Robbie Taggart Read online

  © 1987 by Michael Phillips and Judith Pella

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-2982-3

  The songs “The Bonny Sailor” and “Ratcliffe Highway” are from Real Sailor Songs, John Ashton, ed. 1891. Reissued by Benjamin Blom, Inc., 1972.

  The song “Adieu, Sweet Lovely Nancy” is taken from the collection of songs, The Valiant Sailor, ed. by Roy Palmer, Cambridge University Press, 1973.

  The song in the last chapter is Shanty Hymn by Bob Cull and is from his album “Last Horizon.”

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Eric Walljasper

  Judith Pella is represented by The Steve Laube Agency

  Dedication

  To every man who is open enough and courageous enough to search for his manhood on the non-conforming path of God’s course for his life. And to the women—mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters—who are such an integral part of that journey.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Part I: Royal Navy

  1. “Doon Frae the Highlands”

  2. Out of Kilter

  3. Final Insult

  4. Benjamin Pike

  5. A Surprise Meeting

  6. Dreams and Delusions

  7. Decisions Weighed

  Part II: Sea Tiger

  8. The Tiger’s Complement

  9. Midnight Visitations

  10. The Tiger Sets Sail

  11. Harmony at Sea

  12. Accusations

  13. Stowaway

  14. Designs

  15. A Stop at Lisbon

  16. Calm

  17. The Squall

  18. South Past the Cape

  19. The Vicar’s Attempt

  20. Calcutta

  21. An Angel Unaware

  22. The Call of the Highlands

  23. Typhoon on the China Sea

  24. Unscheduled Layover

  25. Sea Pirates

  26. Attempted Negotiations

  27. Sobering Questions

  28. They That Go Down to the Sea in Ships

  29. Final Port of Call for the Sea Tiger

  Part III: China

  30. The Mission

  31. The Rabbit and the Swan

  32. Dinner at the Compound

  33. An Unexpected Witness

  34. In the House of Chang Hsu-yu

  35. A Family Matter

  36. The Vicar’s Fall

  37. Sunday at the Mission

  38. The Young Missionary

  39. Through the Waterways

  40. An Inauspicious Ending

  41. Flight of the Phoenix

  42. The Lieutenant and the Warlord

  43. The Sailor and the Monk

  44. Man of Faith

  45. Questions and Answers

  46. Tale From the Past

  47. Interlude

  48. Evil Schemes

  49. Fools Rush In

  50. Where Angels Fear to Tread

  Part IV: Awakening

  51. Changes

  52. The Hillside Again

  53. Letter From Afar

  54. Expectation

  55. Fulfillment

  56. The Call on a Man’s Heart

  57. Whither Thou Diest

  Part V: Return

  58. A Man and His Daughter

  59. Stormy Waters

  60. How the Mighty Have Fallen

  61. A Friend in Need

  62. God’s Power Made Perfect In Weakness

  63. The Fanning of the Flames

  64. The Passing of the Torch

  65. Last Battle Against Old Enemies

  66. Out of the Depths of the Past

  67. Not My Will, Lord

  68. Reunions

  69. Homecoming

  70. Looking Ahead

  71. Lead Me Where I’m A-goin’

  Afterword

  About the Authors

  Books by Michael Phillips

  Books by Judith Pella

  Back Ads

  Introduction

  When Robbie Taggart stepped out of a snowstorm onto the pages of Jamie MacLeod’s story, we knew very little about him. Yet immediately we were intrigued by the fellow. As bits and pieces of his personality and roots gradually were revealed, the better we came to know him. We really could not help liking him! It was not long before we realized—this man’s story has to be told.

  Of course, at that point we knew only fragments of how that story might develop. Through Jamie’s eyes we learned a great deal. She helped us see Robbie from new perspectives and gave us a broader picture of what made him tick. Yet we sensed there was more to it even than Jamie realized. Robbie Taggart soon became so real and compelling that we had to find out what became of him after he and Jamie parted! Thus we donned our boots and caps, struggled to firm up our sea legs under us, and set out to accompany this most fascinating Scottish sailor.

  Robbie had often confessed to Jamie his itch for new adventures, and in the story of this part of his life, he winds up in the mysterious China of the 1880’s. The future awaiting Robbie surprised even us a bit as the pages unfolded. After he had left Jamie at Aviemere, the train took him south and away from the Highlands, leaving Jamie behind to marry Lord Edward Graystone. Robbie pondered his future during those first days. Yet even in the midst of his uncertainty and soul-searching so uncharacteristic of his previous attitudes about life, it seemed inevitable that sooner or later Robbie’s wanderlust would lead him again to the sea.

  How glad we are that we didn’t turn into landlubbers and abandon ship for more familiar territory!

  From his first appearance at Sadie Malone’s pub in Aberdeen, we must say we would never have guessed the sort of man Robbie turned out to be. We are thankful that the same Providence leading Jamie to Aviemere and guiding Robbie’s footsteps led us on our travels in the writing of these pages. For the experience has been life-changing for both of us.

