Westering Home left the red marker over the wreck of the Hispania to port as she nosed through the Sound of Mull. Heeled over with the wind in her sails she scudded along at a brisk trot making for the line between Tobermory and Auliston Point where Charlie would turn her about to sail into the entrance to Loch Sunart. The sea beneath her keel was fairly placid, wave-lets pushed westward through the channel where the wind funnelled through the surrounding hills. Langhers had the wheel, Charlie sat on the cockpit coaming watching everything, feeling the boat through his backside and the wind against his face, translating both into a slight adjustment of the wheel and the trim of the sail to get the best out of her. Even when his head remained still, his bright owlish eyes never stopped, drifting randomly across the water, gathering information and processing it, at peace with himself. There was nothing out of the ordinary, a cluster of fast Rib’s skipped across the water, leaving a curved trail of white water as they rounded Calve Island in Tobermory Bay and headed for the Hispania, overtaking a larger boat steaming in the same direction. Charlie nodded to them. "Divers, heading for the red mark," he said, "It will be crowded down there to-day, the hard-boat is going for the same one."
"Does that happen often?" Kurt asked.
"Oh yes, the Hispania is a popular site, could be twelve or twenty divers on it this morning, most divers make it an early visit in their holiday. It gets comical sometimes, the RIBs will hang around and loitering until the hard boat drops its line. Then they'll move in, the hard boat skipper might not like it, it wouldn't be the first time somebody's tied up to his boat and left him stuck, waiting for them to finish their diving." The RIBs rumbled past a hundred yards to port and Westering Home rocked gently as the wakes ran under her hull. Charlie gave them a friendly wave and got an acknowledgement from each boat. Kurt repositioned the wheel, aiming the bow at the low shadow of Coll and Tiree on the horizon. He would hold the line until the brightly painted buildings lining the front at Tobermory came into view around Calve Island and then Charlie would take them helm and swing the boat around Auliston Point and into Loch Sunart. He lowered the sail and started up the small diesel, the steady chug of the motor accompanied them around the point and up the loch towards a mooring at Salen. "Do you dive Kurt?" Charlie asked, making light conversation.
"Done a bit, not seriously, Steel's the bloke for diving, been doing it for years."
"You don't know what you're missing lad, especially round here. Bloody good diving in these islands."
"You dive?"
"Yes, have done for a long time, got into it back in the old days, when I was working with Ben Urquhart on the Shetland Bus. Comes in useful when you get a fouled bottom, or fancy a bit of fresh seafood, there are some good sites for shellfish around here." Charlie chatted amiably. Langhers realised that Charlie was always more relaxed at the helm or on deck and enjoyed the shift in his temperament as they fell into comfortable conversation and the old man quizzed Langhers about life at the Grange working with the corporate clientele and they regaled each other with stories. The afternoon passed steadily, neither particularly concerned about the time it was taking to reach the rendezvous, not giving it much thought until Steel's text message bleeped and jolted Langhers back to the other reality. The brightness of the day began to fade, as the clouds rolled in and Charlie executed the turn into Loch Sunart, he nodded at the rocks on Auliston point. "Good scallop spot down there," he said, "what's the message, from your mate?"
"Yes, wants a sit-rep, probably curious about how long before we meet."
"Tell him two and a half hours," Charlie suggested. "That should give us plenty of time; we'll do it easily running under power."
Kurt sent the text reply and tucked the phone back into his pocket.
"Will he confirm your signal?" Charlie wondered.
"No, he tends to keep radio silence, Christ, its hard enough to get him to use the phone." Langhers retorted. Charlie laughed as Westering home motored on under bare poles.
