Read MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy Online
Authors: William W. Johnstone,J. A. Johnstone
Tags: #Fiction, #Westerns, #General
MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy (6 page)
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The captain stepped up to the rail forward of the quarterdeck, then looked down at his gathered crew.
“Men, we had a good crossing coming over, and I expect an even better crossing on the return. You know me well by now, and you know that when you perform your tasks as you have been assigned, you find me a pleasant enough captain. Shirk in your tasks and, I assure you, you will find me most unpleasant indeed. Mr. Norton?”
“Aye, sir?”
“Post the watches.”
“Aye sir.
“Port watch topside, starboard belowdecks.”
Duff went belowdecks with the rest of the starboard watch, and when he saw a couple of them stretch out their hammocks for a nap, he decided to do the same thing.
One week at sea
If Duff thought the life of a sailor at sea would be easy, he was quickly disabused of that notion. The ship’s officers found much for them to do, and while Duff initially thought it might merely be a means of making work to keep the sailors busy, he soon realized that all the work was necessary. Whenever any of the standing rigging became slack, a condition that seemed to be constant, the coverings had to be removed, tackles tended to, and tension put on the rigging until it was drawn well taut. Afterward, the coverings had to be replaced, which, Duff learned, was no easy thing to do.
Even the work caused work, because one rope could not be adjusted without requiring an adjustment to another. One could not stay a mast aft by the back stays without slacking up the head stays. In addition to the constant attention to the ship’s rigging, there was greasing, oiling, varnishing, painting, scraping, and scrubbing to be attended to, plus furling, bracing, making and setting sail, pulling, and climbing. Duff found that there was much to occupy him.
“Them that sails on the steamships don’t do all this work,” a sailor named Kelly said.
“They ain’t hardly what you would call sailors neither,” Jiggs said. “Them that sails on the steamships ain’t nothin’ but passengers goin’ along for the ride. You ain’t a real sailor ’lessen you are on a wind ship. Sails, that’s where the word sailor comes from.”
Those who were close enough to overhear the exchange laughed, but the work continued.
As the voyage progressed, Duff discovered that the business of running the ship was much to be preferred over the long, silent hours of night watch. That was because it was during those hours of night watch when he most felt the pain of Skye’s death.
More than one time he was sure that he heard her voice.
“Duff, my darling Duff, I am here. Can you not see me?”
Duff would turn with a small cry of joy and a smile on his face. But the smile would be replaced by an expression of sorrow as he realized that what he was hearing was the whisper of the wind from the sails or the murmur of water slipping by the hull, and no more.
Sometimes, too, he would see her flashing eyes in the green light of the luminescent fish that would keep pace with the ship. Such experiences were bittersweet for him. On the one hand, it kept the memory of Skye ever fresh in his mind; on the other, it kept the pain of his loss ever aching in his heart.
Toward the end of the second week at sea, the starboard watch was below when Duff heard the raindrops falling on deck thick and fast. He could also hear the loud and repeated orders of the mate, trampling of feet, creaking of the blocks, and all the accompaniments of a coming storm. In a few minutes, the slide of the hatch was thrown back, which made the noise from above even louder.
“All hands on deck! All hands on deck! Topside, me hearties, we are into heavy seas!” Norton shouted down.
When Duff reached the deck he saw, firsthand, what it was like to be running before a storm at sea. The heavy head sea was beating against the
Hiawatha
with a noise that sounded as if someone was taking a sledgehammer to the hull. On one particularly large plunge, the bowsprit dipped and poked through a large swell. The wave broke over the bow and threw its spray the entire length of the deck.
Hiawatha
with a noise that sounded as if someone was taking a sledgehammer to the hull. On one particularly large plunge, the bowsprit dipped and poked through a large swell. The wave broke over the bow and threw its spray the entire length of the deck.
The wind was blowing with gale force as the ship crashed through the waves. Suddenly the great mainsail on the main mast ripped open from top to bottom.
“MacCallister, Kelly! Lay up to furl that sheet before it blows to tatters!” Norton called.
“Aye!” Kelly replied. “With me, MacCallister!”
The two men climbed the mast and began working on the torn sail, but no sooner had they finished with it than the topsail tore loose and began flapping in the breeze, threatening to pull away and take with it the topgallant mast, which was now vibrating like a wand.
