Nearing the shore, the wind intensified. Maggie pulled her shawl over her hair. Angus turned the cart around and brought it to a halt in front of a shallow cliff above the sandy shore and Rob’s breath caught at one of the most breathtaking panoramas he had ever seen.
Sand so white it almost blistered the back of his eyes, waves curling up to the shore in gentle undulations. Large, flat rocks to the north and south covered with basking seals. Several unfamiliar species of birds swooped overhead and clownish puffins rode the swells. Other smaller rocks, draped with clumps of seaweed, resembled misshapen heads with clumsy haircuts.
Och, how he wanted to take off his boots, climb down from the cart, and run on that sand barefooted. He turned to Maggie. “’Tis so grand it takes my breath away.”
“It is that.” She massaged his shoulders. “But we’d best be getting along. There’s still a lot to see.”
Angus clucked to Jack.
Rob burned the image of the cove into his mind.
They continued south, the cart’s wheels juddering on a wide stone bridge over a rocky burn tumbling toward the sea. Just past the bridge, Rob’s eager gaze took in a large body of dark water on his right, lined with large, uneven rocks, shores covered with masses of colorful wildflowers. “That must be the fresh-water loch. And on yonder brae’s where they dig—och, cast peat. Please slow down, Angus, I want a guid look.”
“Aye, that’s Loch Donald,” Maggie said. “’Tis the source of our drinking water and you can see how peaty it is by its dark colour. ’Tis fine water, which leaves our clothes without wrinkles and feeling soft, and you know how guid it tastes.”
A breeze rippled the dark surface as flocks of birds dove and swooped over the water, feasting on swarms of midges. The cart moved again.
Rob tore his gaze away from the loch. Many small paths meandered off the main path toward the base of Ben Innis. “Where do those paths go?”
“Each is filled with cottages,” Maggie explained. “’Tis where most of our folk live.”
He looked at his watch. “Do we have time to go down one? I know ’tis getting late.”
Angus tamped his clay pipe full of fresh tobacco and scratched a wooden match against the sole of his boot. “One I can do,” he mumbled, sucking to keep the flame from dying. He inhaled deeply, smiling as the aromatic smoke drifted from between his lips. “I promised Flora I’d be home with time to do my turns before supper.”
The voices of bairns laughing and shouting to one another in the Gaelic and Scots rode the breeze as Angus turned the cuddy into a narrow, twisted path. The cart rumbled between cottage crofts, some so small only a tiny, rocky yard, filled to overflowing with a struggling vegetable garden, that fronted the path. Pigs dozed in dusty wallows and chickens pecked about in sparse grass. Most of the cottages looked in poor condition, a few with newspapers and bits of cloth stuck into places where window glass belonged.
They passed an old woman using a butter plunger on her front door flags, and three cottages down, another, spinning wool. Both shouted greetings in the Gaelic, their smiles welcoming.
“You’ll find only widows and auld folk on this path,” Maggie said.
Rob studied the cottages. The deep-seated poverty sickened him. Something had to be done before Innisbraw slowly died away with its old folk.
He heard the bairns voices again and his heart fell. They were on the next path. He’d wanted to see them at play. When they reached the last cottage, Angus turned the cart and they returned to the main path.
The cart rumbled past a bent-shouldered old woman leading a shaggy cuddy with a large woven basket strapped to each side of its sturdy back. Both baskets bulged with slabs of peat.
Angus and Maggie called out a greeting, which the woman acknowledged with a shy smile and a wave.
“Shouldn’t we stop and offer to help?” Rob asked.
“Sorcha’s almost home,” Maggie said. “She lives on the next path and would be embarrassed if we stopped. ’Tis guid to see somebody’s cast her some peat and let her use their cuddy and creels. Her Murdo passed so long ago, our men-folk sometimes forget her needs.”
Maggie had told him dried peat was light, but it still bothered Rob that a woman so old would have to walk to the bog and fill those baskets—creels—by herself.
