EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

Eli gathered all his belongings and closed the lid to his small trunk.
'I guess that's it. Amazing how little you can get by on,' he thought.
Davis came in with a bottle of rum and wordlessly handed it to him.
"I'm sure going to miss you, Jacob."
"You'll be missed too, Eli. You may not have been the best sailor but you sure proved your mettle during the mutiny. I'm sorry to see you go."
Eli took a swig and passed it back to Davis.
"I'll leave my things here. It will give me an excuse to come back and say goodbye to the night watch."
Davis tipped his hat to Eli. "Let me know when you go. Meeting at Mad Jack's...damn, that's serious."

After Davis left, Eli reached into his pouch and counted his coins.
'Should be enough to get me to the Azores and maybe lodging for a few days. If I don't eat much.'
He thought back to the man who became a father figure to him.
Josiah Briggs.
'I'll miss him most of all. Kind of like when I left home.'
He sighed and pulled on a fresh shirt.
'May as well get this over quickly...'

~~~~~~~~~~~

He jumped out of the wagon and handed the driver a coin.
"Thanks for the ride, mister."
"Best to you, lad, wherever the wind takes you."

Eli stood before the big house and stared. Yep, Mad Jack Wolfe did alright for himself. Beautiful home...beautiful wife...beautiful daughter...
Yet none of that went to Captain Wolfe's head. He ate and drank with his crew except when Honour was on board.
He removed his ever-present knitted cap and twisted it nervously in his hands. He glanced down to see that he poked yet another hole in the weave.
'Damn...another hole. And this is the one that Mrs. Wolfe bought me.
Ringing the door, he stood back, dread washing over him.

He held his breath when he heard the heavy latch for the door turn. But to his surprise, instead of being greeted by Mr. or Mrs. Avery, Eli found himself face to face with Jack Wolfe.
"Eli! Good, you made it. Come in, come in!"
Jack stepped aside to allow the young man in. Eli stepped inside the door hesitantly. He looked around, noting immediately that everyone save him was dressed in their finery. All but a couple of the faces were people he knew.
"Um, am I... interrupting something?"
"Not at all," replied Jack. "We've been waiting for you. But I do owe you an apology."
"Whatever for?"
"First, for telling you the wrong time to be here. Should have been six instead of six-thirty. Second, I neglected to tell you it was a dinner invitation."
"A.. dinner? Me?" stammered Eli.
"Well, that is if you feel up to staying. We have a bit of business to attend to beforehand." Jack motioned towards his study. "Right this way, if you please. Mister Briggs and Mister Llewellyn will be joining us. Ladies, I promise not to keep them long!"

Eli did not know whether to feel confused or worried as he followed Jack into the study. Behind him were Briggs and the unfamiliar man he noticed when he came in. He sat in one of the padded leather chairs Jack motioned to as Briggs closed the study doors.
"A brandy, Eli?" offered Jack.
"Um, yes. I mean, no, thank you."
"Well, which is it?"
"I'm not sure. I've never had brandy before, sir."
"Do you have a taste for rum?" asked Jack as he poured glasses for everyone.
"Yes, a little."
Jack handed him a glass. "Good. You'll like it. It's nothing at all like rum."
Eli sniffed it, then took a small sip. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the complex flavours.
"Good?" asked Jack.
"I think so. I'm not sure."
"Ye'll get used to it quick enough," smiled Briggs.

Eli's nagging worry refused to go away. Everything seemed pleasant enough, but he felt as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Jack took his chair behind his desk and looked over some papers. Finally, he clasped his hands in front of himself on the desk and looked toward Eli.
"How are you, Eli?" asked Jack.
"Fine," the young man answered. "And... confused. What exactly is all this about?"
"Good. Right to the point. I like that. Well, Eli, Master Briggs and I have been talking. He told me how unhappy you seem to be with life aboard ship."

There it is, thought Eli. The other shoe, thudding into the pit of his stomach.
"I... I know I haven't been the best hand aboard, but I do try hard. My knots are a mess, I admit, but I've been learning to splice lines and I'm getting quite good at it. And I swear, I'll remember to tie off the cargo netting properly next time. All I ask is another chance, please, Captain Wolfe!"

[Welsh Wench]

Jack shot a quick questioning look to Briggs, who briefly shook his head. He took a sip of brandy, then tapped his fingers on the desk.
"Eli, not every man is meant for a life at sea. Some are born to it, and some take to it like a second nature. It's not an easy life no matter how well adjusted to it some seem, and for others it is an uphill battle every day. There's no shame in admitting if this is not the life for you."
"It may not be the best life for me," said Eli, a note of stern determination coming into his voice, "but it's the only life I have."
"What if I gave you a choice?"
"A choice? What choices does someone like me get? Go home to England and start over? That's not much of a choice."
"You could do that," said Jack. "Or you could stay here and work for me."
"But, I thought you were letting me go from your crew."

"I've been remiss in making introductions," said Jack. "Eli, this is Dafydd Llewellyn, my brother-in-law. His wife, Megan, is Honour's sister. They've just moved here from Wales. Dafydd has agreed to manage the operations of my plantation."
Eli gave Dafydd a puzzled look. "Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," smiled Dafydd. "Jack and Josiah tell me you used to farm. Is that correct?"
"Yes, I did. I guess I was better at tilling soil than I am trimming sails."
"My role here is more to the business side of things," explained Dafydd. "But we still need someone to oversee the actual work being done. Someone who knows intimately what needs to be done and how."
"And that person, we believe, is you, Eli," said Jack.

"Do what? Me?" blurted Eli.
"Your heart is more with the land than it's ever been with the sea, lad," said Josiah. "And the land is where ye'd be the happiest if that's the case. No point in fightin' your nature, less ye enjoy misery."

Eli looked from man to man in amazement. "I... I don't know what to say. This is such a generous offer! But, I know how to farm, not how to tell people how to farm. Wouldn't Master Briggs be a better choice?"
Briggs shook his head. "I wouldn't know a ploughshare if ye dropped one on me. Besides, I wasn't born a quartermaster. I had to learn it."
"And I'll be happy to teach you the ins and outs," added Dafydd.

Somewhere during the course of the conversation, Eli had set aside his drink and pulled out his cap again, which he wrung nervously in his hands. "I still don't know what to say..."
"Before you say anything," said Jack, "there's a small matter of living arrangements. You still live aboard ship?"
Eli nodded yes.
"That won't do. Nor would you living in town. There's a modest little cottage here on the property, off on its own and fairly private. A bit run down, but the roof is still good. It would be yours to fix up and live in. Think of it as part of your salary."

Eli stared at Jack in disbelief, not even noticing he had poked yet another hole in his tattered cap.
Jack held up his hand. "I know, you don't know what to say. Eli, you're like family to us. That first link was forged in fire, and I've never forgotten the courage you ultimately showed. Loyalty goes both ways with me. As for what you should say? I'm hoping it's yes."

Eli stared at his tattered cap as he turned it over in his hands. "I never have been much of a sailor. I've always been happiest on dry land." He sighed heavily. "But what if I fail as this, too?"
"Are you planning to fail, Mister Meredith?" asked Jack.
"No, sir. I'm not."
"Then why are ye borrowin' trouble?" asked Briggs. "Nobody is makin' ye take this offer, lad. It is, though, bein' offered by people what want to see ye succeed. Think on that whilst ye strangle that poor cap some more."

The young man looked at his cap, then stuffed it back into his pocket with a smile.
"Master Briggs, you're right. All of you are. Captain Wolfe, I accept your offer. I'd be proud to work here at your plantation."
Jack beamed as he stepped around his desk to shake Eli's hand. "You're making the right choice, Eli. But one thing; you can quit calling me Captain. Jack will do just fine."
"I'll try, Capt-- I mean, I will, Jack."
Daffyd was next to shake his hand. "I know we'll get along famously, Eli. Between the two of us, we'll have this plantation running smooth as silk. We'll talk over the details of when you start after dinner."