“We’d best get to the to’sail!” Kelly said, starting to climb even higher.
Duff had not yet climbed to the topsail, even in calm weather, but he started up one side of the mast as Kelly climbed the other side. When they reached the topgallant, the wind was of near hurricane velocity, and the mountainous waves were battering against the side of the ship with the impact of a cannonball. The
Hiawatha
would be lifted by one swell, hang quivering over the trough between the waves, then slam back down into the sea, only to be caught up by another, even larger wave.
Hiawatha
would be lifted by one swell, hang quivering over the trough between the waves, then slam back down into the sea, only to be caught up by another, even larger wave.
Up here, too, Duff experienced firsthand the geometric principle of fulcrum and arm. The ship was the fulcrum, the topgallant mast was the farthermost part of the arm, thus making the gyrations aloft three or four times more severe than what those on deck were experiencing.
When he reached the top, he realized that he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do. Kelly realized that as well, so he called out to him, his voice thin in the howling gale.
“We have to pull in the sail! Wrap your leg around the t’gallant yard so’s you can hang on!”
Duff did as Kelly instructed, and fighting hard to overcome the flapping pitch and yaw, the two men were able to pull in the loose sail, then furl it at the bottom, securing it with line.
“We can go back down now!” Kelly shouted, but at that very moment a severe roll tossed Kelly free and he started to fall. Without thinking, Duff let go with his hands, and holding himself secure only by his legs, almost as a trapeze artist, he swung his torso down and managed to catch Kelly by one hand, at the last possible moment.
The next roll of the ship pitched Kelly into the mast and he grabbed it with both arms. Duff pulled himself back up, then grabbed the mast and scrambled back down to the deck just behind Kelly.
“Well done, lad, well done,” Norton said to Duff.
Back on deck, and with all the sails furled, there was nothing left to do but ride out the storm. The deck heaved up, then fell to starboard, then dipped sharply to port. The roll to port was much longer and deeper than the roll to starboard had been, and Duff feared for a moment that it might just keep on going until the ship capsized. But his fear was unfounded as the ship slowly returned to the upright position, only to roll back to starboard again.
Finally the storm ended, and while it left the sea a dirty green, jagged looking and frothy, at least it wasn’t boiling as it had been. The sky was gray with low-lying, scudding clouds that were no longer dumping rain. The deck was a shambles and men were lying exhausted on every space available, paying little attention to the wet boards. There were broken fixtures and dangling stays, but the storm sails had been replaced with the regular sails and, once more, the ship was making all good speed.
Some time later, Duff was standing at the rail looking out over the sea when Kelly came up to him, carrying two cups of coffee.
“I thought you might like a cup of coffee,” he said, extending one of the cups to Duff.
“Aye, thank you, a bit of coffee might be bracing now,” Duff said, accepting the cup.
“You saved my life,” Kelly said.
“You would’ve done the same for me.”
“I might have tried, but I ain’t no ways near ’bout as strong as you, so I don’t know if I could have done it,” Kelly said. He took a swallow of his coffee, then stared for a moment at Duff. “Did you really kill someone?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are the one the sheriff was looking for the night just before we left port, aren’t you? I was on watch. The sheriff said you killed someone.”
“How do you know I’m the one he was talking about?”
“You came aboard that night. I don’t know how you did it. I sure didn’t see anyone, but that must have been when you done it.”
“Yes, I came aboard that night,” Duff admitted. “I borrowed a skiff, came up alongside opposite the pier, then climbed up.”
Kelly chuckled. “I thought it might be something like that. Who did you kill?”
“I killed two of the three men who killed my fiancée,” Duff said.
“I’ll be damned. Killed your fiancée, did they?”
“Yes.”
“Then they needed killin’,” Kelly said.
“Indeed they did.”
Kelly took another swallow of his coffee. “I’m glad you did it. And don’t worry none about it, because your secret is safe with me, MacCallister.”
“I appreciate that.”
Duff’s feat in grabbing and saving Kelly’s life gave him entrée into the close-knit bond of the crew, and for the remaining voyage, he was treated as one of their own.
