A Rope--In Case (6 page)

‘See that now,' said Erchy. ‘It's away to its nest. I've seen it near every night around this time an' it's never without an eel in its beak.' I leaned against a rock, resting my load as I watched the bird disappear over the ridge of the moor. It was the third evening in succession I myself had seen it flying thus.

‘Indeed an' I'll be glad to see my own nest tonight,' said Morag.

‘Me too,' agreed Katy fervently. ‘The sooner I get to my bed the better I'll be pleased.'

‘Ach, you an' Fergy can never wait to get to bed,' Erchy taunted her amid a burst of anticipatory laughter. Katy's glowing face glowed even deeper.

Old Sarah was suddenly serious. ‘Aye, but it's sad I am to see there's no sign of a bairn with you yet,' she observed regretfully, her eyes assessing Katy's slim body.

Katy's face assumed an enigmatic smile. She stared up at the navy-blue cloud that was waiting to engulf the sunset.

‘But never mind,' continued Sarah reassuringly. ‘I've no doubt when the Lord sees fit for you to have a bairn then the Lord will put a bairn in your belly, I doubt.'

Erchy stopped in his tracks and thinking he had noticed something unusual we too stopped. ‘Well,' he said, shaking his head in a puzzled way, ‘that's the first time I ever heard Fergus referred to as the “Lord”.'

He glanced briefly at the range of expressions on our faces, then doubtless anxious to escape the reproof that threatened he turned his back on us and went quickly ahead.

‘Oidhche mhath!' he called over his shoulder in a tight voice.

‘Oidhche mhath!' we returned uncertainly.

Down on the shore the men were working on their boats. Some tended small fires of driftwood over which cans of tar were being heated; others wielded saws and adzes, chisels and hammers. They greeted me abstractedly, only briefly interrupting their boat talk with its references to tumble-home and garboard strakes; to stern tubes and fairleads; to stems and aprons—enchanting names which at one time had been completely unintelligible to me but which now I could precisely identify. I paused beside Erchy's dinghy and watched him slathering melted tar into seams and cracks which showed through the thick, blistered coating that had been built up over the years.

‘More tar!' I commented with a grimace. If Erchy took me out in his dinghy I was expected to help haul it up and down the beach and tar makes a boat exceedingly heavy.

‘Aye.'

‘Is it necessary to do the boat every year?' I pursued.

‘Aye,' he said again. ‘Two weeks of June sun does more harm to a boat than two years in and out of the water.' He rammed the black sticky brush into the gap between two boards. ‘See that now?' he asked. ‘That's just the last few days that's opened that up. If I was to put her into the sea without tarring her the water would pour in, just.'

My experience of Erchy's dinghy had taught me that despite the tar the sea usually did pour into her. I was used to spending a lot of my time bailing.

‘I hear Hamish was after tryin' to sell you his new boat that he bought last year,' he said, straightening up and wiping the sleeve of his pullover across his fiery cheeks.

‘Was he?' I exclaimed. ‘When?'

‘Aye, so he was sayin'.' Erchy was positive. ‘The other night, just. He came to see you specially.'

I have never ceased to be astonished by the wiliness of the Bruachites. In my innocence I had been under the impression that Hamish had called to ask if I could sell him a hive of bees. I said as much to Erchy.

‘What would Hamish be wantin' with a hive of bees?' His tone was derisive. ‘You should have known better.'

‘Well, that's all he talked about,' I returned limply.

‘Ach, he'd make damty sure before ever he mentioned it that you couldn't sell him a hive of bees.' He reflected a moment. ‘Are you sure he made no mention of his boat at all?'

‘Not until he was leaving. Then he just said something about my needing a nice lightweight boat so that I could go fishing whenever I felt like it.'

‘An' did you agree with him?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, then, I doubt he thinks he's made a bargain with you.' Erchy slapped on more tar.

‘I certainly didn't say anything about buying his boat,' I said anxiously. ‘I can't possibly afford it yet.'