"Thank you, Mister Llew... um..."
"Dafydd is fine!" he smiled.

Eli smiled sheepishly as the realisation of how much his life was about to change began to creep into his consciousness. But before he could say another word in reply, Briggs was firmly shaking his hand.
"I'm proud of ye, Eli. It takes a brave man to change course even if the wind is against him. I know you'll do us all proud."
Briggs' simple words of encouragement were enough to chase away the spectre of doubt from Eli's mind. "Thank you. I'll do my best!"

Jack cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Gentlemen! Normally I would be pouring a fresh round of celebratory drinks, but dinner has already been delayed long enough. I don't want to face the ire of hungry womenfolk! Let's retire to the dining room. We can finish any leftover business afterwards."

Briggs opened the study door, and the men began filing out. Eli found himself walking in a happy daze, his head swimming from the turn of events. Just when he was certain the day's end would see him penniless and bound for England, he was now the overseer of a plantation!"

"Eli! Eli, wait!"
He snapped out of his reverie at the sound of a woman's voice. He turned to see who had called to him.
To his surprise, Honour handed Eli a package wrapped with a red ribbon.
"Wh--what is this?"
"It's for you, Eli."

He carefully unwrapped the package. Inside was a straw hat. She explained, "It was woven by the creole weavers. Using palm fronds and intricately weaving it. I thought it was only fitting seeing that you would have to be in the sun."
He hesitated. "Honour...what would you have done if I had said no?"
She sighed. "I'd have to give it to Jack. And he's not the straw hat type. But one thing...."
"What's that?"
"Please don't go poking holes in it!"
Eli laughed softly and put the hat jauntily on his head.
"How does it look?"
"Like you belong, Eli. Like you've always belonged."

[Welsh Wench]

Three months later......

"Come in."
Jack looked up from his papers.
"Well, I didn't expect to see ye behind the desk ever again."
"There are some things that need the attention of the owner."

Jack ran his hands over his face. "So....glad to see you made it back  with my ship. How is our dear Will?"
Josiah smiled, "Same as always. Seems to forget that I am the acting captain of El Lobo del Mar on this run and doesn't realize he can't boss me around."
"Well, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. His bark is always worse than his bite."
"Welcome to the Jack Wolfe cliche soiree."

Jack held out his hand.
"Those papers for me?"
"Will said to make sure you get them."
"Mission accomplished, Josiah. How was the run?"
"Smooth as silk. Ported in Havana for two days."
"Any news of our old nemesis?"
"Heard that old Mendoza is now a cripple."
"Aw, I feel SO bad."
"Doesn't hardly leave the hacienda much. His son has taken over."
"Son? Didn't know he had one."
Josiah nodded. "Name of Tranquillo. And he's anything but. He's about twenty and tries to be tough like his father."
"And the mother is....?"
"Dear Mercedes."

Jack frowned.
"Don't worry, Jack. He don't look a thing like you."
He visibly relaxed. "I wasn't worried. Not me. But if he did, I bet Diego wouldn't let  him live."

Jack poured Briggs a brandy.
"And the shipment was acceptable to Harkness?"
Briggs nodded. "He doesn't care where it comes from as long as he gets his molasses."
"I paid pretty deep in the purse from Peter Tallman. But as long as I fulfill my contract, the shipment arrives on time and we get paid, then I'm happy."
"Here's the bank draft."
Jack held it up to the light and then grinned. "Just making sure. Although I know Will wouldn't screw us out of the money. And how did Phillip do on this run?"
Josiah puffed up his chest with pride.
"Excellent! I couldn't ask for a better crewman. He's a whiz at reading navigational charts and he even kept the log book. Learned it from.....*cough* he did really well and was precise. Very thorough and methodical through and through and leaves nothing to chance."
"Wonderful! Well, he has the best teacher. I may not say it often enough, Josiah, but I'm grateful fate brought us together that day in Bristol."
Josiah blushed. "Jack, as crazy as you are, I wouldn't have missed this ride through life with you for anything."

Jack looked off in the distance out the window. He watched Honour as she played with Zara on the lawn.
"Something on your mind, Jack?"
He sighed. "Man talk, Josiah?"
"I qualify."
Jack went to close the door.
"Lay it on me then."
"I don't understand why Honour isn't expecting yet. Lord knows the opportunity is there."
"Have ye talked it over with her?"
Jack shrugged. "A few times. She doesn't seem concerned."
"Zara is...what? Two?"
"Just turned."
"And ye can take into account the eighteen months that Honour was away. That leaves six months. Give it time, lad."
"Honour hinted I may be.....depleted."
Briggs roared with laughter. "She's havin' you on, Jack."
"Yeah...I know. I guess I want the life my mother wanted for me. I want to do right by her. After all, she deserves her family to go on. Even though she doesn't know it."
"Hankering for the life you want to."
"A man gets this age and he wants to be immortalized, I guess."
"I get the feeling things are crossing your mind. Regrets and such."
Jack took a sip of brandy.
"I guess."
"Scotland on your mind?"
He shrugged.
"Sorry you didn't make things right when you had the chance?"
"Since when did you get philosophical, Josiah?"
"I've always been this way, Jack. You were too busy scheming and planning the next caper to notice."
Jack smiled. 
"You want to stay for dinner?"
"Thanks, but no. I have a date with a redhead who I have neglected for a month."
Jack smirked. "Then carry on, Captain Briggs."
Josiah gave him a mock salute. "Aye aye, Captain Wolfe."
"Dinner on Sunday  and bring Renee and Phillip?"
"Will do."

After Josiah left, Jack picked up the packet bound with Harkness's signature red ribbon tie.
"I'll deal with it later. Like after supper."
He looked at the top invoice.
"Or maybe the next day."
He thumbed through the packet.
"Alright, let's make it Thursday."

[Welsh Wench]

Honour was sitting on the bed, looking at a few bolts of silk that had arrived via Josiah.
"Which do you like, Jack?"
He hung his shirt on the peg next to the armoire. No room in there because it was filled with Honour's gowns. He glanced over.
"The yellow is nice. And so is the deep red."
"Those cotton bolts over there are for Morwenna's and Zara's dresses."
He kissed her cheek.
She added, "And I am not even going to ask how Josiah came by them."
"Good girl." Jack laughed.  "And what have we here?"
"Kee!"

Zara was proudly holding up Evie who had Honour's pearl necklace wrapped around her neck.
"Honour? Should Evie be wearing this?"
"Zara! No, no! We do not go into Mama's drawer."
Zara stuck her lower lip out as Honour unwound the necklace from the cat's neck.
"Honour, she was just playing."
"Jack, she has to know what she can and can't do. You spoil her."
He picked her up and nuzzled her neck. Zara giggled.
"Yes, I do! And is there a problem with that?"

Honour sighed and then smiled. "No, there isn't."
He put Zara down and she toddled off.
"And no, you cannot smoke your pipe in the bedroom."
Honour snatched the pipe out of his hand just as he put it to his mouth. She marched over to the balcony and dumped the tobacco over the side.
"Oh, Honour, come on!"
"I don't want the smell of smoke up here and--oh no!"

Honour looked up just in time to see Zara throw her pearl necklace over the balcony.
Jack burst out laughing.
"It's not funny, Jack. Zara Jane, no! That was bad!"
She smacked her hand and Zara started to cry.
Jack made a move towards her and she stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"No, she has to know she can't do things like that. What I need you to do is go outside and find it."
"Honour, it's dark out there. It can wait till morning."
"Jack, those are pearls. You gave me them after we had that argument."
"And as I recall you gave me something special for the clasp."
She felt her face blush. "I really need you to get it for me, Jack. I'll tend to Zara."
He sighed and said, "If I didn't love you so much...."

He lit the lantern kept by the back door and went out searching. Within five minutes he found it hanging on a branch of the hibiscus bush.
Putting it in his pocket, he passed his study and remembered the packet of mail from Will Harkness that Josiah had given him earlier that day.
'Invoices...invoices....invoices....receipts....personal...personal?"