They crossed several small stone bridges and passed numerous paths, exchanging greetings with the young women they met, all struggling to carry heavy buckets, bairns tugging at their skirts. “They’ve been to the nearest burn for water,” Maggie said. “As I said before, most of our folk live on those paths, but after a bit you’ll see our largest sheep crofts, stretching almost to the sea.”
When the roar of heavy surf made conversation impossible, Angus pulled the cuddy to a halt.
Vast areas of uneven, rock-strewn grass stretched behind on the right, countless sheep grazing or lying in groups, chewing their cuds with lazy contentment, black and white dogs keeping watch. Only a few thatched cottages with sheepfolds, peat piles, and low stone dykes separating crofts, kitchen gardens, and small turnip or oat fields broke up the vivid green landscape.
Angus clucked again and the cart made a turn to the east. Looking at the southern shore of the island, Rob understood why the crofters didn’t bother patrolling it. What wasn’t taken up by the steep cliff of Innis Fell on the far eastern side was given over to large jagged rocks marching in ragged, broken ranks out into the heaving waters of the Atlantic.
They made the long, slow climb to the top and across Innis Fell, pulling up in front of the infirmary.
Angus refused the pound note Rob offered him for his services. “’Twas my pleasure.” The crofter ducked his head. Rob and chair unloaded, Angus left with a wave of his bunnet.
Maggie pushed the chair over the sandy path to the walk.
Rob wheeled up the ramp and stopped. “Come you on, luve.” He pulled Maggie into his lap, hugging her. “I want to thank you for the day. Now, when I’m back to duty I’ll have all those mind-pictures to take with me.”
Her gaze, dark with anxiety, met his. “Do you feel better now, Rob? I mean about our folk?”
He thought for a moment. “I do that. I hope you understand I don’t really know deep in my heart I can come back, but ’tis a guid start. I’ve a lot of praying to do.”
“We both do. We can’t let one bitter auld woman keep us from coming home.”
“If that’s the way it turns out, you’re absolutely right.” He removed her shawl and tangled his fingers in her wind-blown hair. “First in my memories of the day will be the picture of your smiling face with its rosy cheeks and those wee wisps of hair dancing around your forehead.” He pulled her closer, whispering, “Thank ye, my Maggie,” before lowering his lips to hers.
CHAPTER 36
The rapid pealing of the kirk bell woke Rob.
Maggie rushed into his room.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something bad. Hugh only rings the bell that fast to warn folk of an emergency and call them to prayer. I’m going to get dressed and run over to Angus’s croft.”
“What about U-boats? Could that be the problem?”
“Och, I don’t know. Kirk bells have been banned in Great Britain since the war started, but because we have no siren, the War Department allows Hugh to ring ours. But U-boats never attack the islands during daylight.”
He pushed back the covers and sat up. “Is there owt I can do?”
“Stay in bed and promise you won’t try to get up.”
“I’ll stay right here. ’Tis a promise.”
The long wait drove him crazy. Had the Germans landed on Innisbraw’s western shore without being seen, and overpowered the poorly armed crofters? Gunfire couldn’t be heard from the open window, though, and the sun had been up for almost an hour
Maybe it was a fire. Or someone had been injured. But wait, it was only—he looked at his watch—0500. Who would be up and about so early?
The fisher
men.
A pain ripped across his belly. Was a trawler or creeler in trouble? He closed his eyes, beseeching the Lord to help whoever needed it and for whatever reason. He prayed the same prayer over and over, so frustrated he felt like shouting. If only he could be with Maggie.
The front door slammed and Maggie’s running footsteps came from the hall.
He pulled himself up again.
She leaped onto the bed and threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
***
“What’s happened? Is it the Germans?”
She shook her head, struggling hard to catch her breath. Her mind spun with more loss. “’Tis ... ’tis Gregor Boyd’s ... trawler.” She panted. “She must have lost her rudder and was swept onto the rocks on the southern shore of Innisbraw.”
“Has Barra rescue been notified?”
“Aye. But they can’t get here in time to help. There are six souls aboard that boat, including Gregor and his own twa lads. Six souls, and all such guid lads.”
