After lunch we strolled round the fish-table, a sort of subsidiary pier on which the fish are auctioned, and listened to the excited conversations of the fish-curers, gutters, and fishermen. It was a veritable babel the mournful intonation of the East Coast, the broad guttural of the Broomielaw, mingled with the shrill Gaelic scream of the Highlands, and the occasional twang of the cockney tourist. Having retrieved Sholto, who was inspecting some fish which had been laid out to dry in the middle of the village street, and packed him safely in the bows, we set out to sea, Myra at the engine, while I took the tiller. As we glided out of the harbour I turned round, impelled by some unknown instinct. The parsons dog was standing at the head of the main pier, seeing us safely off the premises, and beside him was the tall figure of my friend J. G. Hilderman. As I looked up at him I wondered if he recognised me; but it was evident he did, for he raised his cap and waved to me. I returned the compliment as well as I could, for just then Myra turned and implored me not to run into the lighthouse.
Someone you know? she asked, as I righted our course.
Only a chap I met on the train, I explained.
It looks like the tenant of Glasnabinnie, but I couldnt be certain. Ive never met him, and Ive only seen him once.
Glasnabinnie! I exclaimed, with a new interest. Really! Why, thats quite close to you, surely?
Just the other side of the loch, directly opposite us. A good swimmer could swim across, but a motor would take days to go round. So were really a long way off, and unless he turns up at some local function were not likely to meet him. Hes said to be an American millionaire; but then every American in these parts is supposed to have at least one million of money.
Do you know anything about him what he does, or did? I asked.
Absolutely nothing, she replied, except, of course, the silly rumours that one always hears about strangers. He took Glasnabinnie in May in fact, the last week of April, I believe. That rather surprised us, because it was very early for summer visitors. But he showed his good sense in doing so, as the country was looking gorgeous Sgriol, na Ciche, and the Cuchulins under snow. Ive heard (Angus McGeochan, one of our crofters, told me) he was an inventor, and had made a few odd millions out of a machine for sticking labels on canned meat. That and the fact that he is a very keen amateur photographer is the complete history of Mr. Hilderman so far as I know it. Anyway, he has a gorgeous view, hasnt he? Its nearly as good as ours.
He has indeed, I agreed readily. But I dont think Hilderman can be very wealthy; no fishing goes with Glasnabinnie, theres no yacht anchorage, and theres no road to motor on. How does he get about?
Hes got a beautiful Wolseley launch, said Myra jealously, a perfect beauty. He calls her the Baltimore II. She was lying alongside the Hermione at Mallaig when we left. Oh! look up the loch, Ron! Isnt it a wonderful view?
And so the magnificent purple-gray summit of Sgor na Ciche, at the head of Loch Nevis, claimed our attention (that and other matters of a personal nature) and J. G. Hilderman went completely from our minds. Myra was a real Highlander of the West. She lived for its mountains and lochs, its rivers and burns, its magnificent coast and its fascinating animal life. She knew every little creek and inlet, every rock and shallow, every reef and current from Fort William to the Gair Loch. I have even heard it said that when she was twelve she could draw an accurate outline of Benbecula and North Uist, a feat that would be a great deal beyond the vast majority of grown-ups living on those islands themselves. As we turned to cross the head of Loch Hourn, Myra pointed out Glasnabinnie, nestling like a lump of grey lichen at the foot of the Croulin Burn. Anchored off the point was a small steam yacht, either a converted drifter or built on drifter lines.
Our friend has visitors, said Myra, and hes not there to receive them. How very rude! That yacht is often there. She only makes about eight knots as a rule, although she gives you the impression she could do more. You see, shes been built for strength and comfort more than for looks. She calls at Glasnabinnie in the afternoons sometimes, and is there after dark, and sails off before six. (Myra was always out of doors before six in the morning, whatever the weather.) From which I gather, she continued, that the owner lives some distance away and sleeps on board. She cant be continuously cruising, or she would make a longer stay sometimes.
You seem to know the ways of yacht-owners, dear, I said. Hullo! what is that hut on the cliff above the falls? Thats new, surely.
Oh! that beastly thing, said Myra in disgust. Thats his, too. A smoking-room and study, I believe. He had it built there because he has an uninterrupted view that sweeps the sea.
Why beastly thing? I asked. Its too far away to worry you, though it isnt exactly pretty, and I know you hate to see anything in the shape of a new building going up.