He picked up the envelope and put it in his pocket.

[Welsh Wench]

"Here's the necklace. Landed on a branch."
Honour was singing softly to Zara in Welsh. Their daughter was lying on the bed and raised her head when her father came into the room but laid back down, her eyes heavy with sleep. Honour put her finger to her lips and whispered, 'just a little bit more and she will be asleep."
She gently stroked her daughter's hair as she continued her lullaby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack sat down on the bed and pulled the letter out of his pocket as Honour picked a sleeping Zara up and put her in her own bed.

"She wore herself out at the beach today. Megan and I took the children."
Jack unfolded the pages and smoothed out the paper.
"Mmmhmm...."
"...and then we brought a picnic lunch...."
"That's nice, darling....."
"...and the children started a seashell collection...."
"Oh, really?"
"....and I decided to leave you and run off with Eli Meredith."
"Have fun, sweetheart."
"Jack, you haven't heard a word I said."
He looked up.
"What?"
"Never mind."
She put her pearl necklace back in the jewelry box.

"That must be some intriguing letter from Will."
She slipped her gown down around her shoulders and nuzzled his ear.
Jack continued to read intently.
She sat back and folded her arms, a pout on her face.
"What, pray tell, is so interesting that you are ignoring your wife?"

He looked up at her and quietly asked, "Have you heard of the Stone of Scotland? Sometimes called the Stone of Destiny?"
Honour shrugged. "A little. I didn't pay much attention. I AM Welsh, remember?"
She looked at his face.  The determined look he got when a notion was brewing.
"I think Will knows where it is or who does know. And it is not in Scotland. By rights, it should be."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"What do you mean, you think Will knows where it is? How can he when he is in the colonies?"
Jack frowned, "There is so much here to absorb."
She snuggled up next to Jack and laid her head on his shoulder.
"So....read me the letter. Maybe putting it into words out loud will make more sense."
"Not without some wine."

He got up and walked over to the small cabinet, looking over the collection of bottles. Taking two chalices he had acquired from a Spanish vessel in '52, he poured from a bottle of brandy that Josiah happened to deliver earlier.
"Brandy?" asked Honour.
"Captain's prerogative," he replied with a small smile.
"This must be some letter, Jack."
"It is."
He took a sip and set his chalice on the table next to the bed.
Unfolding the papers, he began to read.

My Most Erstwhile Captain Wolfe,

I have sent this packet back with your quartermaster, Josiah. I shall trust he has delivered it safely to you.

There is an old family story, one kept very close to the vest, that has been handed down solely to the first-born male children. As you know, my father died before I had aged a year. So how did I come by it? Pour yourself a brandy - or better, rum, as I know your tastes - and settle in for a story. I shall wait.

My uncle Malachi Harkness died childless. My brother Joseph and I were named as executors of his estate. Joseph, being the elder yet least industrious of us, was left the land. I was entrusted with a pathetic merchant vessel, 1200 pounds sterling, and a sealed envelope. Of all of these, the envelope held the richest treasure. At least I hope it does. That I will leave to you.

The merchant vessel served me well, as you know. Upon it I built a dynasty you are a legacy of. But that envelope. It took me years to finally break its seal and gaze upon what Uncle Malachi had to share. Now I, childless as I am, will share that information with you. I would never tell you this in person, Jack. But I have always regarded you as the son I never had. And I will deny with my last breath ever having told you such. But this matter I am about to impart to you transcends such frivolous concerns. It impacts the very blood that courses through our veins. Allow me to explain.

The family legend I alluded to earlier has it that a Harkness was there when Edward I, the Hammer of the Scots, Longshanks himself, conquered Scotland. It would seem a Harkness is always in the thick of things, eh? To make the story even more interesting, the legend goes on to say that my grandfather - however many generations back no one is certain, and I am disinclined to do the maths - was present when the Stone of Scotland was removed.

You are a half-Scot, which I shall not hold against you. Perhaps you know the story of the Stone of Scotland, the Stone of Scone, also known as the Stone of Destiny. I will err on the side of reasonableness and assume your upbringing in England, and your dispute with your grandmother, has deprived you of such riches.

The Stone of Destiny, or the Stone of Scone as it is also known, was held at Scone Abbey since the day it was brought there from Iona, where it had roared out of the sky one bright, shining day. That jet black hunk of rock was used to officially coronate the kings of Scotland, from Alpin hence. Upon it was engraved in Latin, "If fates are kind, wherever this stone be found, the Scots shall monarchs of that land be found." An Lia Fáil, our ancestors called it. The Stone of Fate, The Stone of Destiny. But why am I prattling on about it?

Edward I of England, that bastard we know as Longshanks, stole the Stone and removed it to England as a souvenir of his conquest of Scotland. What better way to rub it into the face of every loyal Scot than to take that which they held most dear?

An interesting note about Longshanks' campaign... he bragged a full three months prior that he would take the Stone back to England as a prize. Why? Because setting his spotted arse on it would make him king of Scotland as well as England. A sorry attempt to force the unification of Scotland with England. Word of his intent quickly found its way to Scone, and the monks of the abbey hurriedly removed the Stone to a place of safe concealment that only a scarce few were privy to the knowledge of. Meanwhile, a replacement - hewn from the native lower old red sandstone and expertly made as a mockery of the original - was prepared and put in place. What they neglected to fake was the wear of pole marks where the Stone would be carried to the place of coronation from generation to generation. But that mattered little to the conquering jackass. Edward triumphantly carried the forgery home to its place in England's Coronation Chair, where false kings and queens may take their rightful place, as they do to this day.

Another note of interest: three months after Edward carried home his trophy, agents of the Crown returned to Scone and tore the place apart brick by brick. They levelled the abbey in search of something. Something they were missing, and desperate to find. I believe it was the Stone. They knew they had a fake, and the king needed to save face.

My point in all of this? If you do not believe me, go to Westminster Abbey for yourself. Look at the Coronation Chair. "Saint Edward's Chair" as some call it. Quite the nauseating joke, that. Examine its oak and paint and gilding. Then look at that stone. Look at its reddish and ochre hues. The true Stone is nearly black. Metallic. Scorched and tempered from its fall from the heavens. Otherworldly. What are you looking at? I would call it a fake. What would you call it, Mister Wolfe?

And that is what I am driving at, Jack. My ancestors carried the knowledge that the Stone of Scone, the Stone of Destiny, has been hidden away. Far from the clutches of England's false monarchy. But how far? Not as far as you would think. "Nestled privily twixt the two, yet farther one 'ere the other" it is, from what they say. And that is the least of the riddles you will find. What it means, I cannot offer any clarification. Save that the answers lie with the far reaches of the Clan MacGregor. Is that not your clan, Jack?

I hate to open old wounds, knowing how things ended with your Gran. But there it is. It is up to you to sort the riddles out from here, if you so choose. I have seen how domesticity has tamed you, my friend. I will understand if the safeness of home and hearth has sapped your desire for adventure. A pity if it has. I saw such promise in you.

All my best to Honour and your delightful daughter Zara.

Yours Faithfully,

Admiral Will Harkness

[Welsh Wench]

 
Jack folded the letter and laid it beside the bedside table. Honour walked over to the French doors and looked out towards the water.
"You're leaving," she said softly.
"What?"
"You're leaving. You are going on another adventure. It's Martinique all over."
He rose out of bed and crossed over to face her. The tears were beginning to well up in her eyes.
"What makes you think I will go?"
"Josiah just came back so El Lobo will be at your disposal. Will Harkness is taunting--yes, taunting!--you from the Colonies, just daring you to go on another wild quest. I honestly believe he wants to see us apart. Out of jealousy or what, I don't know."
"Honour, I haven't even considered going."
"But you will. I know that look, Jack Wolfe."
"Darling, I said I would never leave you again. I swore that when we got back together. And I don't want to miss another day in Zara's life."
He kissed her and led her back to the bed, drawing back the covers.