Over an hour later Charlie tapped Langhers on the shoulder and pointed to the jetty where Steel and Josie stood by the Range Rover parked on the shore. He had checked the chart earlier and done his calculations and knowing there was not enough water under the keel for him to approach the jetty he picked a spot a hundred yards off. Charlie shifted the motor into reverse and slowed the boat. At his call Langhers dropped the anchor and she had just enough stern-way on to pull the hook in and hold her fast. Charlie rigged a stern anchor and dropped it in, winching the line tight and holding her steady. She wouldn't swing with the tide tonight. They busied themselves releasing the tender from its davit over the stern and Langhers waited on board while Charlie went ashore to meet Steel and Josie.
Steel caught the painter as Charlie fended the tender off the stone jetty and hitched the rope around an iron ring. Charlie stood in the small rubber boat and grinned. "Hello lass, how are you?"
"Fine Charlie, this is Steel, I don't think you've met him."
"'fraid I have lass, known him for a year or two, you been in the wars me old son?" He said.
"You might say that and no old jokes about seeing the other fellow. He got away unhurt, the first time, but I may have evened the score."
"Umm, wondered about all the fuss when we did our runner from Oban, lot of blue lights. Peelers all over the place, I thought somebody had upset the cart. What did you do, murder him."
"He shot him." Remarked Josie, tapping the lobe of her ear.
"Did you! Hope the bastard deserved it," Charlie remarked, "anyhow, we can discuss this later, are you two coming aboard, or do we stand here all day chatting?"
"We're coming aboard, if you don't mind, any chance of using Westering Home for a couple of days?"
"Does a duck swim?" Charlie grinned and wondered what kept the spark for adventure burning in some people. Steel began to unload the Range Rover and moving gear down to the edge of the jetty, from here Josie handed it to Charlie who stacked it in the tender until he said stop. Then he motored back to the ketch and transferred the load. Langhers bundled it below, stowing it in the forward cabin, which by assumption more than any other reason, Charlie had decided Steel and Josie would be sharing, not least because he and Kurt had got themselves settled in the aft cabin where it was handy for the cockpit. Charlie reckoned Steel needed as much rest as he could get and he wasn't in the best place to get it, but in the forward cabin he'd be disturbed less if something happened in the middle of the night. He returned and moved the second load out while Steel parked the car out of the way, but where it was still be visible from the boat. Westering Home would ride at anchor tonight, peaceful under a cloudy sky, unless it cleared up later and the stars came out. He locked the car and set the alarms and wandered back to the jetty. Charlie waited, with Josie already aboard and Steel climbed gingerly down into the boat, most of the time his wounds didn't bother him too much, but now and again, when he stretched the muscles that little bit further, the strain would tell and he would slow down. Measuring each movement as he made it. He settled on the tube of the tender and knew that the least they were going to get out of this was a wet arse. Steel untied the painter, leaving the rope threaded through the ring until he was settled, then pulled it in as Charlie eased the boat away and began to head back. Once they were aboard the ketch he left the tender on its painter, tied to a cleat on the deck rather than recover it and re-joining Langhers in the cockpit he left the others to settle into the cabin. The ammunition boxes went under the bunks in the aft cabin for now, they would be handier there than tucked away forward. There was a moment of absurd clarity when he re-emerged from the cabin having just completed stowing the boxes and stared across the loch at the quiet village with its cluster of boats and mooring buoys. The stillness of the scene under a soft blanket of grey cloud seemed so far from a situation where armaments would be needed for a resolution. Charlie's clarity lay in knowing that he had trained as a young man across these mountains and glens for dangerous years ahead. He had developed an attachment to the l
and that brought him back to sail the sea lochs and visit the islands whenever he could. He had laid out waterproofs and life-jackets in the cabin for Steel and Josie and was happy when they scrambled into them without any prompting. He left them alone for a while and returned to the cockpit where Langhers handed a 3-litre pump action Thermos and sandwiches up from the galley. Charlie chucked the chilly dregs of his last coffee over the side and refilled his mug. Two clean mugs, like the others, of badly chipped enamelled tin, clattered on to the deck and Langhers stayed below to unpack the additional provisions Josie had brought from the flat.