Oh! it annoys me, she answered airily, and somehow it gets on daddys nerves. You see, it has a funny sort of window which goes all round the top of the hut. This is evidently divided into several small windows, because they swing about in the wind, and when the sun shines on them they catch the eye even at our distance. And, as I say, they get on daddys nerves, which have not been too good the last week or two.
Never mind, I consoled her; hell be all right when his friends come up for the Twelfth. I think the doctors are wrong to say that he should never have a lot of people hanging round him, because there can surely be no harm in letting him see a few friends. I certainly think hes right to make an exception for the grouse.
Grouse! sniffed Myra. They come for the Twelfth because they like to be seen travelling north on the eleventh! And I have to entertain them. And some of the ones who come for the first time tell me they suppose I know all the pretty walks round about! And in any case, she finished, in high indignation, can you imagine me entertaining anybody?
Yes, my dear, I can, I replied; and the argument kept us busy till we reached Invermalluch. The old General came down to the landing-stage to meet us, and was much more honestly pleased to see me than I had ever known him before.
Ah! Ronald, my boy! he exclaimed heartily. Pon my soul, Im glad to see you. Its true, I suppose? Youve heard the news?
The question amused me, because it was so typical of the old fellow. Here had I come from London, where the Cabinet was sitting night and day, to a spot miles from the railway terminus, to be asked if I had heard the news!
You mean the war, of course? I replied.
Yes; its come, my boy, at last. Come to find me on the shelf! Ah, well! It had to come sooner or later, and now were not ready. Ah, well, we must all do what we can. Begad, Im glad to see you, my boy, thundering glad. Its a bit lonely here sometimes for the little woman, you know; but she never complains. (In point of fact, she even contrived to laugh, and take her fathers arm affectionately in hers.) And besides, there are many things I want to have a talk with you about, Ronald many things. By the way, had lunch?
We lunched at Mallaig, thank you, sir, I explained.
Well, well, Myra will see you get all you want wont you, girlie? he said.
We lunched at Mallaig, thank you, sir, I explained.
Well, well, Myra will see you get all you want wont you, girlie? he said.
I say, Ronnie, Myra asked, as we reached the house, are you very tired after your journey, or shall we have a cup of tea and then take our rods for an hour or so?
I stoutly declared I was not the least tired as who could have been in the circumstances? and I should enjoy an hours fishing with Myra immensely. So I ran upstairs and had a bath, and changed, and came down to find the General waiting for me. Myra had disappeared into the kitchen regions to give first-aid to a bare-legged crofter laddie who had cut his foot on a broken bottle.
Well, my boy, said the old man, youve come to tell us something. What is it?
Oh! I replied, as lightly as I could, it is simply that we are in for a row with Germany, and Ive got a part in the play, so to speak. Im enlisting.
Good boy, he chuckled, good boy! Applying for a commission, I suppose man of your class and education, and all that eh?
Oh, heavens, no! I laughed. I shall just walk on with the crowd, to continue the simile.
Glad to hear it, my boy I am, indeed. Pon my soul, youre a good lad, you know quite a good lad. Your father would have been proud of you. He was a splendid fellow a thundering splendid fellow. We always used to say, You can always trust Ewart to do the straight, clean thing; hes a gentleman. I hope your comrades will say the same of you, my boy.
By the way, sir, I added, I also intended to tell you that in the circumstances I I Well, I mean to say that I shant shant expect Myra to consider herself under under any obligations to me.
However difficult it was for me to say it, I had been quite certain that the old General would think it was the right thing to say, and would be genuinely grateful to me for saying it off my own bat without any prompting from him. So I was quite unprepared for the outburst that followed.
You silly young fellow! he cried. Pon my soul, you are a silly young chap, you know. Dyou mean to tell me you came here intending to tell my little girl to forget all about you just when you are going off to fight for your country, and may never come back? You mean to run away and leave her alone with an old crock of a father? You know, Ewart, you you make me angry at times.
Im very sorry, sir, I apologised, though I had no recollection of having made him angry before.
Oh! I know, he said, in a calmer tone. Felt it was your duty, and all that eh? I know. But, you see, its not your duty at all. No. Now, there are one or two things I want to tell you that you dont know, and Ill tell you one of em now and the rest later. The first thing in absolute confidence, of course is that
But at this point Myra walked in, and the General broke off into an incoherent mutter. He was a poor diplomatist.
Ah! secrets? Naughty! she exclaimed laughingly. Are you ready, Ronnie?