“What was it doing near the south shore? I thought they only fished the Minch.”
“He must have been heading for the Atlantic. Fishing the Minch is so poor right now.”
“Is there any way they can make it to shore by climbing the rocks if they have to abandon ship?”
“No’ with the incoming tide washing higher and higher over the rocks. They’ll be battered to death. They’re already abandoning ship. She’s being driven to pieces by the surf beating against the sharp rocks. I’m going with Angus to help, but you have to promise to stay in bed while I’m gone.”
He held her away. “I want to go with you. I don’t need my wheelchair. I’ll sit in the back of the cairt and hold on.”
She shook her head, unwilling to waste time on senseless blether. “Och, you can’t go, and what could you do even if you did?”
“I know first aid and I’ve been trained to help in plane crashes. Mebbe I can’t help physically, but my mind isn’t paralysed. I use logic to save lives. Please, Maggie. I have to go.”
“Angus has already gone to catch and harness Feona, his fastest cuddy.”
“Then go stand on the path and wait for him. First, bring my chair over and set the brakes so I can get into it. And toss me my clothes. Hurry, lass, please.”
She rushed for the chair. She’d have to see he stayed in the cart. In less than a minute, Rob was seated and pulling his clothing on over his pyjamas while she ran for the entry.
***
Rob couldn’t manage his socks and boots but pulled his A-2 jacket down from its peg on the wall and shrugged into it.
Angus’s cart rattled up the hill. He and Maggie rushed in a moment later.
“Angus can help you into the cairt and lift your chair in and while he’s helping you, I’ll gather up some saline, blankets, and my medical bag.” Maggie unlocked the brakes. “On you go. I’ll catch you up in a tick.”
Angus looked at Rob’s bare feet and pulled two pairs of socks over them. “’Tis cold out there,” he said, pushing the chair down the hall.
When they reached the cart, Rob heaved himself into the back and scooted forward while Angus struggled to lift his chair. The crofter helped Rob position his hands on the side slats and pull himself to his feet, then pushed the chair up behind him so he could drop into it. Rob had just set the chair’s brakes when Maggie came out the door, hidden behind a pile of blankets and the large medical bag she carried.
She tossed everything into the cart and Angus pulled her in. Burying her head against his chest, she leaned against him and he joined her in prayer as the cart tore along the path over Innis Fell. When they reached the turn at the bottom of the fell, Angus slowed Feona slightly but kept her on a straight western course, wheels juddering over the rough machair.
It didn’t take long to see the trawler, or what was left of her. She lay on her side, the agonized screams of her timbers being torn apart by the rocks one of the most horrifying sounds Rob had ever heard. They sounded human, like the shrieks of women in excruciating pain.
The shore was lined with men, some clad in woolen trousers and sweaters, a few wearing heavy tweeds and fishing boots.
Angus pulled the cart to a stop and turned it around so Rob and Maggie could see. “I’m going to help.” He jumped down.
Several men removed their boots and tied long ropes around their waists before handing the other ends to men to hold. As Rob watched the rescuers struggling towards the rocks, he had a sudden idea. He put two fingers in his mouth, let out several shrill whistles, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Bring me your ropes so we can tie them to the axle of the cairt!” he shouted. “’Tis stronger than any man! Hurry!” He whistled again and repeated his instructions.
Some of the men holding the loose ends rushed to tie their ropes to the axle while others had to be coaxed. Soon, five lines were tied to the cart’s axle.
The rescuers scrambled over the rocks, their clothing drenched by the pounding surf.
Off to the right, one of the men with a rope around his waist climbed onto a rock and shouted, pointing. He slid off the rock and disappeared. He must have found one of the victims. If only he would have the strength to pull his burden back to shore.
“Maggie, get that group of men to gather over here. If one of those ropes tightens, tell them to leave it tied to the axle, but to line up and start pulling that rope in. On you go, lass.”
She jumped down from the cart.
Soon, the men, including Angus, squatted on the ground, watching the ropes tied to the axle. They all reacted at once when one of the ropes began to twitch.