"And besides, I would miss this." He pointed to the bed.
She gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry. I get worried because everything is going so well. A part of me is wondering if this can last."

Honour laid there propping herself up on her elbow. She took the chalice from Jack's hand as he was ready to take a sip.
"I need a bedtime story."
"Oh, you do, do you? A pirate story? Here goes....One fine summer evening on the island of Hispanola, Briggs and I---"
She put her finger to his lips.
"No. No pirate story. You embellish them anyways."
"What? What do you mean?"
"I check my facts with Duckie. Although I must say your stories are amusing. No, I want a different kind of story."
"What do you want?"
"I want to know what happened between you and your grandmother."

Jack shrugged. "I haven't thought of it in years."
"Jack, that is not true. Your mind races all the time. Forward...and backwards. You see yesterday and ten years ago as beads on a string, there for you to pick up and examine in detail. So dip down into the recesses of your mind and tell me the story. As the mother of your children, I have a right to know their heritage."
"Honour, is this your way of telling me you are--"
She put her finger to his lips.
"No, it's not. Believe me, when I am, I will do it in a spectacular way. Wine, candles, dinner. So now...you had better tell me the story. I will pester you until you do."
Jack sighed. "Very well."

"The Wolfe family dynamics are... odd, to say the least. The last thing I want to do is bore you with it."
"Indulge me," said Honour. She gave Jack an empathetic smile he found comforting.
"Hmm. Well, I suppose the beginning is a good place to start. And it all started with a Scottish lass named Edythe MacGregor falling in love with a bookish Englishman named Charles Wolfe. Aggie - Agnes MacGregor, matriarch of the Kinloch Rannoch sept of the Clan MacGregor and my maternal grandmother..."

"I love the way you roll your r's when you say those Scottish names."
"Now you know why I'm so good at making you--"
Honour slapped his chest. "That's enough! Get back to your story."
"You started it, love."
"And you can finish it later. Go on with the tale and we'll negotiate afterwards."
"Well, who can say no to that? Anyway, Aggie was none to pleased to find out about my mum's love interest. Care to guess why?"
"He was English?"
"Worse. He was Protestant."
Honour drew a deep breath. "Cachu," she muttered.

"I know just enough Welsh to know what that means, and I agree. Aggie wouldn't countenance a wedding between her daughter and an infidel. Fortunately her husband, Tommy, talked her into it."
"I think I would have liked Tommy."
"And Tommy would have liked you, believe me. 'Tom Cat' MacGregor, they called him. And with good reason. All the ladies loved Tommy, and Tommy loved all the ladies. As many as he could bed, that is. And in a tiny town like Kinloch Rannoch, word gets around fast."

Her eyes widened. "I'm beginning to see where your libido comes from!"

"Good breeding, or at least frequent, will out. But back to the story. Despite Aggie's misgivings about the marriage - and by 'misgivings' I mean she threatened to shoot my father after he and my mum eloped - my mum kept a close relationship with her."
"Wait, you said Tommy talked her into approving the marriage."
"He did, by convincing Aggie to put the pistol down. To be sure, the early years were tense. It would seem that the introduction of grandchildren into the mix helped smooth over the rough patches. It was always a grand time visiting there. That's how I learned to ride horses and fire a pistol accurately. Tommy was forever running afoul of the local constabulary, so he had a lot of practical knowledge to pass on."

"Always good to know you have a career as a highwayman to fall back on. But, what went wrong?"
Jack sighed. "A number of things, I suppose. First, I missed my grandfather's funeral. I had just started university and couldn't afford to miss classes. That didn't matter in Aggie's eyes, blood being thicker than water and all that. But the breaking point came when my father passed on."
"How so? Your religious differences? I thought you said he was Protestant."
"He was. Yet Aggie insisted upon a Catholic memorial for him. My mum, in the fragile state she was in, agreed. Let me tell you, Aggie had it all planned out. The church was secured, her favourite priest was brought in to preside, and the whole town was put on alert to be there. And they were."

"I still don't understand. Why did the two of you have a falling out?"
"I was certain she and I would have a falling out over my refusal to take communion."
Honour looked at him in surprise. "Why on earth would you refuse that?"
"Because," he said quietly, "it is a misapplication of scripture. Jesus' last earthly meal was on the anniversary of Passover. That happens once a year. There was no instruction to commemorate it on a daily basis. Therefore, it should rightly be observed annually on Nisan 14 at sundown, and at no other time than that. But the church has twisted that teaching for their own gain."

"I never thought of it that way. More importantly, I had no idea you actually study the Bible."
"I'm full of surprises. I enjoy reading different philosophies, yes. But there's nothing like a steady diet of plain old truth. However, that's not why Aggie and I had the falling out."
"What could be more divisive than religious differences?"
"Simple. I refused to wear a kilt. Thomas, military man that he is, had no problem with following orders. But me? Never."
You refused to wear a kilt?"
"I told Gran that out of respect for my da, I refuse to dress like a horse."

"How did the horse fit into it?"
"She brought out a plaid tartan. I went to the barn and brought in Fergus'--that was the horse--I brought in his blanket and told her it was the same fabric and if Fergus was showing up wearing it, I wasn't."

Despite herself, Honour found herself starting to giggle.
"Oh, Jack! That is so YOU!"
"People have the mistaken notion that if you are wearing a kilt, you are wearing nothing under it."
"So...what is worn under it?"
He kissed her and whispered huskily, "You of all people should know nothing is worn. Everything is in perfect working order."

She stretched out luxuriously and smiled at him.
"Jack?"
"Yes?"
"Roll your r's for me. In the best way you know how!"
He grinned and blew the candle out.

Later that night, despite the fact that he should have slept very well,  Jack tossed and turned all night. Dreams of kilts and ceillidh, bagpipes and Scottish cows fillled his head.
Tommy and Agnes MacGregor.
And the final argument over a horse blanket.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack sat in his chaise on the back verandah as the sun was setting. He was enjoying his pipe as was his custom since Honour would not allow it in the house.
"Jack? I thought I would find you out here."
He took a deep draw on his pipe, lighting the remnants of his tobacco in the pipe bowl.
"Just taking the evening air and relaxing."
He held his arm out and Honour sat on his lap, putting her arms around his neck.
She laid her head on his chest.
"I'm going to miss all this, Jack."
"The house?"
"The house. Megan and Dafydd, the cousins for Zara. Mrs. Avery's good cooking."
"And our bedroom?"
She laughed. "That goes without saying. But we haven't let it stop us. The  captain's quarters are quite nice."

Jack was unusually silent.
"Jack? Are you sure you want to go through with this? Maybe things are better left as they were."
He shook his head.
"No, I need to prove this to myself."
"Is it because of Will Harkness challenging you to do something for your fellow countrymen?"
"Maybe. And I guess maybe I want some sort of closure with Scotland and the MacGregor family. End it with a clean conscience."
"Then we need to go."

He dumped the pipeweed out and asked, "Honour, have you ever been to a ceilidh?"
"A...what?"
"A ceilidh. It's a bit of a Scottish party."
She touched her forehead to his and sighed.
"Do I have to keep reminding you I am Welsh? We didn't have a... ceilidh, you call it?"
"It's a grand time. The locals come with their fiddles and bagpipes and play lively tunes while the rest of us who are not musically inclined dance."
"It sounds like a grand time!"
"Oh, it is. Perhaps there will be one and I can escort the prettiest girl there."
"Planning on taking a local lass, are you?"
"Now who is being silly?"
"Who was she, Jack?" she teased.
"Elspeth MacDonnell."
"Hmm...red hair, hazel eyes?"
"How did you know?"
"Lucky guess. So..what about Elspeth?"
"I kissed her."
"I thought as much."
"We were thirteen."
She laughed. "Then I shant be jealous. Unless she is still there. And unmarried."
"And on that note, now that you have me thinking warm thoughts on Elspeth, I think we should finish this conversation upstairs."
Honour jumped up quickly, drew her skirts up in her hands and said over her shoulder, "Race you to the bedroom!"
