Buy a Copy:

Description:

Return to an age where sail was being challenged by steam, new continents were opening, and the world was full of opportunities for people to be as good—or as evil—as they chose. When the body of a local shipwright is found on the beach in 1840 Aberdeen, Scotland, neither the customers and suppliers he cheated—nor the women he seduced—are surprised.

But the mystery intrigues wood-carver John Grant, who determines to seek out the murderer. His work and his investigations bring him into contact with a rich merchant, William Anderson—and his daughter Elizabeth. Commissioned to create a figurehead that combines the features of two women, John eventually uncovers a shocking tale of blackmail and death as, simultaneously, he struggles to resist the pangs of unexpected love.

Excerpt:

“You’ll be ready to set up on your own before long,” he said. “This is good work.”

John was acknowledged by most to be one of the finest carvers in Scotland and Jamie knew that praise from him was the most precious testimonial he could get.

“I won’t be stayin’ here, though,” he said. “No’ if Jenny has any say in it.”

“How’s that?”

Jamie reached into the pocket of his overalls and brought out a cutting from the Aberdeen Journal. He passed it to John, who scanned quickly through it. It said that the Eastern Coast of Central America Commercial and Agricultural Company would, for twenty pounds, convey a man and his wife to a settlement on the river Polochic, feed them on board ship throughout the six to eight week passage and give them forty acres of freehold land on arrival.

“So you’ll be a farmer?” said John.

Jamie nodded his head, though without much conviction. “There’s other jobs,” he said. “As soon as folk get there, they get work straight away. Good wages, too. And the Journal says that there’ll still be plenty even if ten times more go over there.”

John remembered that he’d felt the same excitement when he and Marie had toyed with the idea of emigrating. The stories told of a huge country where there was space for everyone and where owning land wasn’t just the privilege of a few but an automatic right for every family. For those driven from the Highlands or put out of work by the new machines or simply too poor to make any sort of start in Scotland, it seemed an opportunity devised by God himself.

“Well, there’s no shortage of timber there, that’s true,” said John, handing the cutting back. “You’ll be able to make yourself a fine cabin. Maybe make some carvings in its beams. Set up as a house carver.”

Jamie smiled and reached out to flick a curl of shaving away from the scrollwork. “Got to get the twenty pounds first,” he said.

For what it was buying it wasn’t a great sum but for an apprentice with a girl friend who worked as a chamber maid, it might as well have been two hundred.

“Have you been saving?” asked John.

Jamie nodded. “Over a year. We’ve got six pounds twelve shillin’s.”

On the sort of wages he and Jenny earned, it was a significant amount and it proved that they were serious about their plans.

“Two more years then,” said John.

Jamie’s young face was set grimly as he replied, “Aye.” In his eagerness to see the new world and set up home with Jenny, two years probably sounded like a lifetime.

“You’ll maybe change your mind meantime,” said John.

“I don’t think so, John,” said Jamie. “What am I goin’ to be here?”

“One of the best carvers in town.”

Jamie smiled. “Aye, and I’m proud to hear you say it, but can you ever see me walkin’ the Plainstones, settin’ up in a villa in Ferry Hill, ridin’ up to Deeside to shoot the deer?”

John was surprised at the words. “Is that what you want?”

Jamie laughed. “I don’t know. But I see others doin’ it and I know I canna. And that doesna feel right.”

It was a feeling John himself had had many times. The gap between those who seemed to have everything and those who had precious little was evident throughout the city. There were enlightened attitudes toward the poor and the sick but the feeling was still that there was a natural order which separated society into layers that were a necessary part of its processes.

“You’re serious then, are you? Talked about it?”

“Aye. No question. It was just dreamin’ at first but when you see the folk that’ve gone already... It’s no’ just dreams, John. Jenny’s wantin’ away from bobbin’ and curtseyin’ all the time.”

“How about you?”

“Oh you know fine I’m glad to be workin’ with you, but I’ve got itchy feet. I want to see things.”

John smiled. Once again, he remembered the frustrations that had hedged around the plans he and Marie had made, qualifying them, forcing them to think small thoughts when they wanted to shake the world.

