New World Sasanaichs

Three

August, 1743

        Wilmington, New Hanover County, North Carolina

Just over three months later, the ship kent as the Beitris finally tied off to the dock in the port Town of Wilmington, one of the few settlements in the Colony of North Carolina. Those who’d boarded the ship back in Inverness couldn’t have been more grateful after months at Sea, but none who disembarked were as grateful as Jamie. Course, he was just as seasick as he’d been on the voyages to and from France, respectively–he was thinner than he shoulda been at his age, and his complexion resembled that of a Ghost more than that of a human.

        Thankfully, Lachlan Morgan was more than strong enough to heft him up like a man would his bride so he could carry her over the threshold on their wedding Night. Just the one man was able to pick him up and carry him off the ship, then to the nearest inn to procure rooms for their entire Traveling party. Said rooms’d only be used for however long it took him to recover enough to at least ride in the back of a wagon before they set off for their ultimate destination–what was kent as the backcountry.

        Once those rooms’d been procured, Róisín started making her rounds of everyone who’d just made the arduous Journey from Scotland aboard her family’s ship. All of her own family were doing just fine, if one didn’t count the typical exhaustion that was felt at the End of a long voyage, so she wasn’t too worried about them. Even Jenny–who’d been suffering some Morn sickness that was worsened by the movements of the ship–was doing just fine, and so was the bairn she was visibly carrying. For that matter, her husband and son–not to mention the aunt and cousin they’d convinced to come with them, as well–were doing better than expected as they settled in. That allowed her to focus her attention solely on the ginger lad, who’d thankfully avoided dislocating his shoulder again during their Journey.

        In the room that’d been procured for them, Murtagh was wiping his godson’s brow with a cool cloth as he settled into the bed he’d been lain on. A soft, but distressed burp escaped him, and Jamie couldn’t help looking and sounding sheepish as he quickly apologized for his apparent lack of manners. That earned him a soft reprimanding as he swore he needn’t worry about manners at the moment, even as he glanced up and saw the Healer quietly closing the door of their room. He could understand being more prone to making such noises till his wame settled completely, so he kent that he wasn’t actually trying to be rude as much as simply settle enough to consume something as light as broth.

        “Ye’re just in Time to work yer Ginger magick again,” the older man chuckled as their visitor joined them.

        “Looks like I’ll have to, and we’ve any Hope of getting sustenance into him,” she agreed with a chuckle of her own.

        “Ugh, I hate that shite,” his godson grumbled.

        “Aye, I ken it tastes terrible,” the young lass said. “But ye’d rather sip on that and have yer wame settle quicker, would ye no?”

        “Doesna mean I’ve to like it, ken,” he retorted almost stubbornly.

        “I never said ye’d to like it,” Róisín laughed, getting set up to brew the mixture that’d been mentioned. “But at least now that we’re on solid ground, ye shouldna need it after this.”

        “Depends on the route we’ve to take to get into this backcountry,” his godfather told her. “And we’ve to Travel by River, he’ll still need the Ginger to make it.”

        “His seasickness is that bad, aye?” she queried, cocking a brow at him.

        “Unfortunately, aye.” Murtagh nodded as he wiped his brow again, then his flushed cheeks. “He couldna even make it very far upriver on our way to Paris wi’out starting to heave again.”