Jack laughed as the flash of her skirt rounded the corner.
"No, Honour my sweetness. Elspeth can't hold a candle to you," as he tucked his pipe in his pocket and sprinted upstairs.

Honour laid in the bed, her elbow propping her up.
"What do you have there?"
"Oh...this. It's a letter to Agnes. A combination apology and warning. I am not sure of it though."
"Read it to me and then I will tell you what I think."
Jack unfolded the vellum paper and began---


Dear Gran:

I am sure this letter comes as a complete surprise to you after having broken contact with each other formally. I knowThomas has kept you informed as to my whereabouts as he has let me know how you are in my correspondence and rare meetings with him.

I know we have had our differences and I truly regret that it has caused a wedge between the family ties. The guilt will always be with me that I didn't make it back in time for Mother's funeral.
I was rounding Gibraltar on our way to Morocco and since I had no control over the ship's destination, that is why I couldn't get back in time.

That being said, I have come to a point in my life where I find it necessary to mend fences as it were. You see before you a remorseful grandson who has let pride and stubbornness get the better of him.

My enterprise of importing the fine Scottish woolens and tweeds from the motherland has led me to be in Scotland during the month of April. I should like to come for a visit and have  you meet my wife and your granddaughter who is now two years old.

Respectfully,

Your grandson John Wolfe.

He shrugged. "Does it sound sincere enough?"
"I certainly hope you meant those words. Otherwise you had me fooled, and I shall have to become one of those suspicious wives."
You can put away your cloak and dagger, my love," he smiled. "I meant it all. Well, almost all."
"The importing business part was a nice touch. And it will be the truth once we're there."
"I had to say something to that end. I didn't think she would believe me if I had said we were in the neighbourhood and wanted to stop by for tea and biscuits."
"Neither would I. I know how fussy you are about how you take your tea."
"Then all my secrets truly have been laid bare to you!" They laughed for a few moments. then Jack gestured towards the paper. "So, you approve?"
She handed the page back to him. "I approve. Well done."
"Good! I'll just go address this and--"
"You do, and you'll be needing those woolens to keep you warm tonight. I'm still jealous of your old flame, remember? Gertrude, wasn't that her name?"
He chuckled as he set the letter aside and caressed Honour's cheek. "Elspeth. And as I said, she could never hold a candle to you."
She laid back on the bed and toyed with the collar of his shirt with her fingertips. "Then save your breath for blowing out the candles, and come prove it to me."

Within moments the soft glow of candlelight had been chased from the room, replaced with the quiet, breathless murmurs and laughter of the lovers...

[Welsh Wench]

One month later....

"Honour, are you sure you really want to go?"
Megan sat on the bed as Honour was sorting clothes in a pile. Those that went and those that stayed.
She looked under the bed for the left boot of her favorite pair.
"It's here somewhere.....ah! There it is!"
She blew the dust off it.
"Megan, please don't worry. We will be on ship a month up and a month back. Perhaps two months in Scotland and no longer because Jack has to get the ship back for Josiah to bring molasses to Virginia."
"I know, darling, but the sea is no place for a woman."

Honour hugged her sister.
"I know why you feel that way and I can't say I blame you. Your voyage was a nightmare and you were totally unprepared. You left everything behind. But you are happy now, yes?"
"Yes, Honour, I am happy to be so near you and Jack. But this is a whole new world for me. I was never as wanderlust as you. And I probably never will be. Losing Bancroft Hall was traumatic. But I am so grateful the children were resilient. And Dafydd is really getting into managing the sugar plantation. He and Eli have bonded and Dafydd says he is a quick learner. I won't lie, there are things about Wales I miss but I shall adjust."

Honour nodded. "I, too, left of necessity but I found the love of my life here. And just think, Megan--no more worrying about keeping a house warm in the winter. We can open the doors and breathe the salt air anytime!"
She looked over to Megan. Just a few months before, Megan was wan and coughed alot. But between the good cooking of Mrs Avery and the sea breezes, she was looking healthier every day.

Megan burst out with, "I will miss you so much, Honour! Are you sure you don't want to leave Zara with me?"
Honour folded up a chemise and put it in a trunk.
"No, Megan. Jack won't hear of leaving her behind."
She sighed. "He wants to see his Gran. Most likely to find out the story behind the Stone of Scone and how the MacGregors fit into it. He said he remembered some hushed talk between his grandparents that ended when he walked in the room. But I think he also wants to show her Zara and maybe make amends for the way things ended the last time he saw her."
"You think so?"
Honour laughed. "He probably wants to show her he is a responsible adult with family."
She sighed. "And maybe to redeem himself there. To let her know that life goes on even after we pass. That we leave a bit of ourselves through our children."

Megan helped fold a few clothes that were in the 'take with' pile.
"Are you planning on stopping in Wales?"
Honour's face took on a determined look. "Absolutely not. As much as I loved the countryside of Wales, it holds nothing but bad memories for me."
"I take it you won't try to find Father."
"No, I don't plan on going to hell anytime soon."
"Honour!"
"He means nothing to me, Megan. I said what I had to say to him and when I sailed out of Beaumaris Harbor, I said goodbye to him for good. I have closure."
Megan sighed. "Understood. Are you sure it is alright if we stay here while you are gone? The house may be finished by then."
"Megan, I need you here. Mrs Avery needs you here. If she has no one to dote on or cook for, she feels useless."
"Yes, but it is yours and Jack's house."
"Precisely why I want you here. Someone has to look after Puddin' and Evie and water my plants."
"Morwenna and Dylan will be glad. After what we went through, I don't think you could ever get them to leave those comfortable beds."
"Really, we won't be gone all that long. Jack is sailing the safe route. He knows where all the pirate havens are and is steering clear of them and anything Spanish."

"All the same, it won't be the same without you here." Megan took out a handkerchief and sniffed into it.
Honour gave her a hug.
"Megan, you remember when you left Wales? Alright, so you had no choice to leave but you stood by Dafydd. It was a compromise. Life is full of compromises. Jack gave up what he loved best for me. The sea and a life of adventure. But I could see a part of him was still out there, sailing the deep blue waters. This is the least I can do for him. Go with him on this one adventure. He wants me there, Meggie. And I want to go with him. So don't look so sad. I will send a note when we reach Scotland."
Megan hugged her sister.
"You had better. I will be worried until you get back to Barbados."
Honour laughed. "And in two weeks, we sail to Scotland."
"One thing, Honour..."
"Yes?"
"Bring me back a bolt of Scottish wool?"
"I surely shall."
"And one more thing..."
"Yes?"
"It's been forever since I had Scottish shortbread. Can you get some of that too?"
Honour laughed.
"One problem with that."
"What is that?"
She jumped on her trunk to hold down the lid as she locked it.
"I'll have to hide it from Jack. He and Zara can smell a cookie a mile away!"

[Welsh Wench]

One month later.....

Jack picked up the spyglass and gazed to the shoreline. Even though it was spring, the breeze was cool as it ruffled his hair. Honour wrapped her shawl around her.
He snapped the spyglass shut and sighed.
"Here.Take a look."
She extended it and pointed with her finger as she looked through the glass.
"Is that it there? The white cottage up past that hill?"
"That, love, is called a sidhean. It is a barrow-shaped hill where the fairies are supposed to live."
Honour laughed.
"Don't be too quick to laugh, darling. Gran will have Zara charmed with her stories of the wee folk who live here. And how they can get you pisky-mazed."
"Pisky-mazed? What on earth is that?"

"Many stories are told of lonely travelers who have been led so far astray as to have sunk down exhausted on the bare ground. Others have only released themselves by following the old folks' advice and turned their clothes inside out in order to break the spell. Again and again, the victims of these fairy pranks have described how they heard elfish laughter from their invisible tormentors. The expression 'laughing like a piskey' is still proverbial among the old timers of the highlands."
"And you believe this?"
"Of course not. Gran, on the other hand...."