By the time they reached New York, Duff was an accomplished seaman. He went aloft with the rest of them to reef the sails on orders. He climbed down over the side to hang but inches above the water to apply pitch to the side. He holystoned the deck. He performed every task assigned cheerfully and ably. Now, as the ship sailed into New York Harbor, he was standing on the mizzen mainsail yard as the ship was met by a tugboat. With all sails furled, and forward propulsion being provided by the steam-powered tugboat, they were brought up snug against one of the piers. There, from the pier, small lines, attached to huge hawsers, as big around as a man’s arm, were thrown up to sailors fore and aft on the ship.
“Make lines secure, fore and aft!” Captain Powell called.
The sailors, fore and aft, looped the hawsers around the on deck stanchions.
“Lines secure, fore and aft, aye, sir!” Norton called back
“Drop anchor!”
The windlass let the anchor down as the crew scrambled to check watches and see who had won the pool on the exact time the anchor would drop.
The
Hiawatha
, its crew, and Duff MacCallister were in the United States of America.
Hiawatha
, its crew, and Duff MacCallister were in the United States of America.
Chapter Six
New York
The paymaster from Red Ball Shipping Lines came aboard the
Hiawatha
within an hour of its dropping anchor. They were also visited by merchants from the city, tradesmen who met all the arriving ships, as anxious to relieve the sailors of their pay as the sailors were anxious to spend it.
Hiawatha
within an hour of its dropping anchor. They were also visited by merchants from the city, tradesmen who met all the arriving ships, as anxious to relieve the sailors of their pay as the sailors were anxious to spend it.
Duff welcomed the clothing merchant and bought three pairs of striped trousers. Two pairs were dark blue with black vertical stripes, and one pair was brown with blue vertical stripes. The pants were held closed at the waist with decorative buttons. The three shirts were all white, with detachable collars and cuffs. Thus supplied, he put on a pair of trousers and a shirt, then packed his other clothes in the sea bag that Kelly had given him.
“Will you be shipping over, MacCallister?” Kelly asked. “It was fine sailing with you.”
“I will confess to you, Kelly, that it was an experience I appreciated more than I thought I would,” Duff replied. “But I think I’ll stay ashore for a while.”
“MacCallister,” Norton said. “The cap’n wants a word with you before you leave. He said to send you to his cabin.”
“The cap’n’s cabin?” Kelly said. “I’ve been sailing man and boy for fifteen years, I’ve never been in the cap’n’s cabin.”
Captain Powell’s cabin took up most of the area under the quarterdeck, stretching from side to side and back to the stern where a spread of windows let in the light. There was a large bed, a desk, and a chart table. He was standing at the chart table using a compass and ruler on the chart that was before him.
Duff knocked, lightly, on the door to the cabin.
“Come in, Mr. MacCallister,” Captain Powell said. Looking up, he smiled when he saw what Duff was wearing. “Now I must say, that is more befitting a gentleman than the clothes you have been wearing for the last three weeks. Buy it from the clothing merchant, did you?”
“Aye, sir, I felt I no longer had the right to Peters’s clothes.”
“Mr. MacCallister, I kept a close eye on you during this voyage. You had an inauspicious beginning, sneaking on board as you did.” He paused, waiting for some response from Duff. “I’m glad to see that you aren’t refuting me. You did stow away, did you not?”
“Aye, sir,” Duff admitted.
“Yes, well, as I say, you had a most inauspicious beginning, but, a most commendable voyage. You did not shirk your duties. You performed them with a skill that one would expect from a much more experienced sailor, to say nothing of your saving Kelly’s life.
“I watched the men around you as well. And while it is often difficult for a new sailor to break into a crew, tight-knit as they tend to be, the men liked and respected you. I’m told that when you came aboard, you introduced yourself to Jiggs as Captain MacCallister. Are you a captain, Mr. MacCallister?”
“Aye. I am a captain—that is—I was a captain in the 42nd Foot, Third Battalion of the Royal Highland Regiment of Scotts. It is the regiment we call the Black Watch.”
Captain Powell smiled, and nodded his head. “Yes, I knew you were officer material. I think, with my recommendation, you could ship out again for Red Ball as a ship’s officer. Serve as a warrant or lieutenant for a few cruises, then you could one day command your own ship. What would you think about that?”
“I think it is very flattering, and I believe you would be most kind to make such a recommendation, Captain, but I do not think the sea is for me. I think I will stay on dry land for a while.”
