us.”

It seemed to take an age for the ship to be steered into the harbour and for their trunks to be unloaded. Finally they stood on solid ground, amidst a stream of humanity, trunks piled at their feet and the strange, forbidding landscape rising up all around them. Even though Harriet was used to the formidable mountains and glens of her homeland, the dense, impenetrable forest of Nova Scotia gave her pause. How, she wondered, could anyone think they could tame this wild land?

“What should we do now, Harriet?” Rupert's voice wavered slightly, and Harriet knew he was feeling the same trepidation as she was. It was easy enough to be full of cheerful excitement on board ship, she thought wryly. Standing alone, strangers in a strange land, was something else altogether.

“Your father said he would meet the ship,” she told him. “If we don't see him in a moment or two, I expect we can find an inn or some respectable place to wait.” Although could they? Pictou didn't look to offer too much in that direction, and she had no idea how long they might be expected to wait. Sailing vessels could be days or even weeks earlier or later than their estimated arrival, and she didn’t know if Sandy would have come to Pictou already, or would be some time yet.

“What about our trunks?”

What about them, Harriet wondered. She felt helpless and ill equipped to handle even the smallest of problems. “I'm sure we could hire...”

“Rupert!” A familiar, strident voice relieved her of finishing the thought. Sandy strode towards them, and quickly enveloped Rupert in a tight hug.

Harriet was shocked by the older man's appearance. His hair was far greyer than when he'd left two years ago, and there were deep lines etched in his face, lines of suffering and pain. The years in this new country must have been hard, she realised. Harder than perhaps any of them knew.

“It's good to see you, lad.” Sandy turned to Harriet, and his mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’ve come! We all hoped, of course, but where... where's Margaret?”

His voice was hoarse with fear and Harriet hastened to reassure him. “She's well and hale, but there were reasons for her to stay in Scotland, at least for the while.” Hesitantly Harriet held out the letter Margaret had written her parents to explain. “She wanted me to give you this, to explain.”