Honour gently touched Jack's arm.
"Nervous?"
"A bit. It's been...what? A good fifteen years since I saw her. And my cousins."
"Your cousins?"
"Flannery and Rafferty and their sister Fiona."
"You never told me about them."
Jack sighed. "You can't 'tell' anyone about them. You just have to experience them.
He chuckled to himself, "Oh, yes....you just have to experience them!"

"I've never had Scottish food," said Honour. "What is it like?"
"Well, it's either fried or hot."
"That doesn't sound bad."
"No. I mean it's either fried and cold, or hot and mushy. And you haven't lived till you experienced clapshot."
"What on earth is that?"
"Turnips and potatoes boiled and mashed together. Sometime served with haggis. Now haggis is really---"
"Stop right there or I will throw up over the side of this ship. I know what haggis is."
"You don't like haggis?"
"No."
"Neither do I. Gran's is dreadful. But she makes a hell of a clootie pudding."
"Cootie pudding?"
"Clootie. It's like the traditional plum pudding but Scottish-style. It calls for a dram of scotch whiskey but there's 'dram' and then there is Gran's 'dram'."
He sighed. "Gran does like her whiskey even though she pretends to be a pious churchgoer."
Honour wrinkled her nose. "How are the salads?"
"Fried and cold."
She smacked his arm gently. "Stop having me on! I know you. You are nervous and when you are nervous, you start complaining. So stop complaining then!"


"No! I'm half Scottish, which means complaining is my birthright! If you want to hear real complaining, spend some more time with my grandmother. I'll seem like a churchmouse by comparison."
"I'm actually looking forward to a bit of time in Scotland. Will you take me up on the heath and show me around?"
"Better than that." He whispered in her ear and Honour giggled.
"I do hope your Gran will watch Zara so we can grab some time to ourselves. I don't feel right about...you know...in her house."
"Honour, for all her piousness, Agnes MacGregor knows what goes on between a man and a woman. After all, she had children herself. And Lord knows, Tommy had his wild oats sowed. Even after the sowing season. Aggie cracked him in the skull once when a local widow spoke to him in a way that Aggie didn't like."
"He was that bad?"
"No, I guess he was that good. But regardless of his proclivity for the ladies, they did love each other."
 
"Darling, what do we do with the trunks? Zara will need a change of clothes."
"I'll send for them tomorrow. It depends on where we are staying."
"What? You think your grandmother won't welcome you--us?"
Jack looked off towards the cottage.
"It depends on her mood. She was furious. Said I disgraced the family. On the other hand, our wee lassie there just may soften her heart. If anything, she will receive us out of curiosity. Because there is one thing Aggie MacGregor excels at. It is keeping up appearances. On the other hand, she is just as quick to tell a tale concerning a faux pas a neighbor may commit."
"What if we came all the way for nothing?"
"Oh, but we haven't. I am still going to look for the Stone."
"And if we aren't welcome to stay?"
"Then we stay in the town at the local inn. The innkeeper's son and I became fast friends during my summers here. Old Mr. Campbell will find us a room."

Davis walked over to the couple.
"Are you ready to depart, Captain?"
"As ready as I will ever be, Davis. And you have all the instructions?"
"Aye, Captain. Four days' leave for the crew and then we sail to Liverpool. I see shipwright Samuelson for the inspection and replace any wood in the hull. New sails and store the old ones."
"Right. Samuelson drives a hard bargain but in the end he will be fair. The repairs and the revamping shall take about a month. At the end of that time, sail back to this port and leave word with the innkeeper Campbell at the Clachaig Inn and I will check in with him. We are old friends."

Zara came toddling over to her parents.
"Mama!" She extended her arms up to her and Honour lifted her up.
"This, Jack. This may just be our ticket in to a peaceable reunion with your gran."
He wrinkled his nose at Zara and she wrinkled hers back.
"It's a big responsibility for one so small, but you just may be right, Honour."
Honour bent down to retrieve the dropped stuffed bunny.
"Of course I am right. I am a woman. So is Agnes. And who can resist a baby? Now...let's get the suspense over with."
"After you, my ladies. And Zara, do your best to win over your Great-gran?"
She laughed and held her bunny up for Jack to kiss.
"Yes, I do believe Zara hold the cards. Zara, do your best to be nice to the old woman, alright?"
Zara laughed and tucked her rabbit under her arm.
"Let's go then. Off to meet the woman who just may hold the future of Scotland's kings!"

[Welsh Wench]

Honour sat quietly on the skiff as it neared the shore. Zara kept leaning over and putting her hand in the water.
"Mama! Mama! Fishies!" Jack held on to her by her britches and laughed.
"She's got saltwater in her blood, alright. I can't wait to take her fishing on the loch."
"The what?"
"The lake."
"You said 'loch'."
"I did?"
"You did. Scotland has gotten into your head already?"
Jack sighed. "Let's hope Aggie doesn't smack me in the head when she sees me."
"Why would she do that?"
"Well, that was her favorite way of getting your attention."
"Jack, are you nervous?"
"No, why should I be?"
"Because with your free hand you keep running your fingers through your hair and....JACK!"
Zara almost went over the side of the boat as she leaned in to pet what she thought were 'her' fishes.  Jack scooped her up just as she was about to hit the water.
"WAAAAH!!"
"Oh dear. Look at Zara. Her pretty little outfit is soaking wet and she smells of the water."
Jack wiped her face off.
"Hand me that blanket."
"First hand me my child."
Zara buried her head in her mother's lap and cried. Honour wrapped her in a blanket and murmured, "So much for a great first impression."

The skiff landed on the shore, Davis carefully avoiding the rocks.
"You know what to do now, Davis?"
"Aye, Captain. We meet you tomorrow in the Clachaig Inn with the trunks at noon."
"Right. At that point I will know where we are staying."
He glanced over at Honour as she was looking at the hem of her dress.
"Something wrong, sweetheart?"
"Oh no...just that the heel of my boot caught in the back of my dress and I have a big rip in it. Not to mention Zara's wet, fishy smell and I must have sat in something that had some oil on it. Other than that, I am quite presentable for the ball, Prince Charming."
In her current mood, Jack didn't want to mention to Honour that she had a big black streak of something on her cheek. That would come when she calmed down a bit.

As they stepped off the skiff, Zara started to walk up the slope.
Sideways.
"Honour, what is wrong with her? Does she have a pebble in her shoe?"
"I don't know."
"Come here, Zara. Sit on this big rock."
As he lifted her up, he knelt down. Forgetting the fact that the sand was wet and smelled of sea life.
He took her shoe off and the water ran out of it.
"Oh dear." He looked hopeful at Honour.
"At least it wasn't her boots."
"Then I really would have been mad, Jack." Honour stood there trying to assess the damage to her skirt.
"No, nothing in the shoe." He drained the other one out.
He lifted her up and set her on the ground.
"The cottage is right up the hill and to the right. You can see it from the sea but not until we round that bend. Are you ready?"
Honour frowned. "Jack, have you seen your pants?"
Two wet stains on his knees and the back of his britches were covered with sand.
"So much for first impressions, like you said."

They walked a few steps and Zara continued to walk sideways with an almost staggering gait.
"Is something wrong with her, Jack?" Honour grew alarmed.
Suddenly he started laughing.
"Not at all. She has her sea legs and hasn't found her land legs yet. Come on, princess. I'll carry you."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

As they rounded the bend, the sprawling cottage stood before them. It was whitewashed plaster with a wood-shingled roof. Seams in the outer walls were visible where additions had been made over the years. It was no manorhouse, but one could easily tell that a large family had called this place home.

"I expected it to have a thatched roof," said Honour.
"It used to. I guess the roof has been modernised. At least it isn't a blackhouse."
"What is a blackhouse?"
"A disaster of a house if you ask me. But it's probably what you had in mind as a traditional Scottish house. They are typically built with a double wall of stone, packed with earth in between. Then wooden rafters covered with a thatch of turf and straw. You have two choices for flooring: flagstone or dirt."
