The Book of Secrets by Fiona Kidman

drowned out at times by the weeping of those who were left on the shore. Parents who were about to leave were wrestling with their own parents as they tried to drag children from their arms, believing that whole families were about to perish and some must be saved.
    A woman standing next to Isabella as they were being jostled in the crowd while they waited for a rowboat to take them to the ship turned and cried, ‘Why have we been driven out? Why is there no place for us here, in our own country?’
    As the ship pulled away, McLeod, standing on the deck, broke into the old lament of McCrimmon, and in a moment the voices of everyone on board had joined with him and were soaring back across the water to the watchers on the shore — cha tille cha tille cha tille me tuilleach , return return return we never, in peace nor war return we never, with silver or gold return we never.
    The Atlantic Ocean was all around them now as the sight of land slipped behind them in the night. Packed side by side with the other passengers, Isabella found herself fortunate to have a bunk, although where she lay the side of the ship pressed against her, splintered and patched, one patch on top of another.
    By morning there was already filth accumulating underfoot. The deck tilted this way and that, and sometimes it was to the advantage of the passengers as human excrement slid overboard. At other times, those caught on the wrong side of the boat found their ankles awash. Slowly, an order of sorts was established and passengers who were not so seasick that they were unable to help began a routine that was designed to keep their health and spirits intact.
    For the first two weeks at sea the weather held and the ship appeared to make progress. Duncan and Isabella were among those who walked on the deck early each morning, glad to make their escape from the thick stench below, where they were forced to spend their nights. Glancing at Duncan, Isabella often surprised a look of happiness on his face. She saw too McLeod, bent in a curious fashion over charts. He appeared to be studying the position of the ship and the winds and the ocean currents, as if he were the captain.
    When they had been sixteen days at sea, they woke to find that the air outside had become strange and heavy. Emerging onto the deck they saw that the sea was dull and molten in its appearance, almost oily in its depths. The captain was up and down, checking charts, edgy and not speaking to anyone.
    Duncan looked anxiously at the sky. ‘I have told them I will help muck out in the hold this morning,’ he said to Isabella. ‘I think you should go below too.’
    ‘Soon, if the wind rises,’ she promised.
    One by one, people were withdrawing into the ship, huddled in on themselves, as if they expected to be plucked off the deck by a wave at any moment. Alone on the deck, Isabella felt a growing exultation, as if she had the ship to herself. The first winds to touch it were little puffs, sharp, but not hard enough to worry about, she was sure, although the ship was developing an unpleasant short lurch. She was fairly certain that below the stench of sickness would be increasing by the moment, and she determined to stay on deck for as long as she could.
    She heard a sharp voice beside her and saw the captain. He was ashort, thickset man who had taken little notice of her on the voyage, as indeed he had not paid much attention to any of the women and children. He was an Englishman who so far had shown himself so uncouth that no one greatly minded his lack of interest.
    ‘You, get down below,’ he said now, indicating with his thumb towards Isabella. ‘We’re battenin’ down hatches.’
    ‘You think it will be a real blow, then?’ she called across the rising wind.
    His mouth was set in a hard line. He did not answer her but shouted orders to the sailors to shorten the sails.
    The sun, what was left of it, suddenly vanished. It was almost as dark as night over the sea, only an