“I shall not try to change your mind,” Captain Powell said. “But just know that if you ever have a desire to go to sea again, look me up. I will be happy to sponsor you.”
“I appreciate that, Captain, more than I can say.”
When Duff returned to steerage to pick up his bag, the other sailors stood, respectfully.
“Here now, what is all this?” Duff asked.
“Is it true that you are to be a ship’s officer?” Kelly asked.
“No,” Duff said. “Now why would I leave the fo’ castle?”
Kelly smiled broadly. “Fine lad that you are, I knew you were one of us.”
“Well, not entirely,” Duff replied. “If I were to ship out again, it would be with you men, for I’ve served with no finer group of men anywhere. But, it’s ashore for me. I want to see some of America.”
“Then perhaps you’ll have dinner with us tonight at the Port of Call,” Kelly asked.
“I would be honored,” Duff said.
The Port of Call restaurant was less than a block away from the docks. The sign in front was a wooden representation of a three-masted schooner. The bill of fare exhibited its international flavor by offering cuisine from a dozen countries, from Moo Goo Gai Pan to
Avocat et Oeufs à la Mousse de Crabe,
from kidney pie to Southern fried chicken.
Avocat et Oeufs à la Mousse de Crabe,
from kidney pie to Southern fried chicken.
There was a kaleidoscope of sound inside as sailors from a dozen countries carried on spirited conversations in their own languages. Everything was going well until a big Frenchman was walking by the table of the sailors from the
Hiawatha.
Just as he drew even with the table, Dowling, one of the
Hiawatha
crew, chose that moment to stand up so that he could go relieve himself. He pushed his chair back into the path of the Frenchman, and the French sailor stumbled but did not fall.
Hiawatha.
Just as he drew even with the table, Dowling, one of the
Hiawatha
crew, chose that moment to stand up so that he could go relieve himself. He pushed his chair back into the path of the Frenchman, and the French sailor stumbled but did not fall.
“Oh, beg your pardon, mate, I didn’t see you coming,” Dowling said.
“Cochon Américain typique, aussi aveugle que vous êtes stupide,”
the Frenchman mumbled.
the Frenchman mumbled.
“Vous êtes des ceux qui sont aveugles et stupides. Mon ami s’est excuse, mais vous êtes trop le rustre pour être gracieux,”
Duff said.
Duff said.
The Frenchman had called Dowling a blind, stupid pig, and Duff had responded by saying that Frenchman was the one who was blind and stupid, and too much the boor to accept an apology. The Frenchman’s eyes grew large when he heard Duff speak.
“Yes, I speak French,” Duff said.
The Frenchman started to walk away and Duff turned his attention back to his friends at the table. A moment later Kelly yelled, “MacCallister, look out!”
Duff turned just in time to see that the Frenchman had picked up a chair and had the chair raised high, preparatory to bringing it down on Duff’s head. Duff rolled off his seat just as the Frenchman brought the chair crashing down on the table, breaking the plate Duff was eating from and sending food flying.
Shouting in anger for having missed, the Frenchman raised his chair again and turned toward Duff. From the floor, Duff sent a whistling kick into the Frenchman’s groin. The Frenchman dropped the chair and grabbed himself, doubled over with pain.
While he was still doubled over, Duff leaped up from the floor, grabbed the Frenchman by the scruff of his neck and the back of his shirt, then started across the floor with him, moving him toward the door. One of the waiters saw what had happened and what was now happening, and he opened the front door, just as Duff pushed the big Frenchman through it. The Frenchman fell forward, his face landing in a pile of horse apples.
When Duff went back into the restaurant, everyone inside stood and applauded, even including the other Frenchmen.
“Claude is—as Americans would say, a sorry son of a bitch,” one of the French sailors said. “It is about time someone gave him his due.”
When Duff returned to the table, he saw that his broken plate had been replaced with a new, fresh serving of haggis, taties, and neeps.
“I don’t know how you can eat that,” Kelly said. “But the waiter brought you another serving, on the house.”
Duff awakened the next morning to the sounds of the city. Just outside the window of his hotel he heard a train going by on an elevated track. From the street, five stories below, he could hear the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the ringing sound of iron-rimmed wheels rolling on the paved road. Getting out of bed, Duff moved to the window to have his first real look at New York. With five- and six-story buildings on either side of the street, he felt as if he were looking down a canyon.
