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The next days brought more icebergs, and the ship had to take care to steer clear of the larger ones. They were not the ‘curse of the sea’ someone had called them, but they were still a dangerous mass to be avoided. Neil and Muirne related the story to their family below deck. Neil felt his stepfather stiffen with insult when he heard how the sailor had laughed at them all.
“Tha’s no’ right,” Gillan said. Sheila shook her head, clucking.
“But you know what it means, don’t ye?” Neil asked. They looked at him. “We’re near land!” A smile of relief broke out on his mother’s face. Neil continued. “The crew has not warned us of the progress for some time, but we must be close in. I bet we’ll be sighting the channels and islands any time now.”
“Where are we stopping at first, Gil?” Sheila asked.
“They come in on the north side of Nova Scotia, call at the Port of Pictou, then proceed up the St. Lawrence River to the capital. It’ll depend on the weather when they go on, but we shall have to see the situation in Pictou before deciding,” he recited, as if he’d reasoned it out before.
“Of course,” Sheila replied.
Neil caught Muirne’s eye and they retreated to a corner of their six-foot stretch of floor. She whispered to him. “What do you want to do, Neil?”
“I dinna know. I canna tell if it would be better to go to the capital and find a sailing or shipbuilding outfit, or stay on the outer island to get a farm going. They said there was still land to claim for farming in Nova Scotia, so that might be the way of it.”
“Unless they were lying,” Muirne said.
Neil gave a sharp sigh. “We will find what we find,” he said. “I wonder about the Scots already there,” he wondered aloud. “And who else is there. Do you suppose there are natives up here as well?”
Muirne let go a small gasp. “I haven’t thought of that since before Christmas!” she said. “Safety in numbers, Mr. Cartwright said.” She pulled her knees up closer to her chest where she sat, wrapping her arms around her legs. Neil felt the shiver run through her frame. He leaned over so that their sides touched. “Dinna fash. I’m sure the Scots from before will have taken care of ‘em.” His face had a small smile on it. Muirne sighed, the many possibilities still racing through her head about what they would find once they arrived. Wouldn’t be long now.
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That night they stayed moored in one place, swaying as the waves rocked the boat wildly. They must be very close, thought Neil. In order to remain above deck, he bundled himself up in as many layers as he’d brought, and placed his back against several of the large rain barrels as a wind-break. He hoped to see the light come up and reveal the land they’d been searching for.
He was not disappointed. The dark blue of the early morning was chased up and over the sky by the lightening pink, and as he followed its progress, the ship plowed away from it. His eyes picked up the birds that came out to meet the ship, another sign land was close by. Finally, he thought he saw a gash of black on the horizon that was not just the water meeting the sky. Sure enough, it grew bigger, floating off to their left as the crew tacked off to the right.
He thought about going down to fetch Muirne or Alisdair, but couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off the sight. Over six weeks, and all of April gone, spent in pursuit of this dream of new land. His small journal had been full for days, and it held his doubts and fears, his confused hopes.
Neil wondered whether or not history would repeat itself. When he’d mentioned other Scots to his sister, he’d been thinking of how they’d known each other back at home, known who was important, whose job it was to organize the clan. It might be very different here, but the only thing Neil could think of was meeting up and talking with the older settlers to see where they came from, and find someone who would help the MacLeans because of kinship ties. It was better that than charity from the kirk, although they would need that as well.
Neil’s thoughts drifted to their utter poverty now. Back on Mull, he hadn’t felt so vulnerable, as they had the house, and the land, and the laird, and the family and neighbors. Even in Glasgow, they’d had connections for a job and family and the kirk to turn to. But here, who did they know from home? No one but the Wilsons, who’d decided to go on to Quebec City.
No one owed them anything. And did they have any savings to purchase the land they might find to farm? None at all: it had all gone for passage fare.
We still have each other, and we’re resourceful, Neil thought. When we’re together, he amended, as the terrible thought of his mother and sisters and brother alone in the glen came upon him again. We must not split up, he reasoned. The talk of continuing up the river to Montreal was now foolishness in his mind, but he could not say that to Gillan, who seemed committed to the possibility.
The light pink had turned to white, and the cold winds continued to blow them toward the land on the left, with the sailors maneuvering to keep the ship steady on its course between Cape Breton Island and Prince Edward Island. These were names Neil had learned from one of Muirne’s interested young men, who shared a well-creased, waxen map of eastern Canada showing where they would be landing and where the great St. Lawrence River wound its way through the continent.
It was a bit nerve-wracking, to entertain these young men, since he had to walk a fine line: being courteous to acquaintances on the ship and fiercely protecting his sister. Neil wished they would just leave her alone, but on a small ship during a long confinement in close quarters, he knew she appreciated the diversion.
Nonetheless, he had made one friend: a John MacPherson. He was nineteen years old and on the boat with his three sisters. Their parents had died in a fire, the young man had explained briefly, and Neil did not ask whether it had been set in a croft house. His family came from further north, up in Sutherland, farmers of oats and potatoes. Theirs had been a winding road, from the eastern coast below Wick to emigrating to Aberdeen, to being thrown out yet again. They had not been used to sailing on their farm, and found the motion of the seas not to their liking. John and one sister fared better than the other two, who’d been ill most of the voyage. John and his middle sister Elsbeth had tended to them with water and broth, and they were very weak.
As Neil listened, he realized how lucky his family were, all six of them without the seasickness. Maybe I should be thanking God after all, he thought.