7

As it turned out, the following Wednesday was exactly as forecast. Rain pelted Kinloch, aided and abetted by a strong westerly gale, which kept mariners and aviators alike away from their toil.

Sandy Hoynes was standing beside Hamish and a slightly built man with a squint at the bar of the Douglas Arms. The hostelry was busy, with a fair number of land-bound fishermen taking advantage of the day off to enjoy a dram or two.

‘No’ a sign o’ they pilots, Hamish. Isn’t it jeest typical – the way oor luck’s been playing o’er the last while, and no mistake.’

‘Och, Sandy, but you’re a right pessimist. I telt you, I had that dream last night – we’ll meet them today, right here. There’s nae doubt aboot it.’

‘Fortunately I have faith in your prescience, Hamish. But I could still do wae another wee sensation – jeest tae keep the spirits up. Is it no’ your round, Geordie?’

The man with the squint turned; he appeared to take in both Hoynes and Hamish at the same time before reaching into his pocket. ‘Is it no’ enough you’re commandeering my wee bothy and my Land Rover? You want me tae buy drinks, tae.’

‘We’ve filled her up wae diesel, Geordie. Aye, and this wee scheme will be an advantage tae you as well. You’ve caught less than us o’er the last few weeks,’ noted Hamish.

‘I don’t deny it. If I hadna kept they sheep an’ that oot at Glen Brackie, I don’t know how we’d have made ends meet.’

‘It’s a hell o’ a trek, mind,’ said Hoynes. ‘I’m no’ sure I’d want tae dae that every day, especially efter a hard day at sea. Off tae look efter sheep and the like. You’ve got a big heart, Geordie.’

‘You know fine I widna manage it mysel’. Beth does a lot o’ that – unless the weather’s the way it is today. She doesn’t like running the risk o’ the Piper’s Pass in heavy rain.’

‘The Piper’s Pass is as safe as hooses. I canna mind the last time there was a landslide,’ said Hamish.

‘Easy for you tae say. Her grandfaither was crushed under it in nineteen forty-seven. Every time there’s any heavy rain, she’ll no’ go anywhere near it. Jeest as well we’re on this mission the day. I’d have tae have gone oot in any event.’

‘Ten miles o’ rough tracks, then a pile o’ auld sheep for company. As I say, you’ve got a big heart, Geordie.’

Geordie paid for the drinks and sighed. ‘It’s no’ all bad. The wee bothy is cosy enough once you get the fire set. Everything you need. I’ve even got a wireless, so it’s no’ much different fae being in the wheelhoose. I get a brew goin’, get a bite on the wee stove, and sit back. Not a soul tae bother you, herself back in the toon, the gas lamps flickering wae the firelight – it’s fair relaxing.’

‘No’ if the Piper’s Pass comes doon on your heid,’ remarked Hamish, taking the first sip of his fresh dram.

‘It’s happened once since I had the place – well, since I’ve been married tae Beth, it coming fae her family.’

‘Was that in fifty-six, Geordie?’ asked Hoynes.

‘Aye, it was that. Fortunately, it was Davy, Beth’s brother who’d gone oot. We’d had tae put in at Sanda, if you mind. Hellish weather, all together. Beth widna consider it, so he stepped intae the breach.’

‘An’ him busy at the bank all day, tae,’ said Hamish.

‘But the crofting’s still in his blood. Mark you, he hasna offered since.’

‘Are you surprised?’ said Hoynes. ‘Was he no’ stranded for near a week?’

‘He was that. It was the worst week o’ gales anyone can remember. We managed tae get the lifeboat intae the wee bay at Caribeg and got him hame. He’d been eating limpets, the poor bugger. Near lost the will tae live.’

‘At least it didna fall on his heid,’ said Hamish.

‘No, but he didna miss it by much. Maybe aboot half an hour. He heard the roar as the hillside collapsed, mind. Aye, and the piper, tae.’

‘That’s jeest an auld wife’s tale,’ scoffed Hoynes. ‘It was likely the wind whistling through the eaves o’ that bothy o’ yours.’

‘Indeed it was not,’ said Geordie indignantly. ‘He even named the tune – “The Flooers O’ The Forest”. You can ask him to this day.’

The three of them stood in silence, contemplating the plight of the stranded man. Their musings were interrupted when the door burst open to reveal two men, rain running off their slate-grey raincoats in rivulets.

‘A pint of your very best, landlord!’ shouted the taller of the two, as they shrugged off their soaking garments. ‘And a drink for the bar, while you’re at it,’ he added, spreading his coat over a radiator.

Amidst the clamour of orders, Hoynes winked at Hamish. ‘No’ slow wae a dram, right enough. The game’s on, my freens.’

Watson the Fishery Officer and Marshall, the stony-faced Collector from Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise, sat opposite Sergeant Grant in Kinloch Police Office.

‘My information is that it’s to be today. Whatever they’re up to, that is,’ said Watson. ‘We have to strike while the iron’s hot, Duncan. I know this is difficult for you, under the circumstances, but the law is the law, and I’m sure you’re more than aware of the seriousness of all this.’

‘Difficult – why so?’ queried Marshall.