"I've always wondered-- the drawings I've seen of blackhouses, they never have chimneys. Do they do all their cooking outside? And how do they stay warm?"
"Oh, they have a fire inside. Right in the middle of the living area. A nice stone hearth for cooking and heating."
"But, the smoke!"
"Thatch roofs are very good at keeping rain out, and slightly less good at keeping smoke in. They let the smoke seep out through the roof. No chimney needed."

"How disgusting. I thought your pipes were bad enough."
"You get very good at coughing and clearing your throat, living in one of those. I imagine that's largely why Scottish sounds the way it does. But it gets better."
"I'm afraid to ask."
"Ever notice the lack of barnyard pens in those drawings? It's because the animals are inside the house to keep them warm. People live at one end and the animals live at the other."
"Ewww! And people lived that way?"
"And still do. Don't worry, there's a partition between them. The Scots aren't complete savages. You can see where they get their sunny disposition, though. Having to share your bed with a chicken whether you want to or not would make anyone surly."

"Not to spoil your air of sophistication, but have you ever stayed in a blackhouse?"
"Heavens, no. I am certain some of my ancestors did, though. And with my cousins Rafferty and Flannery, I'd have a hard time deciding which side of the partition they would get. Ah! And here we are."
"Do you think this will be a surprise to her?"
"No. I sent that letter a few weeks before we left so she would have gotten it by now."

Jack opened the gate. "I suppose I should tell you that you have a streak of soot on your face."
"Jack! Why didn't you tell me before?"
"You got me talking about sooty, smoky people barns and it slipped my mind."
As Honour frantically rubbed her face, Jack knocked on the door.

He held his breath as he waited for his estranged grandmother to open the door. Aggie MacGregor could be a hard woman, but hopefully the letter would soften her up a bit. He shifted Zara in his arm, making sure the blanket was keeping her warm enough.
"Stinky!" she complained, her nose wrinkling.
"We'll  clean you up in a bit. But right now..."
He stopped when he heard the bolt of the door slide open. The rough-hewn door swung open, and there she stood.
Aggie MacGregor.

She had an aged, wizened face, one that had seen many years of hard work and mercurial Scottish weather. A well-used apron hung around her neck, and she held a large copper ladle in her hand. Jack's eyes went warily to the utensil, as nearly any kitchen item could become a disciplinary tool in Aggie's hands.
She scrutinised the family standing on her doorstep momentarily before simply saying, "Aye?"

It took Jack a moment to find his voice. Though he had imagined - or more accurately, dreaded - this moment over and over in his head, reality chased away the words he had rehearsed like so many little birds.
"Um, hello! No doubt you've been expecting---"
"I don't who sent ye up here, but they're havin' ye on. The priest is down at the church, where ye'd expect him to be.
"The priest? Why would we---"
"Lookin' at the state of ye, it's an easy thing to guess why you're here. My spare money went in the poor box. So go and see the priest. He'll get ye food and whatnot. Now off ye go, and get that wee bairn some dry clothes before she catches her death."
Before Jack could say another word, the door slammed shut.

He turned to Honour, who was looking at him with complete surprise at what had just taken place.
"She didn't even... I mean, I couldn't get a word in," stammered Jack. "Do you think I should knock again?"
"Yes," replied Honour. "And talk faster, maybe?"
Jack nodded, and turned to knock again. But as his knuckles got close to the door, it slowly swung open.
Aggie peered around the door, then crept toward Jack. He couldn't tell if she was angry or not as she squinted her eyes and studied his face.
"And just what in the name of God's green hills are YOU doin' here, Jack Wolfe?!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack's eyes went wide. "You remember me! That's good! Remembering is good. But you're surprised. That's not so good. You never got my letter?"
"And what letter would that be?"
"I sent a letter six weeks ago. It should have arrived well ahead of us."
"I've not seen part nor parcel off a packet ship in at least six months. They're in port once a fortnight. The last letter I got was from Thomas. I'd remember one from you. The shock would make certain of that."
"Ah, well. They must have run into trouble in the Channel. French raiders, perhaps."
Aggie sighed heavily. "Well, no matter that. You're here, and I can't rightly turn my own kin out into the street, seeing you've come... how far?"
"Barbados."
"Barbados," she echoed. "It would be easier had ye said London Towne."
"Easier to invite us in?"
"Easier to think better of it."
"But you know I'm telling the truth, otherwise my teeth wouldn't be chattering in what passes for temperate here."
"You're the get of my Edythe, so ye have strong enough teeth. Now, shall ye give me proper introductions before I open my home to ye?"
"Yes! Of course! Where are my manners?"
"Still on board your ship, I'd imagine," said Aggie. "Shall we wait whilst ye go fetch them?"
Honour stifled a laugh.
"Oh, I like her. Go on, introduce us!"

"Agnes MacGregor, this is my wife, Honour Wolfe."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. MacGregor."
Honour stepped forward, not realising that her efforts to rub the soot off her face had resulted in a long grey patch running down her cheek.
Aggie turned to Jack. "And did ye make a good and honest woman of her? Or was ye looking to put a cradle on a corner of your ship first?"
Jack could feel his face getting a bit red. His grandmother was the only one who could dress him down and make him feel like a scolded schoolboy even at his age.
"No, Gran, we got married first."
Aggie put her hands on her hips and looked heavenward. "Well, thank the Lord that this bairn is born on the right side of the blanket!"

She turned her attention to Honour and immediately tried to wipe the dirt off Honour's face with the corner of her apron.
"Aye, and a pleasure it is to meet you, Honour. Call me Aggie, everyone else does. Ye sound Welsh, but would ye be kin to our William Wallace, perchance? What with the war blaze?"
Startled, Honour said, "No, I'm full-blooded Welsh." A look of realisation came on her face. "Jack, why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugged, "I was preoccupied?"
"Talking, most likely. He would walk off a cliff before he'd cut a sentence short," said Aggie. "Welsh, eh? You'll find as much love for England here as ye do at home. Maybe less. Aren't you are a lovely thing? And speaking of lovely things..."

Zara was glued to her father's shoulder, reluctant to look at the older woman.
"Are these for me?" asked Aggie, her gruff voice suddenly soft and soothing. She brushed her finger against Zara's hand that held the wilted flowers.
"It's all right, Zara. This is your great-grandmum. Give her a peek, eh?"
Zara reluctantly turned her head, and saw Aggie smiling at her.
Aggie lifted one of the wilted blossoms and sniffed. "Smells like the coming summertime. Thank ye, lassie."
Zara looked up and handed Aggie a flower. She then buried her face in Jack's chest and yawned.
Aggie's eyes almost looked like they were wanting to fill with tears. She touched Zara's curls and said softly, "So like Edyth's hair, it is. Soft and curled and the colour of chestnuts. She was indeed the star of the county...."
Then she brusquely said, "Well...what are ye all standing out here for, in the dank and drear? Come on in! Warm yourselves by the hearth. And worry not, I've got dry clothes for the sweet bairn. In, in!"

The three of them followed the older woman into the cottage. Honour marveled at the cleanliness of it and how it felt like a real home.
Aggie opened a chest drawer and drew out a little dress of flannel.
"Here. For the wee lassie. I make them for the indigent at church. Not that ye are indigent. But I won't be having my kin catching their death of a cold."
Honour accepted the dress and then took Zara out of Jack's arms. She made a small fussy noise.
"Mrs. MacGregor, do you have a bed that I can lie her on? We found that she had a hard time sleeping in unfamiliar surroundings until she gets her bearings and I think you will find a much different disposition if she is allowed to get her nap."
Jack started with, "Since when----" but Honour shot him a look that meant 'hush'.
Aggie nodded. "Here. Upstairs. It will be quiet and no one can disturb her."
"Thank you. I will lie down with her till she gets to sleep."
As she passed Jack, she whispered, "Go. Talk to her."

He realized that Honour was giving him the opportunity to talk freely to his grandmother and for that he gave her a quick look of gratitude.
