Elise leaned close, eyes scanning the map. She tapped one of the crosses and then indicated Islay’s coast. “What’s the distance between the site of the attack and the coastline?”
Andrea measured it. “Just over three leagues.”
“Right. And how long would it take a ship to cross that distance if they were going as fast as they could?”
Andrea took a piece of charcoal and scrawled a calculation on the bottom of the map. “Taking the top speed of Laird Donald’s galleys—around five knots—it would take around half an hour.”
Elise grinned at her. “You’re wasted as a housekeeper, you know that? You should be a mathematician.”
Andrea blushed at the compliment. “Does the information tell ye anything?”
“It does. Jamie’s fleet is patrolling the coast, right? Yet they’ve never been able to capture any of these pirates. Why is that? How can they disappear so quickly?”
Andrea shrugged. “They have faster ships than ours?”
“Perhaps.” But Elise wasn’t convinced. She snatched up the map and rose from the bench. “Where can I find Jamie at this time of day?”
*
Jamie gripped thehandles of the plane tightly and pushed it away from him, shaving off another sliver of the long plank he was working on. Leaning forward, he blew away the dust and shavings and then made another pass, feeling the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunch and contract as he worked. Slowly, the timber began to take shape and when it was finished, heheaved it onto his shoulders and carried it over to the pile in the corner of the boatyard.
Several timbers were already stacked there but it would take a good long while until they had enough to begin the repairs to theSea Star. Glancing out of the wide doors of the boatyard, he spotted the ship itself floating at anchor out in the bay, a sad remnant of a once-proud vessel that reminded Jamie of his failures every time he looked at it.
At first light this morning he’d sent out one of his fastest ships to tow her home, gambling that the pirates would be too damaged from Elise’s assault to try attacking them. For once his instincts had been correct and his men had been able to salvage the vessel without mishap.
It was a small victory, but Jamie would take any he could get.
Around him, the rest of the men worked in morose silence. There was none of the usual banter and ribbing that went on down here, the jokes and the stories. Any humor that arose in them was quickly doused by one look out at theSea Starand the remnants of Islay’s hopes.
Instead, the shed was filled with the sound of sawing, hammering, sanding, scraping. They worked with a kind of feverish intensity, as though if they worked hard enough, if they could somehow manage to refit theSea Star, it would mean the attack had never happened.
Jamie understood the sentiment. If he could, he would wind back time to a year ago, before any of this had started, and the last time his island had felt safe. But time could not be altered. Not even the gods and goddesses had the power to do that. So he labored along with his men, using his adze to smooth and shape the rough planks until the repetitive motion pushed all other thoughts from his mind.
The work in the boatyard was being supervised by Sean, Jamie’s shipwright. The man was ancient, small and wizenedlike an old tree root and as blind as a mole, but he’d been the master shipwright of Islay for the whole of Jamie’s life. Right now, he stood by the door, leaning on a cane, looking over the workshop and scowling, as though he could see everything that was going on and it fell short of his high expectations.
But Jamie knew Sean didn’t need sight to know how to build a ship. The man’s memory and sense of space for such things was astounding. It was as if he could see in his mind the exact dimensions of the ship he was building and how it would fit together. He could tell by touch and hearing if something had been fitted correctly and what piece needed to go in next. He was a hard taskmaster and his army of apprentices worked diligently, eager for his approval and wary of his anger.
If the shipbuilders were in any way discomfited by having their chieftain laboring with them, they didn’t show it. And why would they? They were used to such things. If Jamie had not been the chieftain’s son and destined to inherit the chiefdom, he would have been a shipwright.
Ever since he was a boy and he’d managed to sneak away from his tutors and come down here, he’d enjoyed the simple, honest work of boatbuilding. Whenever the burdens of the lairdship became too heavy, he came down here, lost himself in the simplicity of working and shaping the wood until his problems receded a little and he could think straight again.
The tip of a wooden cane suddenly clacked against the plank he was working on, right between his hands. He looked up to see Sean standing over him, head cocked to one side. The Donald plaid that he wore wrapped around his shoulders seemed too big for his skinny frame, making him look like he was draped in one of the sails of the many ships he’d built.
Jamie leaned back. “Come to inspect my handiwork, old man?”
Sean grinned, revealing a set of surprisingly good teeth for one so old. “Ye didnae expect special treatment because ye are my laird, did ye?”
Jamie snorted. “Of course not. I know better than that.”
Sean bent over and placed his hands—gnarled and strong from the long years of his craft—against the plank and ran his fingers over the wood. He grunted. “Not bad. Take some more off on this side. This is going to be the spar for the mainmast. Shorten it one end by eighteen inches.”
He straightened and walked off without another word. Jamie went back to work but only a few moments later he heard footsteps outside and several exclamations of surprise from the men around him.
He put down his adze and climbed to his feet, just as a familiar figure stepped into the doorway. Elise. Jamie blinked at the sight of her. What was she doing here? And how had she known how to find him? Her cheeks were pink with cold and she was breathing heavily, as if she’d run all the way. She was carrying a rolled document in one hand.
Her eyes searched the shed and then alighted on him. “Jamie!” she cried. Then she glanced around at all the men staring at her and she swallowed. “Um. Can I…er…have a word?”
Jamie didn’t know whether to be pleased or dismayed at her appearance. Pleased because as always, the sight of her had sent a little thrill of pleasure right through him. Dismayed because something was clearly bothering her. What had happened now?
