03 Flower of Scotland

by Rick Dean

Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #2360969

A Scotsman proudly remembers his heritage - whether the English like it or not!

Flower of Scotland

The Defiance ran before the wind, topsails taut. Her bow plunged into the warm blue sea with each trough. Then the same sea cascaded off the bowsprit in a frothy white rush as each new swell greeted the ship. A forked-tailed frigatebird soared above her, only to cock its wings and dive at the sight of a fish-target. The ship seemed to glide over the light sea, as smooth as the expedition itself.

On board, the crew wore smiles, knowing that they’d each get a share of the giant chest they’d hauled aboard. The chest seemed to overflow with endless silver reales, gold escudos ▶︎ , diamonds, rubies, emeralds and who knows what other treasures. The score had seemed almost too easy. Sail out, dig it up, and now sail back, and all in less than two weeks. It felt as if they’d just left the wenches of St. Cruz. Some of the men still had money from the last cruise. Now they’d get a share of unfathomable wealth.

“I gotta say,” said Red Kelly as he gnawed on a ship’s biscuit, “when we get back, it’s right back to Nancy’s for me!”

“You and half the ship,” answered one of the three new men. His two companions immediately laughed.

“Only half?”

“I’ll be back there as well, fellas,” added Ralph, a doughy sailor from the midlands. “we’ll make it a night to remember!”

“More like a night we can’t remember,” answered Red.

“So lads,” Ralph continued, “that lass Dorothy that I was with last night. I think she fancies me.”

The new man nearly spit out his grog. “She fancies yer purse, I’d reckon.”

“She said she really liked me, she did.”

“Don’t be daft boy. They all say that. It's part o' the job for 'er.”

“If our shares are as big as the captain says, I’m going to marry her when we get back.”

At this, they all roared.

“I like you, Ralph,” said Red, “so I hate to say this but you’re a bloody fool. Yer embarassin’ yerself. She’s already forgotten ye.”

“He’s right,” added one of the new men, “why I’ll wager the first round for the five of us that when you walk in there she won’t even remember your name.”

Ralph’s face flushed. “You’ll see,” he said with a sniff, “Dorothy likes me! She really does. She’s not like all the other girls. I’ll go back and she’ll remember what we said to each other! Then we’ll be off and married! You’ll see!”

The laughter deepened to full belly-laughs, while Ralph seemed to struggle to hold back tears. The quartermaster approached and spared him further mockery.

“You three,” Mr. English pointed at the new men, “you riff-raff look like you know your way around a ship. Where do you call home?”

“Glasgow. Or close enough anyway.”

“And your names?”

“I’m Angus Mac…”

“No last names. You think my name’s really English? When you sail on the account you can claim whatever name you want. But no real names. A man about to dance the hempen jig cant give up his mates if he doesn't know any names.”

“Aye.”

“So, which’ll ye call yerself, mate? Angus Scott or Angus Glasgow? I'd suggest Scott or you'll wind up known as the Glass Cow.”

“Scott it is. Glasgow’s a mite specific, anyway. And this here’s my brother Malcolm. And he's Ronnie. We grew up together. Might as well be our brother.”

“Well met, Angus Scott. This ship’s too quiet. Are ye much of a singer, Mr. Scott?”

“I’ve not a honeyed voice, but it’ll do.”

“Don’t listen to him,” his brother interrupted, “he's talking cobbles. He can sing right well. But you’ll not like that which we sing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Judgin’ by yer name, yer English. English bastards don’t like proper Scottish songs. We sing about Bannockburn not Flodden ▶︎

“There’s all kinds on this ship, Mr. Scott. Just don’t get carried away.”

Ronnie set his feet and settled in, feeling the sway of the ship. The Defiance swayed a natural three-quarter time as she rocked in the swells of the sea. Malcolm took a position next to the rail, poised to tap out a rhythm. After a few moments, Ronnie began to sing and Angus supported the melody.

“O Flower of Scotland, when will we see yer like again?” he began.

Despite his claims of a weak voice, Ronnie sang with a full baritone. Angus’s tenor supported him. In an instant, the crew could tell they’d sung this song together before. The creaking of the ships timbers as she rode the swells played a somber counter-melody as Ronnie sang and Malcolm tapped out the time, tapping his feet and hitting the rail with a marlin spike.

The song told a tale, centuries old, and familiar to Highlander and Lowlander alike. They sang of the Battle of Bannockburn in the year 1314, a victory for the Scots over the English in the first War of Scottish Independence. The English king, Edward II invaded Scotland with a massive army, only to fall to the vastly outnumbered forces of Robert the Bruce.

“Aye,” the quartermaster responded to that verse with a grin, “and you Scots haven’t shut up about it since.”

The song continued to sing the praises of the brave Scotsmen who fought and died for the wee bit of hill and glen, standing up to Proud Edward’s army. In truth, the Scots invited Edward in, even if he’d overstayed his welcome. The Scottish king had died, and two rivals for the throne agreed to let King Edward decide which man would rule. Edward thought to choose himself. At the end of each stanza, the song reminded the audience that the Scots did:

“Sent him homeward tae think again.”

The two Scottish rivals in the song had been John Balliol and Robert the Bruce. Robert had emerged from that squabble victorious, only to find himself facing Edwards advancing English army. The English force outnumbered Robert by around four to one. However, he’d organized his troops into tight formations of spearmen and set them in marshy terrain. The English cavalry, despite their superior numbers, met their match in the form of the spears and the mud. King Edward himself fled the battlefield and the defeat turned into a rout. Few Englishmen survived.

At the third verse, Malcolm slowed his tempo to half-time; still timing his rhythm with the natural rocking of the ship. Ronnie poured out lines describing the bare hills of autumn, and of land lost, dearly held. By now, mist seeped out of the corners of his eyes. Angus’s voice soared in accompaniment. Even the most hardened deck-hand bent their ear. Ronnie belted out a final line where:

“We can still rise now and be that nation again!”

He may have sung of Scotland, but the hearts of the Irish, the Colonists, and even the lone Frenchman, all swelled. He sang for one nation, yet he sang for the downtrodden everywhere. Had the bloody Spanish – or anyone else – showed up at that moment, God help them, for the crew of The Defiance would not.

WORD COUNT ▶︎

VIDEO ▶︎

LYRICS ▶︎

Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.