“Aye, well,” he said, “if you’re wanting help finding the twenty pounds, you just have to say. I’ll lend you what I can.”

Jamie looked down at the bench, then away at the far wall of the workshop. When he looked back at John again, tears were beginning to shine in his eyes.

“Would you do that, John?”

John saw that he’d had to swallow before risking his voice. “I don’t care how much it costs. Just as long as I get rid of you,” he said.

Jamie smiled and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s just...” He stopped, sniff ed and continued in a rush. “It’s just that Jenny’s pa says he can let us have some and my ma’s the same and I’ve got a few things I could sell if we’re leavin’ and... well, I worked it out. We just need seven pounds to take us past the twenty.”

It was a lot of money but Jamie had always worked well and responded honestly to the challenges he’d been set. He was worth more than John was allowed to pay him and, since the only reason that John had money saved was to be ready for the unexpected, the opportunity was clear.

“Seven pounds,” said John. “A fortune. I’ll want interest. I think maybe a thousand per cent might cover it.”

“Only a thousand?” said Jamie.

“Well, I’ll expect to have unlimited access to your wife if I’m ever in your part of the world.”

Jamie shook his head. “No, it’s too much.”

“All right,” said John. “Just a loan. We’ll talk about the interest later. You pay me back when you can.”

He held out his hand. Jamie took it then suddenly jumped up, reached across and hugged him.

“God, John. I don’t know how I... But I’ll pay you back. With interest, too. You won’t be...” He gave a final squeeze and disentangled himself. “The first wages I get,” he said, “before I spend anythin’ over there, I’ll send them back to you.”

“You haven’t even booked your ticket yet,” said John. “I think you’d better speak with Jenny about it.” He stood up and banged the flat of his hand against the trail boards. “Anyway, you’re not going anywhere until these are finished.”

The tears had gone from Jamie’s eyes and a wide smile lit his face. “God blessed me when he sent me to you John,” he said.

“Aye, and the devil will start munching on your arse if you don’t get back to work,” said John. “D’you think you can finish the trail boards yourself?”

The question surprised Jamie. Usually, John did the detailed work himself. Entrusting it to Jamie was a further sign of the change that had taken place. He knew that it was John’s way of setting him free, telling him that he had what was needed to succeed on the other side of the ocean. He resisted the temptation to hug John again and, instead, picked up a small straight gouge and started studying the timber on the workbench.

His pleasure made John feel good. He knew that, when the news got out that he needed a new apprentice, there would be lots of boys to choose from, but Jamie had been a fast learner and he worked well. He put a hand on the lad’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze and left him once more to work unsupervised.

He walked out once again into the bright April afternoon and strolled slowly back toward Footdee. He had no clear purpose in mind and, as he walked, he thought of Jamie and Jenny and the excitement of the two of them setting out on their adventure. There would be the weeks of boredom and sickness in the hold of some barque as she punched her way across the Atlantic against the prevailing winds, but then, with luck, they’d find that the land they’d bought was cleared, with roads leading them easily to it and friends and neighbors who’d made the same choices and knew what they needed to get them started.

To his surprise, the thoughts of Marie that came to him held less bitterness than usual. As he tried to recapture the sound of her laughing and the glow of her golden hair, another image came unbidden to replace her. It was one that had flicked in and out of his mind many times already; the pale, simple silhouette of Helen Anderson, elegant against the darkness outside Jessie Crombie’s doorway. He remembered the smell of her as she’d passed him, the flash of her eyes in the lamplight, the low, respectful music of her voice as she’d spoken to Jessie.

He shook his head to rid himself of such fancies. Women only complicated things. He’d be better worrying away at the death of Jimmie Crombie.

Customer Reviews:

The author's extensive research is apparent in the details of shipbuilding as well as the moral fiber of people who lived during that period of Scottish history. A resident of Aberdeen, Kirton lightly weaves Scottish brogue into the fabric of the story — just enough to make the scenes authentic and pull the reader in. His characters are artfully drawn, particularly his female characters. I would give "The Figurehead" a 5-star rating because it's beautifully written and leaves me wanting more.

— Jean Henry Mead, author, "Diary of Murder," "A Village Shattered," "Escape, A Wyoming Historical Novel"