The street was filled with pedestrians and vehicles, hundreds of people strolling to and fro, and dozens of large freight wagons, omnibuses, elegant carriages, buckboards, and surreys. In addition to surface traffic, there was also an elevated railroad and a spiderweb maze of telephone, telegraph, and electric lines. His room had electric lights, and the notice on the dresser proudly proclaimed that telephone service was available in the lobby.
Duff had heard of a telephone, but he had never seen one, and wasn’t exactly sure how one would work. But after getting dressed, he walked down to the lobby to see how one went about using the phone.
“What number do you wish to call?” the desk clerk asked.
“Well, I don’t know,” Duff replied. “I don’t know what you mean by number. I wish to call a person.”
“Sir,” the clerk explained patiently, “if that person has a telephone, the telephone will have a number. You must know that number in order to put your call through.”
“Oh,” Duff said. “I’m afraid I don’t know the number.”
The clerk took some pity on him then, realizing from his accent that he wasn’t local.
“If you know the person’s name, we can look up the number,” the clerk said.
“Look up the number? How does one do that?”
“There is a book called a telephone book. Every person and every business that has a telephone has their name listed in that book, along with the number you need in order to call them. Like this,” he added. The clerk took a phone book from beneath his desk. “Now, what is the name of the person you wish to call?”
“His name is Andrew MacCallister,” Duff said
“Andrew MacCallister? Do you mean the famous actor?”
“Yes, he is an actor.”
The clerk had opened the telephone book, but now he closed it. “Perhaps you had best find someone else to call,” the clerk said. “Andrew MacCallister is a very famous man. I seriously doubt that he would be up to taking a telephone call from a stranger.”
“But we are nae strangers,” Duff insisted. “We are kinsmen.”
The clerk’s interest perked up. “Kinsmen, you say? And your name would be?”
“MacCallister,” Duff said.
“The self-same as the actor?”
“Aye, kinsmen we are.”
“Then, in that case, I will look up the number for you.”
The clerk found the number, then told it to Duff. “The number you want to call is 8178.” He handed the receiver to Duff, and Duff looked at it as if unsure what to do with it.
“Hold it to your ear,” the clerk explained. “When the operator comes on, tell her 8178.”
“Number please,” a woman’s voice asked.
Duff took the receiver from his ear and held it up to his mouth. The desk clerk laughed. “Not here—here,” he said, pointing to the little transmitter. Duff nodded, and leaned into the transmitter. “Eight-one-seven-eight!” he shouted.
“Sir, it is not necessary for you to speak so loudly,” the operator replied.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, many do,” the operator said.
A moment later Duff heard a voice in his receiver. It was tinny, but he recognized it as Andrew’s voice.
“Cousin Andrew! This is Duff MacCallister,” Duff said.
“Duff, you are in New York! How wonderful!” Andrew said. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the Abbey Hotel.”
“Wait in the lobby. I will send a carriage for you.”
Half an hour later, as Duff disembarked from the carriage in front of Andrew’s apartment building, his cousin came out to greet him.
“How much do I owe you?” Duff asked the carriage driver.
“You owe me nothing, sir. It has been paid for,” the driver replied.
“Duff, it is so good to see you,” Andrew said, extending his hand in welcome. Duff started to pick up his sea bag, but Andrew signaled the doorman and the doorman called to someone inside. A young man hurried out of the large apartment building and picked up the bag.
“To your apartment, Mr. MacCallister?”
“I don’t have an apartment,” Duff replied.
“He means me,” Andrew said with a chuckle. “You aren’t the only MacCallister here.”
“Right, I suppose not,” Duff said.
“Yes, Jimmy, take it up to my apartment,” Andrew said. Then to Duff, “Come, I’ll show you where I live. I’m on the top floor; I have a wonderful view of the city.”
Duff followed Andrew into the building and started toward the stairs.
“No, this way,” Andrew said.
“I thought your place was on the top floor.”
“It is, and it is too far to climb the stairs. We shall take the elevator.”
Duff had been in an elevator only one time before, and that had been when he visited Glasgow. As he recalled, he did not particularly like the experience, but he said nothing to Andrew as they stepped into the elevator cab.
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