by Ian Todd
“Christ!” Paul cursed, getting a disdainful look fae Bob and they black rubber gloves ae his.
“Do you know what these are, Paul?” Bob asked him.
“Big hooks?”
“Aye, I can see you’ve got a bright boy there, Innes,” Bob and his fingers said, chuckling.
“These are snatching hooks, laddie,” Innes said.
“So, whit’s the poles fur then?” Paul asked.
“Right, remember I told you that the salmon head up the river to spawn, but they have to get over the Falls first?”
“Aye.”
“Well, what we’re going to do is sit and watch them. When they knacker themselves out, we’ll be waiting by the pools to hook them,” Innes continued, demonstrating, by uncurling wan ae the ropes and shoving wan ae the poles oan tae the hollow end ae the hook.
Whit he ended up wae wis a shaft wae a big barbed hook oan the end wae a rope hinging oot ae it. Oan the end ae the rope there wis a wee loop that Innes put his haun through, grabbing up the slack ae the rope and pulling it tight.
“Right, laddie. When the salmon is knackered and can hardly move, Innes will spear the hook through the fish,” Bob murmured, as Innes demonstrated by jabbing an imaginary fish, letting go ae the pole.
When Paul went tae pick it up, Innes telt him tae ignore the pole.
“Don’t worry about the pole. The main thing is that Innes will have to concentrate on holding on to the rope, as the fish will be struggling to get away. He’ll need to draw it in. It’s not as easy as it sounds as they’re strong and it may take a few minutes,” Bob added.
“Because we’re working in amongst the pools, the pole will just float. It won’t go far. Once we get the fish on dry land, we just give him a wee slap on the head and start again,” a smiling Innes said, haudin up and wiggling his rabbit heid-slapper in front ae Paul.
“Unbelievable.”
“Aye, quite effective,” Bob and his fingers replied.
“Right, we can’t mess about…time is marching on. Bob, Whitey has put some fresh rabbit meat into my shoulder bag for you. Help yourself to it. I’ve already taken my torch out of it. Right, Paul, grab a hook and a pole,” he said and walked towards the door as Bob haunded him two rolled-up sacks.
They sat oan a rock overlooking a pool, jist doon fae the Falls, watching the salmon further up the river. It wis the maist beautiful thing Paul hid ever seen in his life. Even though it wis semi-dark, he could still make oot the broon colour ae the peat in amongst the white, foaming, swirling roar ae the gushing water. Every minute or so, a salmon wid emerge, as if it hid been shot oot ae a cannon, big tail swishing, propelling itsel high up in the air at the Falls. Some made it, while the majority wid disappear back intae the foaming white mass that they’d jist catapulted oot ae, a few seconds earlier.
“Are you ready?” Innes shouted in his ear.
“Aye.”
“Right, I’ll go first. Watch what I do.”
“Go fur it,” Paul shouted back, watching Innes make his way doon tae the edge ae the pool.
Innes stood fur a few minutes, getting a sense ae whit wis gaun oan, before suddenly letting fly wae the snatching hook. Nothing. He stood, knees crouching and let fly a second time. This time he let the pole go as he grabbed the rope wae baith hauns. The speared salmon leapt oot ae the water, ricocheting aff ae a boulder, before disappearing back intae the watery swirling mass. Paul watched Innes take the strain as the salmon bucked and pulled tae escape. Efter aboot two minutes, he saw Innes gieing it a skelp oan the napper, before taking oot the barbed hook and waving him doon tae staun beside him. He watched Innes take another four in quick succession.
“Right, remember what I showed you. Take your time, but hurry up as we haven’t got all night,” Innes shouted in his lug o’er the roar ae the water.
“Right, here goes,” Paul shouted back, stepping intae the pool.
Ten minutes later, efter being hooted and laughed at by Innes, Paul goat his first catch. The response wis instantaneous. If his haun hidnae been through the loop, he wid’ve lost it. Before he managed tae get his other haun oan tae the rope, the salmon hid pulled him forward oan tae his knees, before keeling him o’er intae the water, face doon. He hid difficulty staunin back up oan tae his feet as the stanes underneath his wellies wur slippery and the salmon wis hivving a hairy fit, trying tae get away. He heard Innes letting oot a ‘Yeehaah’ jist as he found his feet and started hauling in the fish. He couldnae believe the strength ae the salmon as he managed tae haul it oan tae the bank beside the other five that wur awready lying oan the grass, jist as Innes cracked it oan its skull.