Maggie’s teeth chattered when she rejoined Rob. He took off his jacket, helping her into it and zipping it before rolling up the sleeves.
“You’ll freeze,” she protested.
“I’m the warm-blooded one, remember?”
When that rope tightened, several men formed a line and began pulling. Within moments, four of the five ropes were being pulled in. “I hope somebody found twa fishermen,” Rob said beneath his breath, “or we’re one rope short.”
They pulled the first rope to shore.
Maggie leaped from the cart, grabbed her medical bag and several blankets, and ran to the man who dragged a limp body behind him. “’Tis Ivor. Found him behind a rock out there,” he shouted.
Rob suppressed a groan.
She leaned over the victim, placing her fingers against his carotid artery.
Rob shouted, “Would Artificial Respiration help? In that cold water, it can bring him around if he hasn’t stopped breathing too long.”
“It will do no good. His head is crushed.” Maggie closed Ivor’s staring eyes and pulled a blanket over him.
***
Every fisherman pulled in had been either pummeled to death by the surf on the rocks or was dead from drowning far too long to revive. When only one rope remained, four bodies lay beneath blankets on the shore.
Frantic voices.
Women ran across the machair. When they neared the blanket-shrouded bodies, some doubled over, keening in grief. Others stumbled forward, fell to their knees, and tore blankets away from faces, wailing with heartbreaking agony. One, a lass about Maggie’s age, held her husband’s lifeless body in her arms, rocking back and forth, kissing his dark blue, bloated face again and again.
Rob tore his gaze from the harrowing scene. “Any action on that last rope?” he shouted to Angus.
“It’s been moving a wee bit, but ... wait! Here she goes.”
Rob closed his eyes and prayed for the men at the end of this last rope. They’d been lucky so far, none of the rescuers lost, but he feared for the life of this last brave man. He’d been in the water, battling rocks and the roaring surf, a long time.
Miraculously, the last rope held three men. Rob leaned forward, stomach cramping. Men waded into the surf to pull the victims up onto the shore. The rescuer who had risked his life dropped to his knees and retched, spewing seawater onto the sand.
/> ***
Maggie grabbed some blankets and rushed to the rescuer’s side. “Get it up, Michael, all of it.” She told one of the men to strip Michael and wrap him in blankets before she hurried to the side of the closest victim. Dead—a gaping wound in the side of his head. She stepped to the side of the last victim and dropped to her knees.
Her breath caught.
Dougal MacLeod.
Only thirteen years old.
CHAPTER 37
Maggie searched for wounds. Not finding any, she placed her fingers on Dougal’s carotid. “I’ve got a pulse! Some of you men strip off his clothes so I can cover him with a blanket, and hand me that black bag. Quickly!”
“Maggie!” Rob yelled. “I’ll have somebody get me down so I can help. You start AR, or show one of the heavier men how.”
“Aye!” After the lad’s clothes were removed, she laid a blanket on the sand and told the men to place him on his belly. She covered him with another blanket, pulled his lower jaw forward, placed his arm beneath his face to raise it off the blanket, and drew his legs apart. She motioned to the burly man standing nearby. “Neil, I’m going to show you what to do. Watch me carefully.”
She placed her legs between the lad’s and put a hand on either side of his back, at the base of his ribs. She pushed with all of her might, and then fell back on her knees before leaning forward to push again. “I’m no’ heavy enough, but that’s how you do it.”
Neil followed her example.
After two pushes, water gushed from the lad’s mouth.
Maggie stayed at his head, her fingers hovering on his carotid artery.
***
Two men lifted Rob from his chair and carried him over to the victim. “Set me down here beside Maggie. I’ll monitor his pulse and breathing while she starts an IV.”
She palpated the lad’s arm, sterilized a spot, tied a piece of tubing, and inserted the needle. It took two attempts before blood rushed into the syringe. She capped it with the plunger and attached the end of the tubing into the hole, screwing it in tightly, then connected the other end to the Saline bottle, holding it high. “Tape the needle to his arm while I open the drip wide,” she said to Rob.
He reached for the bag.