The Runaway's Gold (12 page)

“Ah, Mr. Blackbeard. Good evening,” Reverend Sill said as Knut's forbidding form appeared in the doorframe. “Forgive me for not standing to greet you. My eighty-and-four years weigh heavy after a full day's travel.”

“That's him all right,” I whispered. “Mary—please. I've got to get out of here!”

“Why, he's positively frightening!” she said, taking her turn at the knothole. “And the stench—Midder was right about him needing a bath.”

“I dunna think there's a tub big enough in all of Shetland,” I muttered, looking about the shed for a way to escape.

“Look,” she said. “Do you see those eyes? Midder hasn't the patience for this one. Not one bit.”

I watched Mrs. Canfield glower at Knut as she ladled a large bowl of stew and brought it to the table for the reverend. “I'm sorry your meal is being interrupted, Reverend,” she said, “but Mr. Blackbeard was most insistent.”

“Look here, woman!” Knut barked, the flesh above his beard turning crimson. “This is a matter of the law!”

“Tuts, man,” Reverend Sill chided. “You'll treat Mrs. Canfield with the utmost respect when in her home. Now tell me,
how did you find me in Lerwick on a night such as this, when it has been months since you've found your way to the Kirk but a few miles from your home?”

Knut grunted. “They say you stay at Canfield House when you come to Lerwick. You weren't hard to find.”

“And what can I do to assist you this evening?”

Knut turned sideways to fit his massive frame through the doorway, his dark eyes hungrily eyeing the pots of stew and stap at the fire.

“I'm in search a' the Robertson lad,” he said, edging slowly to the table. “Sent by his Daa, I am.”

Mrs. Canfield looked up.

“John or wee Christopher?” Reverend Sill asked.

“The wee un,” he answered coldly. “With the bright ginger hair. Travelin' from the west, I glimpsed you in the distance. Thought sure you were walkin' with a lad that looked a lot like him.”

I held me breath, too frightened to move, me fingers clutching the doorframe.

“Yes, indeed,” Reverend Sill replied. “You are correct.”

“You move spryly for a man a' so many years.”

“The Lord provides me what is necessary.”

“And the lad,” Knut persisted. “Is he here?”

I froze, me eyes fixed on Reverend Sill, heart clanging in me chest. There was what seemed like a long silence as the aged man looked around the room.

“I don't see Christopher Robertson in here, do you, Mrs.
Canfield? Mr. Blackbeard, is there a problem with your eyes?”

“I'll not be made the fool!” Knut barked, leaning his face just inches from Reverend Sill's. “I know what I saw on that path today, Reverend!”

“Oh, there's no mistaking it, to be sure. He was kind enough to carry my kishie these twenty some miles.”

“And now?”

“Come, man! Do you expect me to know the whereabouts of every lad I come across on the path from his parish to Lerwick?”

Rage flashed in Knut's eyes. “Well, then, you leave me no choice but to continue me search,” he shouted, starting back to the parlor. “I'll show meself out!”

But just as I started to exhale, Reverend Sill pulled himself up from his chair. “What business, may I ask, do you have with the Robertson lad?”

Knut turned, a smile creeping around the wicks of his mouth.

“Stole William Robertson's coins, he did! And I aim to get 'em back.”

“That's a harsh charge to lay on a lad as young as he.”

Mary glanced at me as I shook me head.

“Aye. Well, it's the truth!” Knut said. “An' that's not all. Stole Pete Peterson's prize ewe the very same night. Carrying twins, she was.”

I turned to Mary. “It was me Daa who stole her—not me!”

“An' that's not the worst of it,” Knut continued, dropping
his face just inches from Reverend Sill's. I gasped, knowing what was coming next—the memory still strong in the very fingers of me right hand. To this day I don't know why, but at that moment, in every fiber of me body, I knew I couldn't let Mary, this lass I had just met, hear the truth about what I had done that night.

So before Knut uttered another word, I sprang to me feet and pulled her from the door. She looked at me, confused, as the sound of Knut's muffled voice droned on through the wall.

“I'm not a thief, Mary,” I said, knowing in me heart that what I had done to that ewe was so much worse. And remembering me Midder's words that not telling the entire truth was nearly as bad as lying.

The silence weighed heavy between us. And then I looked down. “Just wanted you to know.”

“Well, if it's any help, you don't look much like one to me.”

I glanced at her, allowing me eyes to meet hers only for a moment. “How's that?”

“Running this boardinghouse, Midder and I have seen our share. Besides, I've never laid eyes on a lad as hungry as you. With a pouch full of coins, I suspect you'd be in a tavern by the wharf filling your belly rather than with me in my Midder's kitchen.”

For a moment I almost managed a smile.

“So, tell me—why
aren't
you a thief?”

“Should I be?”

“Well, with your Daa and brother both taking a liking to it. Does it run in the family?”

I turned to the door to the kitchen and shuddered. “John, he's always had his brain filled with schemes and ideas to get off the croft. Sometimes I think he'd do anything to be free of Marwick—of this island. And Daa, he just thinks he's better than the rest.” I took a deep breath. “All I know is that I have two wee sisters back at the croft, Catherine and Victoria, along with me Gutcher and aunt. Daa's lame, and now, with John gone, there's no one but me left to keep us going. If I don't get back with that pouch, the entire family'll be cast from the croft. What I want—all I truly want for me sisters and me—is to no longer be hungry.”