Hes quite ready, my dear, said the old man graciously. Ive said all I want to say to him for the time being. Run along with girlie, Ewart. You dont want to mess about with an old crock.
Daddy, said Myra reproachfully, youre not to call yourself names.
All right, then; I wont, he laughed. You young people will excuse me, Im sure. I should like to join you; but I have a lot of letters to write, and I daresay youd rather be by yourselves. Eh? you young dog!
It was a polite fiction between father and daughter that when the old fellow felt too unwell to join her or his guests he had a lot of letters to write. And occasionally, when he was in the mood to overtax his strength, she would never refer to it directly, but often she would remark, You know youll miss the post, daddy. And they both understood. So we set out by ourselves, and I naturally preferred to be alone with Myra, much as I liked her father. We went out on to the verandah, and while I unpacked my kit Myra rewound her line, which had been drying on the pegs overnight.
Are you content with small mercies, Ron? she asked, or do you agree that it is better to try for a salmon than catch a trout?
It certainly isnt better to-day, anyway, I answered. I want to be near you, darling. I dont want the distance of the pools between us. We might walk up to the Dead Mans Pool, and then fish up stream; and later fish the loch from the boat. That would bring us back in nice time for dinner.
Oh! splendid! she cried; and we fished out our fly-books. Hers was a big book of tattered pig-skin, which reclined at the bottom of the capacious poachers pocket in her jacket. The fly-book was an old favourite she wouldnt have parted with it for worlds. Having followed her advice, and changed the Orange I had tied for the bob to a Peacock Zulu, which I borrowed from her, we set out.
Just above the Dead Mans Pool you get a beautiful view of Hildermans hideous hut, Myra declared as we walked along. I may explain here that Dead Mans Pool is an English translation of the Gaelic name, which I dare not inflict on the reader.
See? she cried, as we climbed the rock looking down on the gorgeous salmon pool, with its cool, inviting depths and its subtle promise of sport. Oh! Ronnie, isnt it wonderful? she cried. Almost every day of my life I have admired this view, and I love it more and more every time I see it. I sometimes think Id rather give up my life than the simple power to gaze at the mountains and the sea.
Why, look! I exclaimed. Is that the window you meant?
Yes, Myra replied, with an air of annoyance, thats it. You can see that light when the sun shines on it, which is nearly all day, and it keeps on reminding us that we have a neighbour, although the loch is between us. Besides, for some extraordinary reason it gets on fathers nerves. Poor old daddy!
It may seem strange to the reader that anyone should take notice of the suns reflection on a window two and a quarter miles away; but it must be remembered that all her life Myra had been accustomed to the undisputed possession of an unbroken view.
Anyhow, she added, as she turned away, we came here to fish. One of us must cross the stream here and fish that side. We cant cross higher up, theres too much water, and theres no point in getting wet. Ill go, and you fish this side; and when we reach the loch well get into the boat. See, Sholtos across already.
And she tripped lightly from boulder to boulder across the top of the fall which steams into the Dead Mans Pool, while I stood and admired her agile sureness of foot as one admires the graceful movements of a beautiful young roe. Sholto was pawing about in a tiny backwater, and trying to swallow the bubbles he made, until he saw his beloved mistress was intent on the serious business of fishing, and then he climbed lazily to the top of a rock, where he could keep a watchful eye on her, and sprawled himself out in the sun. I have fished better water than the Malluch river, certainly, and killed bigger fish in other lochs than the beautiful mountain tarn above Invermalluch Lodge; but I have never had a more enjoyable days sport than the least satisfying of my many days there.
There was a delightful informality about the sport at the Lodge. One fished in all weathers because one wanted to fish, and varied ones methods and destination according to the day. There was no sign of that hideous custom of doing the thing properly that the members of a stockbrokers house-party seem to enjoy no drawing lots for reaches or pools overnight, no roping-in a gillie to add to the chance of sending a basket south. When there was a superfluity of fish the crofters and tenants were supplied first, and then anything that was left over was sent to friends in London and elsewhere. At the end of the days sport we went home happy and pleased with ourselves, not in the least depressed if we had drawn a blank, to jolly and delightful meals, without any formality at all. And if we were wet, there was a great drying-room off the kitchen premises where our clothes were dried by a housemaid who really understood the business. As for our tackle, we dried our own lines and pegged them under the verandah, and rewound them again in the morning, made up our own casts, and generally did everything for ourselves without a retinue of attendants. And thereby we enjoyed ourselves hugely.