Free Doctor Who: The Highlanders by Gerry Davis Page B

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. ‘A friend of the McLarens is a friend of mine.’
    There was a murmur of agreement from the Highlanders who now began to sink back to their former resting-places.
    Ben nodded, the sweat still standing out on his brow. It had been a tight moment for him. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he said.
    He took Willy’s hand and shook it. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
    ‘How come you’re here?’ asked Willy.
    ‘He’s a deserter from the English Fleet,’ Jamie replied.
     
    ‘Aye, I’m a man of the sea myself, the master of this very vessel.’
    ‘Hey,’ said Ben, ‘if you’re the skipper here, what’s that Trask geezer doing on the bridge?’
    ‘That shark,’ said Willy, ‘was my mate. I was running arms for the Prince past the blockade, you see. Trask betrayed me and the Navy boarded the Annabelle . Now he runs it for King George.’
    ‘Oh yeah?’ Ben sounded sceptical, and Willy’s temper flared up at his tone.
    ‘You doubt my word?’ said Willy.
    ‘No,’ said Ben hastily, ‘no, skipper, not that. I just doubt that bit about him working for King George.’
    ‘What do you mean, man?’
    ‘We’re not exactly being held like prisoners of war, are we? Hasn’t it occurred to you that Trask may be using this ship without the knowledge of his King and Sovereign in some big fiddle on his own account?’
    ‘Fiddle?’ Willy was puzzled.
    ‘Look,’ said Ben, ‘he’ll sell us like the stinking fish he thinks we are. Slave labour, that’s what we’re gonna be. I think he plans to sell us over in the plantations.’ There was a small chorus of dismay from the Highlanders at this.
    ‘We’ll see,’ said Ben. ‘It’s a long way across the Atlantic.’
    Polly was waiting anxiously for Kirsty to return. She was in a large barn on the outskirts of Inverness. There was a noise outside the barn door and Polly ran to it and put her eye to a crack. Outside, a man leading a small donkey laden down with pots and pans – obviously a Highland tinker –
    made his way along the narrow cobbled streets. Polly went back to the straw and picked up Kirsty’s dirk which she had left on her plaid. Polly practised stabbing with it, but the thought of having to use a weapon was far too distasteful to her and she dropped it again.
    There was a sound behind her and she turned just as Kirsty entered. ‘Oh,’ cried Polly, ‘you did give me a fright.’
     
    She ran forward. Kirsty was loaded down with clothes and a small sack. ‘Phew,’ she said, ‘I’m no used to fetching and carrying. We had our servants at hame.’
    ‘That’s quite obvious,’ remarked Polly drily. ‘Have you got everything?’
    Kirsty nodded. ‘Aye, clothes for ye.’ She indicated the clothes. ‘Trays.’ She dropped the wooden trays from the sack. ‘And,’ a little reluctantly, ‘these oranges. Though why ye have to spend that money on oranges... they’re no cheap you know, not up here.’
    ‘You’ll see,’ said Polly. She held up the clothes. ‘Oh, that’s the gear. You know,’ she said, forgetting whom she was talking to, ‘last time I went back to the past I had to wear boys’ clothes all the time.’
    Kirsty stared at her blankly. ‘Sometimes I canna