‘The sergeant here has a personal connection to Mr Hoynes . . . sir,’ replied Watson obsequiously.

‘The fact that I’m just about to marry Sandy Hoynes’ daughter makes absolutely no difference, Mr Watson. If a crime is being committed, my duty is clear. I’ll not flinch from it,’ said Grant.

‘And it better had remain that way, Sergeant,’ replied Marshall. ‘There’s a lot of interest in this case at Customs House in Glasgow. Make no mistake, everyone is taking this smuggling issue very seriously indeed. Careers may depend upon it. I hope I make myself clear?’ He raised his eyebrows for emphasis.

‘You needn’t worry about me,’ replied Watson. ‘I’ve been after Sandy Hoynes for a long time. I’ve never been able to pin anything on him – slippery as an eel – but we’ve got him this time. Dealing in octopuses now, would you believe.’

‘I’m less worried about the creatures of the deep and more about other matters,’ said Marshall.

Watson stood. ‘I have it on very good authority that Hoynes and his sidekick are meeting with someone today. A plot is on the go. This very afternoon.’

‘They are currently holed up in the Douglas Arms. I have one of my officers making discreet observations, as you requested, Mr Marshall. But I need to know more.’

‘If our information is correct, they are meeting people with access to a plane. We can only assume that this is with a view to transporting Plain British Spirit out of bond, illicitly, to another destination. We already know that this stuff has made its way to Ayrshire.’ Marshall looked the policeman in the eye. ‘This is where it ends.’

Grant thought for a moment or two. Did he suspect that his prospective father-in-law may not exactly adhere to the rulebook when it came to fishing? Yes. Did he think he was smuggling large quantities of illegal booze? No. He thought about Maggie, the wedding, and just how difficult this was likely to make their nuptials. He had no choice. ‘Of course, my resources are at your disposal. I’ve already talked to my chief constable about this, so Argyll Constabulary is ready to participate in any way you see fit.’

‘Excellent, Sergeant,’ replied Marshall, a gleam in his eye. ‘Now all we have to do is watch and wait.’

Hoynes and his first mate, followed by Geordie, sidled up to the bar and introduced themselves to the pilots.

‘They tell me you both served in the war. I’m privileged to say I did myself,’ said Hoynes, his chest swelling.

‘I was in Spits, but Bertie here was part of the lumbering squad.’ He winked at his colleague.

‘Lumbering, Ralph? Remember the parable of the tortoise and the hare, my friend,’ joked Bertie. ‘All very well for you chaps looping the loop and showing off with victory rolls. When it came to beating Jerry in his own backyard it was left to us.’

‘Touché.’

‘But things must be very different noo,’ remarked Hamish. ‘I mean that great beast you’re flying jeest noo – can you imagine whoot they Nazis wid have done wae such a contraption?’

‘Doesn’t bear thinking about. If Jerry had managed to get a march on us with jet fighters – and they damn nearly did – the war would have had a very different outcome,’ said Ralph, suddenly looking very serious.

Hoynes puffed at his pipe thoughtfully. ‘I’m a seafarer, as you know. Served wae the RNR as a petty officer. I’m no’ much good when it comes tae science, an’ that.’

‘Spit it out, Sandy,’ said Bertie. ‘Another dram?’

‘Och, I don’t mind if I do. Very kind, very kind, indeed.’

‘Me too,’ said Hamish, raising his glass.

As Bertie got the drinks in, Hoynes addressed Ralph. ‘I was wondering how come that aircraft of yours makes such a bloody racket?’

‘No magic to it. As we go past the sound barrier – the speed at which sound can travel – that barrier breaks on the nose of the crate. That’s putting it simply, of course. It’s a wonderful piece of engineering.’

‘It would be mair wonderful if they could shut it up a wee bit,’ observed Hamish.

The little group of drinkers savoured the first sips of their whisky before the conversation resumed.

‘So how long wid it take you to get to New York?’ asked Geordie. ‘I’ve got a cousin there I would love tae visit one day.’

‘From here? Oh, if we were going full tilt and given a decent wind we could be there in four hours,’ said Bertie.

‘Four hours tae New York?’ spluttered Hoynes. ‘It takes six hoors on the bus tae get tae Glesca!’

‘They’ll never fly it that fast with passengers, mind you,’ Bertie continued. ‘But our job is to test it to the limit.’

‘There’ll come a day when folk will be stayin’ here in Kinloch an’ working in America, or even Australia. It’s all mapped oot, if you care tae think aboot it,’ said Hamish.

‘You boys must be remarkable pilots, right enough.’ Hoynes tapped his pipe out in a glass ashtray. ‘I’m thinking there won’t be very many of you about?’

‘With supersonic experience? I should say not,’ replied Ralph. ‘A dozen, maybe fifteen.’

‘Are they all oot at the base at Machrie?’

‘No, not at all. I meant in the whole world. We’re a rare breed, aren’t we, Bertie?’

‘That we are.’

Hamish looked at Hoynes and winked. Rare breeds like these would be sadly missed – even if it was only for a short while. Time enough to attract the world’s attention to the plight of Kinloch’s herring fishermen.