“Innes, that wis fucking awesome, so it wis!” he screamed, as Innes laughed at him staunin there wae a big grin oan his coupon, water dripping aff his chin.
“Well, what are ye waiting for? A medal?” Innes shouted back, laughing, efter unhooking the salmon.
He got another wan before Innes motioned him up oan tae the side ae the embankment.
“Let’s go…we need to get back,” Innes shouted, as Paul slid his wellies back oan efter pouring aw the water oot ae them.
Paul couldnae remember how long they’d been doon oan the river, bit they wur soon back at Bob’s.
“Here you go, Bob,” Innes said, haunin him o’er a lovely big silvery salmon oot ae the sack he’d been carrying.
“Lovely. I’ll smoke that later today, Innes, and give Miss Macdonald, my retired primary school head teacher and neighbour, a wee bit for herself. She likes a wee bit of smoked salmon. Tell Whitey that I’ll think of her when I’m tucking into my rabbit stew.”
“Aye, I will do, Bob. Mind how you go. We’ll see you again soon,” Innes said, efter Bob hid greased the hooks, wrapped them back up and returned them tae their hiding place up oan the rafters in the barn.
“Nice tae meet ye, Bob.”
“You too, laddie,” Bob and the black rubber fingers replied, before disappearing back intae the croft.
Even though he wis soaking wet, Paul could still feel the dampness ae the three fish he carried in his sack, as they gently bumped aff his back wae each step.
“They’re heavy buggers,” he said.
“Aye, thirty pounders at least,” Innes replied, as the bagpipes started up again, wailing oot ‘The Flowers ae the Forest’ as they disappeared intae the trees.
Chapter Fourteen
Friday
Paul sat, wae his feet dangling o’er the side ae the wall oan the middle ae the humpbacked bridge that crossed the River Carron, looking o’er tae the church and the field surrounding it. Tae him, it looked like a scene oot ae a Robin Hood film. Two sides ae the field, at the far end, wur decked oot wae different sizes and colours ae tents. Every wan ae them hid an assortment ae flags and multi-coloured streamers flapping fae the tap ae them in the breeze. He could see that business looked brisk as none ae the tents hid sides oan them and he could see people coming and gaun, aimlessly wandering aboot. He could hear people clapping and cheering, as well as the tinny echoing voice, announcing whit wis gaun oan, coming fae the tannoy speakers that wur bouncing aw o’er the place at the tap ae whit looked like a telegraph pole. Tae his left, nearest tae the river, a huge marquee stood. Its three central peaks each hid a massive flag streaming atop ae them. In the middle, The Duke ae Kyle’s golden knight’s heid wae blue warriors shield and axe, oan a maroon coloured background, took centre-stage tae the St Andrew’s saltire oan its right and the Lion Rampant ae Scotland oan its left. Nearer tae him stood an empty boxing ring. He looked across tae his right towards the entrance gate ae the field. Masses ae adults and weans, were hurrying across the field towards it, jist as a pipe band turned right tae come in aff the road. He didnae recognise the tune bit they wur gieing it big laldy. It wis as if the pipes and the bass drum wur trying tae outdo each other, while the snare drums kept up the pace at the back. It reminded him ae the orange walk that used tae start aff fae Grafton Square in the Toonheid, back in Glesga, as they heided aff tae
the Kelvin Halls via a pit-stoap oan Blythewood Square. Behind the pipe band, an array ae different sizes and shapes ae lorries and a medley ae horse and carts, crept alang like a giant snake towards the field entrance fae the direction ae Ardgay. People oan tap ae them wur aw dressed up in costumes and wur waving at anywan who happened tae be looking back at them. He wondered where aw the people hid come fae. Before he left the croft that morning, he’d been sitting ootside wae Innes and Whitey looking at the vast expanse ae the Kyle spread oot in front ae them.
“It wasn’t always this empty, you know, laddie,” Innes hid said.
