The Desperate Journey by Kathleen Fidler Read Free Book Online Page A

Highlands,” Donald commented. “But where are you going with your family, James?”
    “To find a ship that will take us to Glasgow. I hear there is plenty of work to be had there.”
    Donald shook his head a little sadly. “True, true! But it is work under a roof from dawn till night, mostly wi’ the clatter o’ machinery round ye. How will ye like that after the quiet peace o’ the hills, man?”
    “If there are no crofts for us, then we must do something to earn our bread,” James said bitterly.
    Just then the cattle came ambling round the bend, cropping the grass of the roadside as they came along.
    “We’ll have to leave you now, James.” Donald Rae shook hands solemnly all round, adding with a twinkle at Kate, “Ye’re a bonnie fetcher, mistress, I’d rather have ye on my side than against me.”
    They parted company with many backward glances and waving of the hands.
    That night the Murrays slept in the barn of the inn at Altnacealgach. The next day when they took their leave of the landlord he asked, “Ullapool, is it?”
    “Aye, we are looking for a ship to Glasgow.”
    The landlord shook his head doubtfully. “If ye find no ship,” he said, “there is an honest fisherman, Patrick Cameron, who might be able to help ye. Look for him.”
    The day’s journey was uneventful. They saw no more gipsies as they followed the drove road. It led them by a river into which rushing streams poured down from the hills on either side. Thepath began to mount higher and higher to the gap between the mountains of Cul Mor and Cnoc an Sassunnach. The road grew rough and stony and James Murray had to stop now and again to rest the horse. All around them was the sound of many waters. At last they reached the top of the pass. Davie stood, his hand shading his eyes, peering at the dozen or more lochans that glinted in the sun and the great peaks that swept upward to the sky in the west, and his heart lifted with them.
    “Will there be mountains in Glasgow, Father?” he asked.
    “I do not think so, Davie. Just streets and houses.”
    Davie looked puzzled. He could not imagine a land without mountains.
    The road began to drop down now towards Strath Canaird to the coast, then turned along the shores of Loch Broom towards Ullapool. They crossed a little river and immediately came on the town, nestling along the shores of its bay and overhung by the long precipitous face of rock behind it. The smoke went up from over two hundred chimneys. New-looking cottages were grouped round a small harbour, with other small streets behind.
    “It is even bigger than Dornoch!” Davie exclaimed.
    “Is Glasgow as big as this?” Kirsty asked.
    “Bigger, my lassie!”
    “Oh!” Kirsty’s eyes grew big.
    “These look good houses,” Kate remarked wistfully, thinking of the destroyed home they had left behind them.
    “Aye, they have been built by the British Fishery Society for the fishermen. There’s many a barrel of salt herring sent from Ullapool to Glasgow. Now we must ask if there’s a ship to take us to Glasgow. Hold the horse, Davie, while I go talk with those fishermen at the quayside.”
    The men paused in their work of cleaning the nets when James hailed them.
    “For Glasgow?” one asked. “That’s a thing can only be answeredwhen a ship arrives here, man. In the herring season there are likely to be boats, but no’ at this time o’ year.”
    Troubled, James asked, “Is there no regular sailing of a ship from Ullapool to Glasgow?”
    The man shook his head. “Whiles a ship will come up the coast bringing sugar and tobacco and the goods they make in Glasgow, but naebody kens when that will be. It might be tomorrow, or a week or a month.”
    James felt desperate. Had he come all the way across Scotland only to fritter away his small store of money while they waited for a Glasgow-bound ship? Then he remembered what the innkeeper had told him. “Is there one among ye named Patrick Cameron?” he asked.
    “Why, yes?