Steve McAllister's Blog

Here is the completed third section of Mairi’s Battle.  It’s still a little rough and needs some editing, but the direction of the story is there.  I’ll likely do one pass at editing (with the help of a friend, Julie) and then set it aside.  I have other ideas I’ve been repressing waiting for this to get over.  If you’d like to see the story in it’s entirety, leave a comment and we’ll work out the details.

24 September 1882 

It had been raining for over two weeks.  Not quite constantly, but very nearly.  What was normally a thin line of silver tumbling down the brae was now a ragged and thick ribbon of white torrent.  A temporary river had formed from water spilling off the road.  It gathered strength on its way to the sea loch so that by the time it reached Mairi’s cottage it was too wide to leap across as it passed by the front door.  The cottage floor stones were constantly damp and the only way to adequately dry her clothes and the clothes of Niall and Ailean was to hang them near to the peat fire.  Mairi was certain the acrid aroma was now permanently embedded in their clothes.

Mairi had no time to wish and wait for better weather.  She still had the bairns to look after . . . to feed and keep healthy.  The coo needed to let out to graze, brought back to milk and the cream churned into butter.  The corn from the storage barrel needed to be ground and the early crops tended, then harvested and taken to the village to be sold so she could pay her rent.  The Laird’s factor would not care if it were raining or sunny when it came time to collect rent.  Besides, it rained enough that the dampness was more common than dryness.  For Mairi and all the crofters, the rain wasn’t an inconvenience or a hindrance.  It was, instead, a fact of life.  As inhaling is as much a part of breathing as exhaling, so rain was as much a part of island living as was sunny weather.

Ever since Peter and the others had been taken away, the crofters had pulled together to ensure those families left without husbands were not left to their own devices.  Mairi was no exception.  When Niall had taken ill with fever and wasn’t able to help with daily chores, nearby crofters showed up to do the work while Mairi nursed Niall back to health. 

A rather constant presence for a period was young Allen MacRae.  He first arrived when she was plowing a field.  Mairi noticed him when she had bent over at the waist to move a stone from the path of her plow.  As she struggled to move the stone while keeping the borrowed horse from walking off, she saw his feet to her side.  Mairi twisted her head slightly to look over her shoulder to see Allen staring at her, though not at her face.  Her initial though was to be perturbed at this wonton display of maleness, but quickly realized that there could be profit to be made from the situation.  She slowly stood from being bent at the waist and slightly turned so Allen could see her profile.  Still no letting on that she knew Allen was there, Mairi threw back her head and her arms as though stretching out a stiffness.  The action thrusted her chest forward increasing the curvature of her profile, and when she acted surprised that Allen was there and returned to a straight posture, she caught him now looking at the most obvious curves of her profile.

“Allen, is there something wrong, Lad?  Is there something ye need?”

Allen stammered as though suddenly woken from a daydream.  “Em . . . em, nay Miss.  Nothing.  I’ve . . . em . . . come to see if I can help ye.”

“Help me?  Well, that’s very Christian of ye, Lad.”  Pointing to the stone she’d been rolling, Mairi said, “If ye could put yer back into movin this stone . . .”  Mairi then smiled at Allen.  Soon the stone was entirely out of the field and Allen was behind the plow guiding the blade while Mairi guided the draft horse.

Allen would come nearly every day for the next month.  Then one day while she was handing him some sod to repair a leak in the cottage roof, he took her hand and wouldn’t let go until she forcefully withdrew from his grasp. 

“Allen, what are ye doin?”

Allen stared at Mairi with a look of surprise.

“Lad, if yer thinkin what it appears yer thinkin, I fear yer mistaken.  Did ye think I might be a wee bit lonely with me husband in jail?  Is that what yer thinkin?  Did ye think that because I’d no been to confession recently that I’m now full of sin?  Well, . . . if I made ye believe that there is any more here than a fail widow in need of a wee bit of help, then aye, I have sinned indeed, though tellin the priest and saying Hail Marys won’t change that.  If God is lookin at me now, then let this be my confession.  If he’s not, then I’m no certain why I’m confessing.  Do ye understand me, Lad?”

Allen did not reply, but was now looking away as though he was uncomfortable with the entire situation.

Mairi continued.  “And aye, I am lonely.  I’m lonely for me husband, not for a lad who awakes hard in the morn and thinks himself a man.  Peter is me husband.  The man I swore to God that I would stay with until I die.  And I intend to keep that promise.  Not for ye, Lad, yer a fine boy, Allen, but yer no Peter.  And it’s Peter I’m wantin.  So I think it’s time for ye to go home.”

After that Allen did not return unless it was with his father.

On this cool, rainy morning, Mairi watched as Niall and Ailean ate their porridge before all three went to harvest potatoes.  As she watched, someone rapped on the cottage door.  The the visitor said loudly, “Mairi, it’s Mackinnon.  Let me in, Lass.”

“Aye, come in, come in, Angus,” she said as she opened the door.