“Aye, ye said that when Ah first arrived. So, whit exactly happened aboot here then?” Paul hid asked him.
“Well, it had already been going on for a while in the Highlands, although it hadn’t affected the folk in the Kyle of Sutherland. It started off slowly enough. It must have been around about eighteen twenty, when the Laird of Novar, Hugh Munro, an ugly young greedy oaf, decided he wanted to expand his art collection, would you believe, and started to increase all the rents of his tenants here on the west side of the Kyle. As far as I’m led to believe in the stories passed down through the generations, all the rents were always paid on time and there hadn’t been any problem in the past. Now, the way to get money fast back then, was to fill the land full of sheep and get the wool shipped down to Inverness. Despite all the local tenants offering to pay him more in rent, Munro sent for Sheriff Macleod, who turned up with writs of removal to serve on the people. When the Sheriff arrived in Achnagat, with the East Ross-shire militia, all the tenants in the strath were on the lookout for him. When he arrived, all the women folk blew on whistles to alert the men to come to their aid. A fight broke out and one of the soldiers lifted up his rifle, took aim, and fired. One of the local women lay dead on the ground, shot through the heart. A riot broke out and Sheriff Macleod and the soldiers just managed to fight their way out of Achnagat back to the inn at Ardgay, four miles away. The fancy carriage he arrived in lay in bits. Meanwhile, the local minister at the time, the Reverend Alexander Macbean went around the district threatening everyone with eternal damnation if they didn’t do as they were told and accept God’s will. He reminded people that it had been bestowed upon the Sheriff to carry out the law in God’s name. The standoff lasted a week until the tenants were finally forced to give in. After all, who would be foolish enough to stand up against God and his disciples?”
“So, did everywan get the heave-ho then?”
“Most did. Six hundred men, women and bairns were sent packing. Of the six hundred, over a hundred were old folk, who were too old to walk far and had to be carried through the snow. From then on, no one was safe anywhere in the Highlands. Within twenty five years, the Glencalvie Estate had ran their tenants off. All the poor souls of the estate had gathered in Croick Churchyard, singing hymns and praying to the Reverend Macbean’s God to save them. They sat there for over a week and then, in the name of God, they were sent packing. If you go down to Croick Church, you can still see their names, ages and prayers scratched onto the windows of the church itself.”
“Nae wonder it’s quiet, if they goat shot ae six hundred people fae aboot here,” Paul hid quipped, looking aroond at the bare landscape.
“I hope you can swim,” a lassie’s voice said oot ae the blue, nearly sending him tumbling aff his perch intae the river below.
“Whit the fu...?”
“What was that? What were you about to say?” she demanded, staunin there, leaning oan the bridge, looking at him wae a quizzical look oan her face.
“Ah wis jist aboot tae say, that where Ah come fae, people wae your creeping skills usually either get a job in the polis or end up in clink,” he replied, looking her up and doon and no being offended by whit he saw.
“Clink? What does that mean?”
“The jail-hoose.”
“So, which job or occupation did you end up in then?” she asked wae a smile, no being offended by what she saw either.
“Neither, Ah’m an apprentice crofter,” he replied.
“A crofter?”
“Aye.”
“So, what’s an apprentice crofter then?”
“Er...somewan who’s learning how tae look efter sheep.”
“Look after sheep?”
“Aye, ye’re never lonely when ye’ve goat a wee sheep tae take care ae.”
“Take care of?” she asked, the quizzical look oan her coupon returning, her left eyebrow lifted up.
“Well, ye know whit Ah mean?”
“No, you better tell me, but try and keep it clean, eh?”
“Well, Ah’ve only jist started, so Ah’ve still tae get masel a decent pair ae wellies, bit...”
“Wellies? Sheep?”
“Aye, because when ye’re trudging up and doon they hills, chasing them aboot and ye’re oan yer tod...”
“Chasing sheep in your wellingtons, on your own, you say?”
“Aye, they’re slippery wee fuckers, bit wance ye get yer hauns oan wan...”
“Look, I would prefer if you stop right there. If you don’t, I’ll scream. The people down in the field will hear my cries,” she retorted in mock horror.