  No doubt Robbie is such a captivating personality because he is in so many ways typical of all men. His quest to discover just what it means to be a man is a journey all men must make sooner or later. Like Christian of Pilgrim’s Progress, Robbie’s pilgrimage ultimately leads inside himself, to that Source of manhood, whose Voice is so near yet so difficult to hear until the ultimate tests of personhood are required.

  Robbie’s open and courageous stand to take the path perhaps less footworn, more difficult to discern in today’s world, has been for us an illuminating adventure far beyond the mere penning of a tale. It is our hope and prayer that as you participate in Robbie’s personal voyage, you will feel the roll of the waves under your legs, the spray of
the sea on your face, and, perhaps, the call of the same Voice in your heart.

  Michael Phillips

  Judith Pella

  Part I

  Royal Navy

  1

  “Doon Frae the Highlands”

  Summer had come to the Scottish Highlands, proving it to be the loveliest spot on any of the seven continents. Robbie Taggart knew this better than most men, for he had seen them all. Yet as he stared absently out the window of the speeding train at his final glimpse of the grand countryside of the north, he could not help wondering why he found it so difficult to stay put and settle down in this bonny land of his birth.

  But the wide world was always calling—compelling him to move, to wander, to discover distant horizons. And so he followed the divergent paths of the earth, and the seas of the earth—if not searching for adventure, at least with a confidence that adventure would always come to him.

  It was a fine June day. There had been snow just one week earlier, and in the distance he could see reminders of it on the receding Grampian Mountains. He thought he could just barely make out Ben Tirran to the northwest. And of course farther west, near the Glen Ey Forest, the peaks would no doubt still have remnants of snow upon them in early July, despite the warmth that had so suddenly followed the last of the spring storms.

  Ah, it was indeed a fine land! He could smell the grassy hillsides as the train sped by. Yet the fragrant aroma only reminded him of the nostalgic smell of peat, a smell by which all true Highlanders are bound together in common love, and struggle against the harsh elements that make up the essential character of their homeland.

  And was that, after all, why he found himself forever leaving the Highlands, yet forever longing to return? Was it because the land at once drew him by its openness, its vastness, its solitude, its quiet, but at the same time repelled him with its harshness, its unforgiveness, its barrenness? The memory of the peat fire sending out its warmth and aroma through his aunt’s little cottage where he and his family had often stayed during his roving childhood, was a pleasant one. Yet it took the advance of years for him to recall the difficulty with which his aunt had to trudge through snow and bitter cold to bring those peats into the house so that her guests might be warm.

  It was indeed a hard land. Living a lifetime on it was not easy. Perhaps that is why he had chosen not to stay.

  Yet still he had hesitated when the man he’d spoken with after climbing aboard several hours earlier had asked him, “An’ why are ye come doon frae the Highlands, laddie?”

  An answer had not come quickly to his lips. Because perhaps for the first time Robbie Taggart had experienced a sensation which was up till recently utterly foreign to him—that of being unsure of himself.

  “Glamis, Cargill, Perth!” called the conductor as he strode through the car, trying to walk with a more important gait than his trim gray uniform occasioned. Pausing beside Robbie, he bent his iron-straight frame slightly and cocked his head with an air of official confidence. “We’ll be in Cargill a good two hours, sir, an’ ye’ll fin’ it worth yer while t’ wait for yer lunch till then—’tis a pub in the toon I highly recommend.”

  “Thank you kindly, sir,” replied Robbie with a grin. “I’ll anticipate it with relish.”

  Having himself served on the Black Sea during the Crimean War, and partial toward navy men, the conductor made it his special duty to see to it that this young naval officer enjoyed a pleasant journey. In return Robbie had listened attentively to the man’s tales of the “guid auld days,” and the real war, as the man seemed now to so fondly remember the bloody time in the Crimea. Robbie liked the old blue jacket, and found himself amused at how seriously he took his present charge of conducting the Queen’s train, very much, no doubt, in the same manner he must have carried himself aboard Her Majesty’s frigate some twenty-five years earlier.

  But Mr. Murdock had been a mere deckhand at the time, and no doubt greatly embellished the facts of his exploits in the Ukraine and Turkey. The sailors and “swabbies” did all the dirty work in the navy, and the only glory they obtained from the experience was what they managed to bring home through the eyes of their imagination. But even Murdock’s dirty work probably far surpassed anything I have done as an officer in the Royal Navy, Robbie thought to himself. His commission certainly hadn’t been what he’d expected.

  When Murdock had passed on down the aisle, Robbie leaned back in his seat. What stories would he have to tell years from now of his own tenure in Her Majesty’s Navy? He had certainly regaled Jamie with enough of them to bore anyone but that dear soul to distraction. And he, too, had embellished a good many of the facts, though he was not certain if it had been to hide some dissatisfaction within himself, or merely to impress Jamie.

