Doctor Who: Target - Novelisations [090] - The Highlanders by Gerry Davis

Author:Gerry Davis
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780426196761
Publisher: Target Books
Published: 1984-12-14T23:00:00+00:00

10

Aboard the Annabelle

The destination of the Scots’ Highland prisoners was the ship’s hold. It had obviously been used for the slave trade at some time. There were benches, rusty shackles, and four small portholes, not large enough to get more than a hand and an arm through along each side. There were already some thirty men huddled on the benches, trying to sleep, when the hatch door at the top of the companionway opened, sending a shaft of light down a rough ladder, and the latest contingent of prisoners were shoved unceremoniously down to join their comrades in the already overcrowded hold.

Ben was one of the last. He peered down and saw that there was barely room for anyone to sit, never mind lie down. ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘there’s no room for anybody down here.’

‘Room enough for rebels,’ the big voice of Trask bellowed after him. ‘Get stowed below there.’

The three new arrivals finally made space near one of the portholes after some grumbling from the men who were first there.

‘How are ye?’ Jamie asked the Laird.

Colin, his eyes brighter than they had been, nodded at him. ‘Thank you, Jamie, a mickle bit better, I fancy. My fever’s nearly gone.’

Ben shook the man nearest him on the bench. ‘Hey, mate – got any ideas where they’re sending us?’ The man, a tough thick-set Scot in rough seaman’s canvas trousers and shirt, turned at at the sound of Ben’s English voice and moved away from him as though stung. ‘Beware of spies!’ he called out in a loud voice.

There was a chorus from the other prisoners who began to wake up and look around them. ‘There maen be an Englishman amongst us, Willy.’ The man spoken to, Willy MacKay, struggled to his feet: a rugged man with strong features and bright blue eyes, in his early forties. ‘We can strike one more blow for Scotland, lads, one more piece of vermin to stamp on.’

Ben backed away to the bulkhead, a circle of fierce Highland faces around him. ‘Once down, put your boots on him. Tramp his English bones to the deck. And remember, lads,’ Willy called, ‘the first blow is mine.’

There was a moment’s silence as MacKay raised his huge gnarled fist, then a clear voice rang out over the assembled men.

‘Will MacKay would ne’er strike a friend of the Prince.’

MacKay fell back. ‘What? Whose voice is that?’

Colin McLaren raised himself to his feet a little shakily, aided by Jamie. ‘You havena been so long away ye kenna recognise me?’

‘’Tis,’ Willy looked closely at the Laird, ‘Colin McLaren himself.’ He clasped Colin’s hand warmly.

Colin nodded. The men around began to relax.

‘And Jamie,’ said Colin. ‘The son of Donald McCrimmon, a piper like his father and his father’s father.’

‘Aye, with no pipe,’ said Jamie a little sadly.

Willy nodded to Jamie and then turned to Ben. ‘And this Englishman is a friend of the Prince?’

‘He’s aye a friend of mine,’ said Colin. ‘He helped bring me here, weak but alive.’

‘Then I humbly crave your pardon, sir,’ said Willy.

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