MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page A

weighed anchor. We are short one man in the starboard watch. Perhaps . . .”
    “You would replace Peters with the stowaway?” Captain Powell asked.
    “Aye, sir, if you be willing,” Norton said.
    “Have you ever been to sea, MacCallister? Could you do the work of an AB?”
    “I’ve been to sea, Captain, and fare well without becoming sick. I have never worked as a sailor, but I learn quickly.”
    “From your dress, you have the appearance of a man of means,” Captain Powell said. “Are you a wealthy man, MacCallister?”
    “I have land and livestock,” MacCallister replied, but even as he was saying the words, he realized that he would never see either again.
    “Would you feel the work of an able-bodied seaman beneath a man of your station?” Captain Powell asked.
    “Captain, as you have pointed out, and as I readily admit, I am a stowaway on your ship. My alternative to working, it would appear, would be to spend the entire voyage in the brig. I would consider honest labor to be far superior to that condition.”
    Captain Powell laughed out loud.
    “Very well, MacCallister, you may work for your passage. Mr. Norton, assign him to the starboard watch. Did Peters leave his chest?”
    “Aye, sir, he did.”
    “MacCallister, you are a bit taller than Peters, and a bit broader in the shoulders I would say. But I think you could wear his clothes. I advise you to do so, for your current attire is ill suited for the task at hand.”
    “Thank you, Captain,” Duff replied.
    “Mr. Norton, take MacCallister below, get him properly dressed, then muster the crew.”
    “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
    It was dim belowdecks, though not entirely dark as the sun filtered down through the hatch above, falling in little individual squares of light on the floor of the deck under the fo’castle. Duff saw several men, bare from the waist up, sitting on chests or coils of rope. They looked around in curiosity as Duff and the bosun stepped into their midst.
    “Men, this is MacCallister. He’ll be takin’ Peters’s place,” Norton said.
    “He don’t look like no sailor man to me,” one of the men said. “He looks more like what you would call a gentleman.”
    “Whatever he may look like, he is hired on as a sailor, and a sailor he will be,” Norton said. He looked toward Duff. “Get changed into working clothes.”
    “Aye, sir. And thank you, Mr. Norton, for providing a way for me to avoid the brig,” Duff said.
    “Just see to it that you do your work, for I’ll not be making excuses for you to the captain,” Norton said as he started back up the ladder.
    After Norton left, none of the others spoke to him. The sailors were not purposely ignoring Duff, but neither were they inviting him into their circle. Duff knew from his few voyages, the most recent being to Egypt with his regiment, that a ship’s crew was a close-knit group. He wasn’t going to fit in right away; indeed, perhaps not for the entire voyage. But, as he told the captain, this was better than being in the brig, and it was infinitely better than hanging, which fate awaited him back in Scotland.
    As Duff went through Peters’s sea bag, pulling out clothes, he was very aware of their pungent odor. Steeling himself to it, he pulled on a pair of pants and a blue-and-white striped shirt. Once dressed, he looked around the fo’castle, which would furnish his quarters for the voyage. It was filled with coils of rigging, spare sails, and items of machinery, many of which were foreign to him. He saw a hammock hanging from one hook, just above Peters’s kit. Looking to his left, he saw another hook and deduced that his sleeping would be accommodated by stretching the hammock from one hook to the other. He was about to stretch out to see how it worked when the hatch was opened and Norton shouted out to the men below.
    “All hands on deck! All hands on deck!”
    At Norton’s call, the sailors made haste to climb the ladder and spill out onto the deck. Duff went