Erchy carefully placed the can of tar on the fire. ‘An' supposin' you could afford a boat yon's no good to you. Not if you've any sense,' he confided. I waited for enlightenment. ‘He got that boat at the beginnin' of last year an' then he went away to a job an' he just left her there on the beach without nothin' so much as done to her at all.' There was strong disapproval in his voice and expression. ‘This year when he tried to put her in the sea she was just like a colander. The only reason he thinks it right to try an' sell her to you is because he knows you can swim.'

‘Well, thanks for telling me,' I said, realising that the decision to warn me and thus betray his friend must for him have been a much considered one. ‘I'll remember to be careful what I say next time he comes to try to buy a hive of bees.'

‘You'll no say I told you.' It was a statement, not a question, and he needed no reply. He dipped the brush into the can and then held it poised so that a line of black scribbled itself over the stones. ‘I don't see him ever sellin' the boat hereabouts,' he said. ‘The only way he's likely to get rid of her is by puttin' her in the papers.'

The sea was calm; the tide was well out and I picked my way down to the shore and waded into the shallow water, intent on collecting carragheen moss to dry in preparation for making jellies and puddings. The moss grew on craggy sea-washed boulders which were exposed only at low tides and the more inaccessible the boulder the more nutritious the moss was considered to be. It was a congenial task for a perfect day. The sea washed languidly around my gumbooted feet; the smell of the barnacle-stippled tangle was fresh and strong. Convinced that I could feel the beneficial effect of every lungful I practised taking long deep breaths while I wrenched handfuls of moss from the abrasive rocks. When my bag was full I bent to dip my bleeding knuckles in the sea. The water was crystal clear and I could see the long thick stems of sea-wrack genuflecting with the lazy surge of the tide. Deeper down grew the secret jungle of other weeds in which no doubt all specimens of sea life awaited their prey. There would be lobsters, I knew, and crabs and perhaps a conger eel threading its sinuous way. I recalled the piece of chart from an echo-sounder which Angus, the fisherman, had once brought me and which stayed pinned to my kitchen wall for many weeks. The tints of the chart varied according to the atmosphere from a dark sepia to a paleness that left the outlines scarcely distinguishable, but on its sepia days it revealed the, to me unsuspected, peaks and valleys that make up the sea bed. It had never struck me until then that the sea conceals a land as rugged as the land we see. Angus had pointed out small smudges of sepia and interpreted them as shoals of fish. One shape of smudge showed the herring they were seeking; another showed a shoal of mackerel which was of little commercial value; yet another he distinguished as being ‘horse mackerel'—a fish they cursed not just because of its unsaleability but because its sharp fins made it difficult to shake out of the net. Eventually the piece of chart had faded permanently but while it was there it had proved as much a source of interest to my town friends as if it had been an expensively acquired painting.

I looked up as I heard a faint quacking and saw a proud shelduck appear leading her newly hatched family on an exploratory tour among the rocks. The drake followed and was the first to discern my presence. With husky warnings he ushered his mate and brood away. A little farther out a great northern diver rested on the water, seemingly motionless except when it lifted its beak to utter its strange wild cry. Each spring the solitary bird, known locally as ‘the Widow', came to the bay to wait expectantly for the mate which Tearlaich had shot three years previously. Each year it lingered long after the experts claimed it should have left our shores. Even as I watched she lifted her beak and the haunting despair of her cry was strangely affecting. The Bruachites were touched by the constancy of the bird and Tearlaich had to endure acrid references to his cruelty.

‘It was good eatin',' he defended himself ‘An' it's daft to feel like that when a bird's good for the pot.'

‘There's folks that say it's ill luck to kill them,' they warned him.

‘Ach, that's nonsense.' Tearlaich tried to make his voice sound indifferent but despite the remaining bird offering itself as a perfect target he never made any attempt to shoot it. If he was working near the shore and the diver's sudden cry startled him he would jump and mutter malediction.

Though there was no perceptible rise in the line of water around the rocks I knew the tide had turned. Living and working in close proximity to the sea one acquires an awareness of such things, so that a change of tide is more of a sensation than a observation. I sensed that there was a sort of brio, a small stirring of excitement in the water; that the slight breeze blew fractionally cooler on my skin. There was a new alertness in the attitudes of the sea birds which hitherto had been basking and preening themselves on the guano-spattered rocks; the excitement communicated itself to the life in the shallow pools far above the tide; tiny crabs heaved themselves out from the shell debris while sea anemones, which contracted looked like red sweets that had been sucked and spat out, now blossomed into rosettes of tentacles in expectation of their prey.

