That suited Maggie better. “Where is the new colony to be?”

“Nobody knows. It is a secret.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said, “the English and the Dutch do have their companies that sail to the East Indies, as I said, and they are jealous of our own, and do not wish to share the seas, and if they knew where we did mean to plant our colony, they might make trouble.”

Lily knew King William had been making trouble, too. Although he’d given his consent to the formation of the African Company and its aims, he’d since done all he could to prevent its success. It was by King William’s order that no English or Dutch investors had subscribed to the company, and the English merchants who had at first been so enthusiastically involved in the venture had withdrawn their support for fear of losing the king’s favor, leaving Scotland alone to carry the financial burden of raising enough capital.

But the people of Scotland, across all social ranks and religions, had risen to the challenge and subscribed their names into the company’s book, and the beautiful ships now anchored in the firth were a testament to what could be achieved when Scots looked past the things that did divide them and pursued a common dream.

Captain Gordon said to Maggie, “That is why those ships are larger. Because they must travel very far. They need more sail, and must be big enough to carry all the things they’ll need to trade, and build the towns, and transport the first people who will live there. And because they’re going to an unknown place, with unknown dangers, they must have more guns. I have not counted yet how many these ships have, but—”

“Fifty-six,” said Maggie. “I did count them when the Instauration came in yesterday.”

“Did you indeed?” The captain grinned. “I think, when you are grown, my first mate will need to be careful, lest I hire you instead. That is a big word for a small lass—Instauration. Do you know its meaning? No? It means the restoration of a thing that has been cast aside to fall into a state of disrepair, like our poor country, or our pride, which both do need to be renewed.”

“But they are changing it,” said Maggie.

“Aye. To the Saint Andrew, which is also a fine name for a ship of Scotland, and on this day above all others.”

Maggie nodded her agreement, for she knew about the patron saint of Scotland, and she’d always liked the festive nature of his feast day. “I’m wearing my saltire today,” she told the captain, showing him the diagonal X-shaped Saint Andrew’s cross pinned to her plaid. “And so is Dolly, only hers is made of wire. Henry made it.”

Captain Gordon bent to give it his appraisal. “Henry’s very clever.”

Henry having just come up to join them, laughed. “Ye’d be alone in thinking that, but I will take the compliment.” He greeted Captain Gordon, who had noticed something else on Dolly.