Steel appeared on deck to excuse himself from the group, pleading tiredness, wearing his jacket loose, but strapped at the waist. Charlie decided not to press the matter; it couldn't have been the most comfortable garment to wear given his present condition. At least he had the damn thing on. Josie was strapped in tight and fidgeted for a while until she had got everything inside settled in as comfortably as she could. He did wonder sometimes, why life-jacket manufacturers didn't accommodate the fuller female figure, or even just the well-developed one. Not that there was anything out of proportion about the young lady who settled herself on the cabin roof and beamed a high voltage smile at him when he handed her a mug of coffee and a pack of sandwiches. "Don't ask me what's in them, he's been clattering away down there for ages," Charlie said, "It was probably meat based at some time in the past."
"That's not a problem Charlie, after to-day I could eat anything I'm so hungry."
"Bit scary, eh?"
"Absolutely, I don't know what to make of it all." She voiced her feelings without condemning him and the wild mood swings that she had witnessed. So recently she would have accepted anything he said as reasonable, now, as the tiredness sapped her strength she saw only the clouds gathering. She knew he must have had a good reason and his words about recognising the voice and the smell were not ludicrous, but sound judgements, maybe flawed by his pain, but basically sound.
"What's whittling you lass?" Charlie's voice was quiet, he leaned on the cockpit coaming with his hands pushed into his trouser pockets, his hair whipped and tousled by the fits of wind skipping around the anchorage. The air had an edgy feel to it, as if undecided as to which way it would go, stirred up by the mixture of weather fronts crunching together around the islands. If the high pressure held it would be a fine night. Josie put down the mug and opened her sandwiches, talking as she unpacked the corned beef with mustard, peeling open the first one to check there wasn't anything too obnoxious inside. Despite her claim to eat anything there were limits. Her stomach rumbled as the smell of cooking lifted through the cabin vents. The sandwiches were for now; there would be something more substantial later. "I don't know how much of what I've seen is real. I thought I knew him, now I'm not so sure."
Charlie caught the look in her eye and held her gaze. "How well do you know yourself?"
"Myself, what's that got to do with it?" She frowned, her brow furrowing.
"Humour me, how well do you know yourself?"
She picked up the mug and took another bite out of her sandwich to give her time to collect her thoughts, chewing reflectively and then washed it down. She swallowed and said. "I like to think I know myself pretty well, yeah, pretty well, I'd say."
"So what you're saying is that there are probably things about yourself which you have yet to discover and they may be things which you don't like." Charlie answered; he watched her face as he spoke. The frown lessened and he saw she was running with his train of thought and she said. "If there are things about myself I have to learn and I may not like them, why am I surprised when this happens with someone else."
"Because we judge others differently to the way we judge ourselves. You can and will hurt yourself far more than anyone, because you know precisely where to strike to create the most pain."
"I'm not sure I see you're point?"
"You've seen something to-day, about a person who means a lot to you and he does doesn't he?"
"That goes without saying, I like him and he's a good friend, a very good friend."
"And more, so he's a very good friend, but you don't know him any less, what you've realised is that there is far more to him and you're a little bit scared about what you may find, you're nervous of the way things might go. On the one hand, what you discover may damage your friendship and that means so much to you, you're reluctant to face anything that may challenge it, but what he's been through will have altered his perspective. The changes in him are also going to affect your friendship and he may want to take things in one direction or another. You can't read his mind, not that you ever could, but it's a common fallacy, we never know enough to accurately predict how someone will respond to unusual circumstances. May I hazard a guess that what you saw to-day, you didn't like and the emotional reaction was to dislike it and to some degree him and by association, the part of you which likes him, took a dislike to itself."
"Are you trying to say that I am confused?"
"Precisely and I think you need to give yourself time and him, then when you've done that, then you can judge him. But hear him out first."
"If I dislike him, why do I just want to put my arms around him?"
"We are still talking about the very good friend here, aren't we?"