Slowly I made my way up the shore. The warm rocks were speckled with winkles whose shells had bleached grey in the sun. I flicked off several, sending them to join their inky black kindred in the pools. I picked up a few stems of the seaweed which the Bruachites referred to as ‘staff' and examined them. At the right stage of ripeness the weed was supposed to be very refreshing and Bruach children liked to munch a piece of ‘staff' as town children liked to munch a bar of nougat. But first it must be washed ashore. After a summer storm the children would search along the line of sea-wrack looking for a stem which had embedded in its pith a particular kind of sea snail. Like the fanner who maintains that the best cheese in his dairy is invariably the one the mouse will choose, so the children claimed that the sweetest stems of ‘staff' were the ones the snails liked to feast on. The stems I picked up were dry and untempting and I threw them down again.

The men were still working at their boats but with less dedication now. Erchy was wiping his tarry hands on a bundle of wet seaweed. He acknowledged me with a nod.

‘A lovely evening for a sail,' I observed in passing.

‘Aye, well, if that's what you've a mind for you'd get with Hector. He's to take that lady tourist for a run to Rhuna as soon as the tide's up far enough.'

I shook my head, having no mind to go. Rhuna was some miles away and having met the tourist in question I knew her to be irrepressibly garrulous. It is not only to the watcher on the shore that a small boat appears to diminish in size as it moves out to sea: the occupants are also aware that its confinity increases in proportion to the distance from the land and that any incompatibility among them will increase correspondingly. I did not seek an invitation from Hector but instead continued my scramble along the shore in search of whatever treasure I should be lucky enough to find.

The island beaches were a repository for every kind of flotsam and jetsam and there were few crofters who did not make a point of roaming the shores several times a week retrieving wood or other objects, some of whose legitimate use they were completely ignorant but which were salvaged because they might be of some conceivable use in the future. Every croft had its hoard and even if an object was not considered worth carrying home it was at least dragged up above high tide in case it should be needed at some time. And how often it was needed! Apart from firewood we found iron bolts and shackles and chains; hinges and odd pieces of metal which even if you had had access to a store you would have found it impossible to buy. We found drums of kapok with which we stuffed cushions and quilts; brushes and brooms; lengths of rope; tins of grease and drums of petroleum jelly. There were pieces of cork of every size and shape; oars and boathooks; enormous hatch-covers and pit-props for building; crates and boxes of every description. We found coir fenders which, if one could resist the importunings of the boat owners, made excellent pouffes, and the children had firework celebrations whenever bundles of cordite and smoke floats were washed ashore.

I gathered a good bundle of wood, roped it on my back and was about to make for home when I saw an interesting looking object a little further along the shore. Going to investigate I found it to be the washed-up carcase of a young stag. There was no visible sign of injury and I stood pondering how it had got into the sea in the first place. I heard a shout behind me. Yawn came hurrying up. He turned the beast over with his foot and we saw then the great sea-washed gash in its throat.

‘My, my, but that's a fine beast you have there.' His tone sounded congratulatory. ‘A fine beast indeed,' he repeated, ‘an' not more than a few hours in the water at that.'

‘How would it have got there?' I asked him.

‘Ach, fightin', I'm thinkin'.' He nodded in the direction of the largest of the outlying islands. ‘There's that many of them over there an' they get to fightin'.' He butted his head towards me in imitation of an angry stag. ‘This one must have got the worst of it an' gone away back till it was over the cliff an' into the sea,' he explained. He bent down, examining the carcase more closely and then he looked up at me.

‘You'll not get it home like this,' he said. ‘I'd best skin it for you.' I murmured a doubtful ‘Yes, please,' and let myself think of the uses of deer skin. He whipped out his knife and made a long slit in the belly. I turned away seaward as his hands plunged inside and detached the guts. There was a splash as the guts landed in the sea in front of me and I recoiled again.