I searched the room with me eyes, knowing that, with this new information from Knut, Reverend Sill would have no choice but to take me to Sheriff Nicolson.

“Mary, I've a hunch John'll be searching for smuggled goods at the docks—to buy and resell for a profit. Then he's off to America on the first boat he can find. I have to find him
before
he spends those coins, or I'll never have a chance to clear me name.” I looked at her, knowing she had no reason in the world to help me. “Please—can you show me a way out of here?”

And to me surprise she nodded. Then she quickly rolled away the barrel of molasses at her side. Underneath was the outline of a door cut into the floor. “Through here. It leads through the cellar to the back of the house.”

“Thank you!” I said, lifting it up as quietly as possible and swinging me legs onto the ladder down the opening. “Please—” I started, knowing I had no time to spare and yet, somehow, not wanting to leave. “If I can ever return the favor . . .”

“Perhaps you can. Tell me, Chris Robertson,” she whispered, “can you keep a secret?”

“Aye. Though you have no reason to trust that I will.”

“These past few nights—I myself have been sneaking down to the docks.”

“Alone?”

“Aye.”

“But is that not,” I thought a moment, choosing me words carefully, “unseemly? For a young lass to be out alone, I mean. And at night?”

She looked away quickly. “Aye. Midder discovered me just last night and nearly tanned me backside. She made me promise I'd never try again. But, you see, should me uncle return unwarned—”

“They'll seize the
Ernestine Brennan
.”

“Aye. And everything she's carrying. Ever since the fishing started failin', Mr. Marwick's increased his trips to Rotterdam. This is Uncle's fourth trip there this year.”

“For gin?”

She bit her lip. “I suspect as much. And should the Revenue Men search the ship, Uncle will be sent to Lerwick Prison.”

The sound of Knut Blackbeard's voice droned on through the door. “Mary, should I see the
Ernestine Brennan
, I'll do me
best to warn your uncle. But I'm afraid I'm fairly hopeless finding me way in the dark, even on me end of the island.”

Mary frowned. “The directions are a bit hard to explain.”

I cringed, picturing the time I would waste turning up and down the narrow, dark lanes we had passed. “Aye. Well, I'll manage.”

But as I started down the ladder, she suddenly grabbed me arm. “Wait—I'll show you the way.”

“Lor', lass, you canna do that,” I whispered, surprised by her touch. “You heard your Midder—the lanes are filled with drunken rioters. And for all you know, I could be the thief Knut Blackbeard says I am.”

“Well, you're far too young to be a good one,” she said, a smile sneaking from her lips.

“But you heard the reverend. It's not safe!”

“And if the
Ernestine Brennan
arrives tonight? Who's to warn Uncle and Charles?”

“Surely Mr. Marwick's thought of that.”

“Hah!” she said, releasing her grip. “He's in Edinburgh trying to get the loan. No one expects him back till month's end.”

Suddenly she grabbed a hap from a hook by a sack of flour. Then she sprang over to a high-domed kist against the wall and pulled out a canvas sack. “The choice is yours, Christopher Robertson,” she said, thrusting the sack so forcefully into me chest that she nearly knocked me down the ladder. “Waste time lost in the dark streets of Lerwick or take someone who knows the way.”

George

e climbed from the cellar through a narrow window into the courtyard behind Canfield House.

“That Blackbeard man'll be looking for a crofter.” Mary wrapped the hap tightly around her head and shoulders as the unpredictable Shetland wind whipped about us. Then she stuck her hand into the sack and pulled out a thickly woven, dark blue coat. “Leave your gansey here and put on this.”

Me eyes widened as I ran me calloused fingers along the soft wool.

“It's Charles's,” she explained, “but he hasn't fit in it in years.
It's what I use to disguise myself when I sneak down to the wharf.”

“Perhaps it's not me place,” I said, hesitating before pulling me frayed gansey over me head.

“Don't be silly!” she replied, helping me into the coat and quickly fastening the four brilliant brass buttons. Then she reached back in the bag and laughed. “Here's the cap. I'm guessing they don't dress like this back in Culswick.”

Me face hardened as I slipped the cap awkwardly on me head, though I had to admit she was right. “Aye. I'd be surprised if even John recognized me now.”

“Now—the breeks. Go on! Quickly! It won't be long before they discover we're gone.”

I jumped back, me face growing hot. “Well, I'll not be stripping to me underdraws in front of you, if that's what you're thinking!”

She laughed. “Behind the hedge with you, then, just by the rock wall.” She searched the bag again and handed over a pair of boots. “Try these, but no dallying. They might be a bit large, but that's better than having them squeeze your toes.”

Boots! There wasn't a single member of me family who had ever had a pair of boots, not even Daa. I was stunned by the stiff feeling around me ankles and calves and the firmness of the soles.

“Will they work?” Mary asked as I stepped from behind the hedge, trying not to look as pleased as I was to be wearing such fine clothes. “Because if they rub the wrong way, I guess
it wouldn't be the end of the world if you kept your rivlins on.” She must have seen me smiling in the moonlight. “Good, then. Now, be sure to tuck your things behind a rock in the wall where no one will see them.”

I could hardly contain meself, tapping each heel to toe. Imagine—after all that had happened, I was standing in Lerwick wearing a pair of boots!