"Of course, I am fond of him, it sounds stupid, but in a funny way I love him, but I'm not in love with him, he's like a big brother, he's like that with everybody at the Grange."
"You don't really dislike him, or yourself, but he's hurting and you're hurting too, he's keeping everything at arm's length, people, emotions, every aspect of his life which has the potential to disrupt the fragile equilibrium he's trying to build. It's the first stage of a defensive wall that he's going to hide behind and the more he tries to push you aside, the stronger will be your urge to reach out to him, that's why, but he's going to hide."
"For how long?" Josie asked.
"How long is a piece of string," Charlie said, "I'm sorry, it's not much comfort, but that's the reality, how long could depend on what happens in the near future. There will be more unpleasantness before this is over. Temper yourself lass, we'll talk with him first, try and find out what happened, then we'll see."
"We may all have to face things about ourselves we don't like."
Kurt Langhers' voice was softer than she had ever heard it, but his words were clear. She hadn't even heard him come out, so preoccupied had she been with her own thoughts and her stare, straight ahead and unfocussed. "Silent running, that's what he calls it. Silent running. Imagine a submarine running at periscope depth, you know it's there, but all you can see is the wake of the periscope, the rest of it is locked away below," He said, "a simple picture, but an effective one."
She looked from Langhers to Charlie and back again. "So what do I; what do we do?"
"Keep an eye on the wake, no submarine can stay down for ever, when it disappears, that's when he needs us. When the periscope is down, he's on his way up." Langhers explained.
Charlie looked thoughtful, rubbing the growth on his chin with the palm of his hand. "You've seen it before?"
Langhers nodded. "Yes, long time ago."
Charlie sighed. "We can't do much for now, let him sleep, Kurt, keep an eye on the food. Josie, go and get your head down for an hour or so. Once we know the situation with the midges we can decide whether or not we can risk sitting out to eat, or if we have to retreat into the cabin."
Josie felt her body slump when he mentioned rest, she was pushing herself too hard and if she didn't look after herself the she'd be useless when the crunch came. Kurt smiled at her. "RFA Josie, RFA."
Her lips closed to a tight line, pushing her chin forward. She nodded. "Ready for action."
"Rested, Fed, Alert," he said, "now go, get some rest, then we'll sort out the others."
"OK, I get the message, get my head down, there's nothing else I can be doing for now. I suppose, if he wakes up I might be able to do something. He won't be
on his own."
"No, Josie," Langhers said, "it's more like get your head down you're knackered and you need the rest." She slid off the cabin top and picked her way forward, ducking into the cabin and closing the door behind her. Langhers turned to Charlie, who had gone to check the anchors. "I don't suppose you want another brew, do you?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, not for me or I'll spend all night pissing over the side."
"That could be a familiar feeling, but there doesn't seem to be much else for me to do. The stew's well on its way, I've turned the heat down so it shouldn't spoil."
"Turn it off, let it stand, we'll reheat it later, then take your own advice, the rest while you can."
Charlie watched him go below and then settled down to watch and wait. There was nothing to watch, but plenty to wait for; it was the not knowing that made it uneasy. He tucked himself into a corner of the cockpit and casually lifted the lid of the seat locker beside him. He let out a murmur of satisfaction when he spotted the red and yellow colouring of Paynes-Wessex tucked into allocated spaces. Flares, he thought, good to keep them handy, you really never know when you might want them, hopefully not tonight. The breeze from the west had strengthened and Westering Home pulled gently at her anchors. There was nothing to worry about, the two sand anchors slid deeper into the bottom and held. The cloud began to disperse, teased apart by high altitude winds. Charlie watched them for a while, studying the formations and relaxed a little, noting the unlikelihood of strong blow during the night. That could be something of a bugger really, if the breeze fell away completely then the midges would be out in force and the only option would be to dine indoors.
*****
Chapter Sixteen
Iceline Page 17
