It was not Leith, but Maggie had grown used to it.

The Clyde was not the Firth of Forth. The water would not be so wide to cross, and it looked calmer, and when the west wind blew the clouds, the hills that rose so gently on the river’s farther side were chased by sun and shadow in a different way from those at home.

There was only one true street to speak of in Crawfurdsdyke, running along parallel to the river and on into Greenock. Some houses, including the one they were boarding in, lay between that and the water’s edge. Some others had been built south of that road, fronting onto it. And beyond those lay the farms and the woods and behind all of that rose more hills, holding everything snugly enclosed.

But there was still a harbor, with a sea wall and a pier of rough-hewn, reddish stones, laid tightly without mortar. It was twice as tall as Maggie, twice her height across in breadth, and curved out into the bright water of the Clyde like a stone scythe.

She and Sophia walked along it, each of them holding one of Dolly’s hands, the way Lily and Henry once held Maggie’s hands when they walked her along the Shore at Leith when she was small.

Maggie was finishing her story. “But it was all right because Don Quixote and Sancho Panza rode out together at night all in secret on their first adventure, too. They gathered their money and left without saying goodbye, only we said goodbye first to Henry.”

They’d come to the curve of the pier, from where they had the best view—not only of the smaller fishing boats sheltered within the close curve of the pier, but of the larger ships lying at anchor now out in the Greenock Road, and the activity going on all round them.

There were four ships now, though Maggie had eyes for but one of them—the Rising Sun, which had been there to greet them in May when they’d first arrived, richly resplendent in all her red paint with her carved, gilded ornaments painting the Clyde’s current glittering gold with their scattered reflections. Most beautiful, in Maggie’s eyes, were the two rising suns, with their rays spreading out, fore and aft, so whichever direction one viewed the ship from, a new day was about to begin.

“Thirty-eight guns,” Maggie said, even though Captain Gordon was not there to hear, nor admire her for making the count. Then, to cover the fact that she missed Captain Gordon, she turned to Sophia and said, “That’s the ship we’ll be sailing on.”

Sophia sighed. “I do wish that I was sailing, too. But Mother says she’ll send for us when she is certain that my daddie has our house built properly. He went ahead last year.”

“My cousin did, as well,” said Maggie. “He did marry onto Lily, all in secret, like, afore he went. I’d hoped she’d marry onto Matthew, but…” Her voice trailed off. She raised her free hand in a gesture she’d seen Lily often do, to shield her eyes against the sunlight on the water. “Lily says my cousin’s very nice, and that he’ll keep us safe.” Which made her think. She asked Sophia, “Who will keep you and your sister safe, with both your parents gone to Caledonia?”