Aggie climbed the stairs with Honour and Zara behind. Zara was already half asleep by the time they reached the top. She quickly drew off Zara's soggy clothes and deftly drew the dress over her head.
Aggie drew the coverlet down. "Don't you be letting her get chilled. Scottish summers are not what they appear to be. There is no such thing as bad Scottish weather, only the wrong clothes."
Honour laid Zara down and covered her up.
"Thank you, Mrs MacGregor. I'll stay a bit up here to make sure she falls asleep."

Aggie went downstairs to find Jack warming himself by the fire.
"Aye, just like ye did when ye were younger, Jackie. But I see the man before me where the boy used to be."
Jack had taken off his shoes and put his feet up near the grate.
Aggie went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Scotch whiskey.
"And now ye are old enough to be drinkin' the spirits, not like the two of you drinkin' with your grandda."
She poured a healthy dose of the amber liquid and handed it to him along with one for herself.
She folded her arms across her chest and said, "One question."
"Yes, Gran?"
"How in the name of sweet Jesus did ye get a lass like that to marry the likes of you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she is right bonny and smarts to boot. Did she owe ye money or something like that?"
"Is it so preposterous to think that maybe, just maybe, we're in love?"
"Preposterous? No." Aggie took a sip of whiskey. "Baffling, yes."
"Gran, there's no mystery. We met, got married, fell in love..."
"I think ye got those last two out of order, aye?"
"It's been a long journey. I must be more tired than I thought."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Well, that's a good bit of guff," said Aggie with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Or should I say, 'a clever bit of invention' since you're the life and breath of an Englishman?"
"Oh, we're back to that are we? I'm too English for you? You're gonna drag that tired old song out for a few more choruses?"
"You tell me. To hear ye talk, ye sound more like a Londoner than someone whose soul belongs to the Highlands. You're a MacGregor, but you don't act like one."
"Gran, I'm a Wolfe. The MacGregor side of things..."
"Am mac mar an t-athair. Is that it? Your father's blood is more important to ye than your mum's?"
"Don't you dare. Don't you EVER dare say I loved my mum less than I should have. That accusation lies squarely with you."
"Ye don't know what you're saying."
"The hell I don't. You harboured such anger against my mother, your own daughter, because she married an Englishman without your consent."
"I honoured their marriage vows..."
"I presume it was well after you levelled a gun at my father's head when they came to give you the news of their wedding?"
"I... I was caught off guard. He could have been a highwayman for all I knew."
Jack shook his head. "To use your favourite word, bollocks. You knew who he was and what they had done against your wishes, and you were angry. You didn't respect their choice, not one bit."
"People make wrong choices all the time!" Aggie retorted. "It's a damn shame older ones aren't on hand to steer them the right way more often. God knows you could have used some advice instead of ending up a ruddy pirate."

The way she spat the word "pirate" was like a kick in the gut to Jack. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"You weren't there," he managed to say calmly. "You couldn't possibly know what it was like." He paused and took a deep breath. "I watched nine of my crewmates bleed out on the deck, their throats cut because they would not sign on with the pirate who had captured us. Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones. But you still have to choose. And I made choices that kept me alive. Would you rather I had died? Would that have been more palatable to you? Your sage advice advice would have been mighty handy, but I don't recall you being around when I needed it most. So don't you dare judge the choices I've had to make."
"Well, you made the judging easy, didn't you? You went off and became a pirate. An 'enemy of the world', isn't that what you lot call yourselves?"
"Perhaps your hearing is failing. I said I gave that life up when I was pardoned."
"Aye, I heard what you said. Those are words. They mean nothing if they don't reveal what's in your heart. Is pirating still in your heart? You continue to sail the seas. How much thieving yet stains you?"
"That does it!" he growled. "I knew this was a mistake. If you can't damn me for one thing, you'll find three others that will suit your purposes just as well."
"That's a load of bollocks, and you know it!" said Aggie.

"All this noise and bother!" Honour came quickly down the stair and confronted the quarrelling pair. "I have an exhausted child upstairs trying to get some sleep, but how can she possibly with you two going at it like a couple of wild dogs? Jack, I understand now your misgivings about coming here. Mrs. MacGregor, perhaps this was a terrible idea after all. Our meeting was pleasurable enough, but I think Jack and I should collect our child and find lodging elsewhere. We will take our leave, and we shan't bother you ever again."

Aggie's mouth fell open. "But... what? No, no, child! 'Twas naught but a family tiff. An airing of differences, but nothing more. Jack, you're my grandson! I know I lose my temper, it's a MacGregor trait after all. I love you, otherwise I would never raise my voice. And you're right. I have no business judging anyone. That's the good Lord's job, after all." She turned to Honour. "I'm sorry for keeping the wee bairn from slumber. This is a Scottish household after all. What would it be without the occasional row? Just... please, don't take the child away on my account. She does remind me so much of my own Edythe. I want you all to stay under my roof, as family. I'm sorry for making such a fuss."

Honour looked to Jack and raised her eyebrows. He nodded and quietly said, "Yeah, it's fine."
"All right then, Mrs. MacGregor," Honour began.
"Please, call me Aggie. Everyone else does, save the travelling merchants. Then they'd best call me Mrs. MacGregor if they want to see one coin from my purse."
"Thank you... Aggie. I'm glad we were able to sort this out. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to check on Zara."
"Why certainly, dear. I hope she sleeps."
As Honour started up the stairs, Jack said, "Do you mind if I check on her as well?"
"Of course not."

Jack followed her to the room where Zara lay sleeping peacefully.
"She never woke up, did she?" whispered Jack.
"Of course she didn't. But I couldn't take your grandmother haranguing you like that one more moment."
"Thank you. You stopped me from dragging us all out of here."
"I know. And I know you need her to find the Stone."
"I suppose I do. And did you notice she never apologised for excoriating me for my piratical past?"
"Yes. Did you expect her to?"
He chuckled. "No. Her pride would have shattered like a thousand mirrors if she did."
Honour tucked the covers up around Zara's chin, then stood and walked to her husband.
"Did Aggie ever tell us where our room is?"
"No, she didn't. What did you have in mind?"
"Sleep, my captain. Zara's not the only one who has had a busy day!"
"And after sleep?"
"Negotiations. You know I like a hard bargain."
"God, how I love you," grinned Jack.

[Welsh Wench]

Jack came quietly down the stair to find Aggie staring out the window.
"Gran?"
Aggie hastily wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron before turning to Jack.
"Aye?"
"Gran, if it is a burden for us to be here, we can always take lodging down at the inn. Really, I would understand since the letter did not reach you."
She raised her eyes to him and Jack could see where her eyes had filled with tears.
"Nay, Jack, I canna have you staying with strangers. What would the neighbors think? I have plenty of room here. You can have the room that faces the east meadow. The wee one can have the alcove. I do believe the MacGregor trundle bed is still there. It....it was your mother's. What did you say the wee lass's name is?
"Zara. Zara Jane."
"Lovely name but a bit odd, Jack. Did you pick it out or did your wife?"

Jack hesitated. No need for Agnes MacGregor to know the details of the lapse of their marriage vows for eighteen months.
"Honour did. She's not a traditional woman."
Aggie nodded. "I expected nothing less from you, Jack Wolfe. And I can see the affection betwixt the two of you. Like it was for me and my Tommy."
"And Da and Mother."
Agnes changed the subject.
"You'll be wanting a bit to eat, then."
Jack stretched and said, "Gran, if it is all the same to you, I think Honour and I will just turn in, if you don't mind."
Agnes nodded. "I'll be fixing you a proper Scottish breakfast in the morning."
She reached out and touched Jack's arm.
"It's good to see ye, lad. Even if we got off to a rocky start."
Jack gave her a smile and touched her cheek.
"Grand to see ye too, Agnes MacGregor."

As Jack was climbing the stairs, Agnes called out.
"Jackie?"
"Aye, Gran?"
"What I said about your Scottish brogue being gone?"
"Aye?"
"It's back, laddie."