“Noo, whit wid ye want tae go and dae something like that fur? Ah’m no gonnae herm ye, fur Christ’s sake.”
“So, this sheep’s wool jumper I’m wearing won’t give you any ideas, given what you seem to get up to when you’re running about the hills, chasing a wee ewe then?” she asked wae a glint in her eye.
“Eh?”
“Nothing. My name’s Morven…Morven Gabriel, and I work up in the big house.”
“The big hoose?”
“Yes, Culrain Castle.”
He jumped aff ae the wall and faced her. She wis smaller than he wis…aboot five feet four. Her hair wis fair, or dirty blond, as his maw wid’ve put it. She looked aboot the same age as himsel. She’d a wee bit ae dark make-up oan her eyes, bit that wis it as far as he could tell. Alang wae the fair hair, she hid lovely pale blue eyes. Her eyes gied him the impression that they wur laughing at him, bit they complemented the broad smile oan her face. She wis wearing a red rolled neck jumper that clung, jist nicely, tae her body, highlighting a nice pair ae paps. She wis wearing dark blue corduroy troosers, tucked intae a pair ae black ankle boots.
“Ah wis jist heiding doon tae the field tae check oot the Gala. Ma name’s Paul, by the way…Paul McBride.”
“Where do you come from? That’s a strange accent,” she asked, walking backwards, away fae him, across the bridge in the direction ae the field.
“Ah’m fae Glesga.”
“Glesgie? Hmm, I did think it was west coast-ish. Oh well, I’m heading for the field as well. Do you want to walk down with me?” she called oot, moving further away.
“As long as ye don’t try tae bite me oan the way.”
“You’ve been spending too much time in the company of sheep, by the sounds of it,” she shouted back, laughing.
“Aye, Ah wis starting tae forget whit a wummin looked like until ye crept up oan me.”
“I never crept up on you. I thought you were about to jump off the bridge to commit suicide or something. I didn’t want to scare you,” she shouted, turning away, before disappearing aff the bridge at the far end.
“Aye, well, ma heart still hisnae slowed doon fae the fright ye gied me,” he shouted, running up behind her tae get aff the bridge before the car coming alang fae the direction ae the gala gates crossed o’er it.
“So, where are you apprenticing at crofting then?”
“Wester Achnahanat, aboot five miles back up the road.”
“Wester Achnahanat? That’s Innes and Whitey’s place, isn’t it?”
“Aye, dae ye know them?”
“Everyone knows everybody about here. You’re a bit old to be one of their lost boys.”
“Lost boys?”
“Yes, Innes and Whitey are well-known for looking after children who’ve had, er, problems and things.”
“Things?”
“You know, nervous breakdowns and that kind of stuff.”
“Ye mean loony tunes?”
“No, I don’t mean loony tunes,” she laughed, turning roond tae face him, walking backwards again.
“Somewan wae a slate missing then?”
“Why do you say that? Have you got a slate missing?”
“Hunners ae them.”
“Whitey and Innes are well-known about here for helping children who’ve had a terrible experience of some sort. They look after them until another home is found or sometimes they look after children for a while to give their parents a break. You’re the oldest one I’ve come across.”
“Whit makes ye think Ah’m wan ae them? Wan ae the…lost boys?”
“Because there’s no such a thing as an apprentice crofter as far as I’m aware and anyway, who cares? I don’t.”
He wis aboot tae reply tae her when a green Landy came speeding o’er the bridge and screeched tae halt beside them.
“Morven, jump in,” the son ae Mick McManus said, looking oot the driver’s windae, eyeing Paul up.
“Oh, hello, George. It’s okay, we’re just heading for the field. It’s only a short walk,” she replied.
“C’mon, jump in. You don’t know who’s lurking about these days,” Widow’s Peak-Heid replied, ignoring Paul.
“I’ll walk. This is Paul, by the way. He’s staying at Innes and Whitey’s. Paul, this is George, one of the estate keepers,” Morven said, looking fae wan tae the other.
“Oh aye, I heard that a loser boy…I mean, a lost boy…had arrived in the strath. It wouldn’t have been him that I chased the other day there, up in Balblair Wood on the estate now, would it?” he asked her, still ignoring Paul.