Angus ducked stepping through the door and stamped his feet causing a small rain shower where he stood.  He then removed his cap and slapped it against his woolen pants.  With his free hand, he ran his fingers through his hair matting its dampness to his scalp.

“It will be hard pushing a barrow full in this soft soil,” said Mackinnon.

“Aye, but the lads and I can manage.”

“Perhaps ye can.  Perhaps not.  That why the good Lord sent me to ye with me nag and cart.”  Angus opened the door and gestured toward a glistening, steaming old horse that gave all the appearance of being tired of life.  Behind it, fastened to a harness around the horse’s body, was a two-wheeled cart, black from being wet.

Mairi smiled and nodded to Angus.  “I dinna know if it was the Lord that sent ye, but ye and yer nag are a welcome sight on this day.  Can I get ye some porridge or tea?”

“Nay, nay.  Well . . . do ye have any uisghe?  I could put a wee bit in me tea to keep the chill away.”

“Och no,” said Mairi looking down.  “Not in this home, I dare say.”

Angus smiled and said, “Ah then, just a tea.”

Mairi wrapped her hands around her teapot and said, “Och, this has gone cold.  Let me make another, Angus.  It will take not long.”

“That’s fine, Mairi.”

Mairi took a cloth hanging near the peat fire, wrapped her hand with it, and then lifted the water kettle off the andiron  hook and refilled the teapot.  She added a small scoop of tea leaves, returned the lid and wrapped the pot with the cloth that she’d wrapped around her hand.

“There.  Should only be a moment, now,” she said to Angus.

Angus was silent for a moment, then said, “Ye’ve no been to mass lately, Lass.  Dinna think it goes unnoticed.  No by the priest.  No by God.”

Mairi looked to the floor and pursed her lips without replying.

“Mairi, will ye be at Mass this Sabbath?”

In a low tone, Mairi’s replied, “Is that why ye’ve come, Angus?  Tae preach at me aboot . . .”  Mairi’s voice became more determined and louder.  “. . . aboot if I’m a sinner?  Tae tell me my responsibilities to God?”

“No, Mairi.  I dinna . . .”

“De ye understand how hard it is to keep this croft with no husband?  Do ye know how hard I have to work to put food out for me bairns, to make the shillings I need for the factor?”  Mairi paused and picked up the cloth-covered teapot and began swirling the contents.  “I was busy enough when Peter was here.  Now, I do my work and his.  Lately I’ve no had time for the kirk.  That’s all there is to it.”

With that, Mairi poured some tea through a strainer and into a mug.  She brought the mug and a small pitcher of cream to Angus at the table and set it down saying rather tersely, “I’d have sugar for yer tea, but it been gone for several weeks.”

“Now Mairi, sit Lass.”

Mairi shook her head. 

“Very well,” continued Angus.  “We all know ye’ve suffered without Peter.  This is a hard life for a family.  It’s no life for a wife without a husband.  Still God must be the most important thing in our lives.  It’s through him that we have all that we have and we owe him.  The priest says that God expects what is due him . . .”

“The priest expects what is due him!”  Mairi interrupted with a raised voice.  “If keeping my family together until Peter comes home is no enough, if feeding my bairns so they’re strong enough to kneel each night and say their prayers is no enough, if the sweat of my labor is no worth more than the few coppers I leave in the offering, then this God is no the God I thought he was.”

“Wheesht, woman!  Tis blasphemy . . .”

“Ah, Angus.  If God would rather the potatoes rot in the ground because I dinna have enough time to get them out, or the peats not dry enough for the winter’s cold, or the corn mold on the stalk, then I’ll go to mass on the Sabbath and take the communion and speak the Latin and leave the coppers for the priest until they’re gone.  And then, when Niall and Ailean grow weak from lack of food or get the consumption and the factor sends me away because I canna pay the rent, I’ll come to ye and ask if this is the due God expected.”

“I’ll pray for ye, Mairi.”

“I am truly sorry, Angus.  I dinna mean to set upon you like that.  Here ye brought yer cart and nag tae help with the potatoes, and I welcome ye like that.  Forgive me.”

“Och, Lass.  It’s no for me to forgive.  Yer forgiveness will come at confession, but I am not put upon.  I thank ye for the tea, and now I believe there are potatoes to harvest.  Come Lads, put on yer coats.  We have work to do.  Mairi, do ye have baskets or buckets?”

Mairi replied, “Baskets, and thank ye again, Angus.”

Mairi and Angus walked on either side of the nag while Ailean and Niall rode on the wagon with the caschrom[1] and spade.  When they arrived at the field, Angus unhitched the wagon from the nag and tied the horse to a wagon wheel.  He took the tools from the cart and handed the spade to Niall.

“Here, Lad.  Ye do that row with yer mither and Ailean and me will turn the next one.  Ailean, get the buckets for ye and ye mither and come with me, Lad.”

As she and Niall slogged up the muddy mound bordered on either side by ditches to carry away the rain water, Mairi said, “Niall, I can dig if you’d rather pick.”