  Well, if it had been the latter, he had not been altogether successful. He had put up a stoic front, and in fact had probably never really realized that he’d loved her until it was too late and she’d made her choice. By then, what could he do? She had preferred the stern, roughly hewn Edward Graystone over himself.

  Robbie cherished no exalted opinion of his own good looks. He was not much aware of his thick black, wavy hair and vivid sea-blue eyes set in high-boned masculine features, nor of his six-foot, muscular frame. He had been told often enough that he was handsome, but he had never put much importance in such things.

  And the situation with Edward Graystone perhaps proved his perceptions well founded. Dashing good looks had certainly not won Robbie the fair maiden in that case. Graystone had possessed something else that had attracted Jamie.

  Yes, Robbie envied the laird of Aviemere—not for his wealth, nor his title, nor for the vast estate, but rather because he held within his heart’s possession the gentle, delicate Jamie MacLeod.

  Dear Jamie . . . thought Robbie.

  The weeks that had passed since their parting had brought a measure of healing. Yet he now knew that Jamie had been that pearl of great price for which a man would sell all he had to possess. He had not known it soon enough, for she had indeed worn a rough outer shell for many years. But he knew it now. And with the reminder came a sigh.

  Robbie knew little about scriptural lessons, probably picking up this tidbit from a sea captain delivering his Sunday seaboard service. The higher implications of the passage were lost to him. But he knew a prize when he saw one, and the moment his eyes had been opened to Jamie’s inner beauty, he knew she was the kind of woman a man would give up everything for. Everything, for Robbie, meant the sea, the carefree life, his freedom. He had not even paused to consider what such a sacrifice might mean to a man like himself, for whom freedom as a man was intrinsically linked to manhood itself. And he had tried to make light of the conflict in his heart when he realized she was in love with another man.

  Yet as crushed as he had temporarily been to lose her, another part of him almost sighed with relief. Now he would be free to roam again. What was the matter with him? Did he not truly love her after all?

  He remembered that day not long after he had first met Jamie when the tables had been turned. She was but a grubby shepherd lass, and as in love as she knew how to be with the more experienced, worldly wise sailor Robbie Taggart. He had said to her, when he had been the one to reject her offer of love:

  “You know I care for you, and always will. I’ll never stop being a big brother to you . . . that’s not so bad, is it? Brothers and sisters love each other, Jamie. ’Tis just a different kind of love. . . .”

  So, had he fallen into the same deception as the young and innocent shepherdess? Had he—the sophisticated man of great worldly experience—made a fool of himself? He would have thought the thing inconceivable a year earlier! Yet down inside that’s exactly how he felt—a fool.

  But in truth, Robbie knew little of love. Yes, he was well-versed in occasional words of shallow affection. And he knew the best pubs the world over. He knew how to deport himself in a brawl, and how to keep his money in his pockets.

  But love . . . t
hat was another matter.

  Even Robbie knew that love entailed commitment, a trait his character was largely lacking. And though many young women from the four corners of the earth had fallen in love with the dashing and handsome Scottish sailor, he had remained aloof beyond a merry jig or a shared pint of ale. And those who knew Robbie best did not much mind, for his was the free kind of spirit that few felt equal to conquer. Yet neither man nor woman could say that Robbie was not a grand fellow, a true friend, loyal and forthright, who also knew how to have a good time.

  All this had somehow changed with Jamie—changed . . . but he could not say how. And nothing that had happened helped him to understand that phenomenon called love, nor to fully grasp the conflicting emotions within his heart. He had lost Jamie to another, but he still possessed his freedom. He would not be tied to home and hearth, flower gardens and banker’s hours. Yet suddenly, staring out the window with the lovely landscape racing past, he wondered at the price he had paid for his freedom. Were hearths and flower gardens such a bad thing for a man to live for? Did a piece of him, after all was said about the footloose-and-fancy-free life, actually long for what Edward Graystone had?

  How foreign such thoughts would have seemed only a short time ago! But now, he wondered if he would ever have a secure foothold in life, a stopping place where he would feel completely at ease. Was he meant always to roam, to watch the hills of home fade from sight, to say goodbye rather than hello? Or did he, in reality, want it that way?

  Another part of him loved his life, even though there were more farewells than he could remember. Only this most recent farewell had been harder than any previous one to dislodge from his mind. Never before had he pined for his home or for any lost love, save for a moment or two aboard ship when a mate would draw out a harmonica and softly play Robbie Burn’s melancholy tune:

  My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

  My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,

  A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe—

  My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go!

  But Robbie was not a lover of the roving, independent, sea-faring life because he was a hard or insensitive man. Indeed, there were complexities within his character that seemed to contradict altogether the stereotype of the hard-bitten and crusty sailor. Even as he thought about Jamie, a tear tried to break the manly surface of his eyes, though he quickly brushed it away. And he knew now, as perhaps never before, that a part of him would always remain in the Highlands, not only because of the special love he felt for Jamie, but also in the deep affection she had opened within him for this rugged, matchless land.