“Nah, Ma,” said Niall as he kicked the spade deep into the soft soil .  “I can do it.”  He turned over the soil revealing dirt covered golden nodules.  He turned over more soil in the same area then moved on to the next plant.  Mairi moved into where Niall had just dug and on her hands and knees in the mud and began feeling for potatoes.  When she found one, she’d wipe off as much as was quickly possible and then dropped it in the bucket.  When the bucket was full she took it to the wagon to dump the potatoes out.

As she was taking her first load of potatoes to the wagon, Ailean was also bringing his bucket, on he struggled with the weight letting it hit off his leg and allowing some potatoes to fall out.  Mairi set her bucket down after dumping it and went to give Ailean help.

“Here now, ye shouldna fill it so full.”  She helped him carry it to the wagon and tip it onto the bed.  Then she said, “Now, go and pick up those potatoes ye dropped.”

It took four hours before Mairi and Angus would finish for the day.  After two hours, Ailean had complained enough that Angus told him to go and keep the nag company.  Shortly thereafter, Mairi’s potato picking had caught up with Niall’s slowing digging and she told him to go and rest a bit.  When she returned with the next bucket full, both boys were gone.  She saw them in the distance heading toward home.

Angus was already at the wagon when Mairi returned with her last bucket.  He was leaning over the wagon bed pushing around potatoes, picking up the occasional potato, squeezing it, then throwing it back onto the pile.

“It’s no a lot, Mairi.”

“No, I know.  It was the wet, don’t ye suppose.”

“Aye, perhaps.”  Angus picked up another potato, squeezed it and held it out for Mairi to take.  “Some are already beginning to rot.”

Mairi took the potato and squeezed.  It was soft.  She tossed it onto the pile and shook her head.  “We best get them hame, out of the rain, before they rot anymore.”

Angus hitched up the horse and all three slowly headed back to Mairi’s cottage.  Much slower than before.

As they approached the cottage, Angus said, “Mairi, were ye expecting a visitor?”

Mairi looked toward the cottage to see a tall figure standing outside the door.  Through the light rain, she couldn’t immediately make out who it was, but then she thought, no one but Buchan is that tall.  Mairi said to Angus, “I was not, but from here it looks like Rabbie Buchan.”

“Aye, that it does,” replied Angus.

“I wonder what he’s about?” said Mairi to herself, but aloud.

Rabbie stayed next to the door, under the thatch overhang of the cottage roof, and shouted, “Mairi!  Mairi MacDonald!  It’s Rabbie Buchan!”

“Aye, I can see ye, Rabbie.  What bring ye here on a day like today?”

“I come with news, Mairi.”  Rabbie continued to stay out of the rain.  “Big news.”

Angus began turning the nag until the back of the cart faced the cottage.  As he did, Mairi stepped away and pointed to the stable door and said to Angus, “We’ll put them in there.”  Then turning back to Rabbie she said, “So, what news did ye bring then?”

“Right.  Angus, ye’ll want to hear this, as well.”

Angus replied, “Speak up then, man.  I want to get this done and get out of the rain and to a hot cup of tea.”

“Right,” said Rabbie.  “I just talked with the Factor this morning.  I saw him on the road.  Apparently, he’d been trying for the rent from MacRae again.  You know MacRae has not paid in some time.”  Rabbie paused as though allowing the last statement to settle.

“Is that the news ye’ve come to tell us, then?” asked Angus as he began pushing the nag and wagon backwards toward the stable door.  “That MacRae canna pay his rent?  Hep, hep.”

“Nay,” said Rabbie with an exasperated tone.

“What news, then?” asked Mairi with an air of impatience.

“Well, the Factor tells me that the mainland is all in an uproar, and the Laird was under a great deal of pressure, and laws were being considered in the South.  And then he said, ‘And so the Laird said to release them.’  What do you say to that?”

“I’m no followin ye, Rabbie,” said Mairi.

“Mairi, the Laird signed a release for Peter and all the others,” said Rabbie throwing his arms in the air as though triumphant.

Angus stopped with the nag.  “Why should we believe the Factor?”

“Ye dinna have to believe the factor.  He showed me the paper signed by the Laird himself.  After stopping at MacRae’s, the Factor was on his way to deliver it to the Sheriff.”  Turning to Mairi, Rabbie continued, “Mairi, Peter’s comin hame.”

Mairi was silent, as though she didn’t understand or didn’t know what to ask next.

Angus asked, “How did ye get so friendly that the Factor shows ye papers with the Lairds hand?”

“The Factor came to see me,” said Rabbie acting surprised that Angus would even ask such a thing.

“Like he came to see MacRae, too, eh?” said Angus as he once again began pushing the nag back.

Rabbie turned to Mairi, “Mairi, it’s true.  Ye can believe me or no, but I saw the papers.  It’s true.”

Mairi looked at Angus.  Angus nodded and said, “It sounds as though the Lord, God, is watchin out for ye, Mairi.”

Mairi turned away for a moment and then back to the wagon.  “We’d better get to it.  These potatoes won’t unload themselves.”

[1] A sort of spade used for cultivation.