Flight of the Grey Goose Page 17

  The torch clicked off and the Skipper’s voice came booming down. ‘Lost your tongue, ’ave you? Well, well, matey, I hopes as ’ow you enjoyed the beer. But by now your Auntie Nellie must be pretty empty!’

  The sound of pickaxe and crowbar started again above Smiler. There was nothing he could do but wait – wait impatiently until it was dark enough for him to risk moving out of the cave. It was all a question now of how long it would take the two men to break into the cave from above. Huddled against the cave wall Smiler told himself that the moment they did, even if it was light still, he was going to take a header into the water for the cave entrance.

  While Billy Morgan and the Chief Mate laboured on the clifftop in the fast fading light, sending rocks and boulders tumbling over the cliffside to make an entrance, Laura was working in the kitchen of the Mackay farm at the western end of the loch. She had the television on and was watching it while she did some ironing. She was all alone in the house. Her brother had gone off to spend the evening at his girl friend’s house at Lochailort, and her mother and father had motored into Mallaig to visit friends for the evening.

  The light in the kitchen was going but she did not switch on the lamps because there was enough glow from the television set to see to do the ironing. As she worked she was thinking about Smiler up at the castle and how he had discovered the Elphinstone jewels and of something that her father had said when she had told the family about it.

  ‘The Laird will give the lad a good reward, that is for certain. Let’s hope he makes something of it.’

  ‘And why should he not?’ Laura had asked stoutly.

  ‘Well, lass, I don’t know. But I get the feeling that there’s aye something a wee bit wrong with that lad. Turning up from nowhere and no sign of any kith or kin worrying about him. And don’t give me that saucy stubborn look of yours just because you fancy the colour of his bonnie blue eyes.’ The whole family had laughed and Laura had been unable to stop her blushes. Just for a moment she had wished she could have told them the truth about Sammy. Well, one day they would know.

  Just then the telephone rang. She went through the hall to answer it. It was a keeper called Angus Bam who lived over in the next valley south of the loch.

  ‘Is your father there, Laura?’

  ‘No, he’s away with Mother to Mallaig for the evening. There’s only me here. Can I help ye?’

  ‘Well, I thought ye ought to know. I was up on the tops a wee while back getting an old ewe of mine out of a peat hag she was stuck in. This’ll make the third time in a month – the beast is for ever in some trouble. There’s one spot up there I can just get a sight of the Laird’s place so I took a look through my glasses. My, but there’s a fair wave going on the loch just now –’

  Suddenly apprehensive, Laura said sharply, ‘Angus Bain, what are you trying to say?’

  ‘Well, I thought your father ought to know seein’ as he acts for the Laird. Is he no away to London, did I hear? That’s why I asked myself why should his flag be flying at the half-mast if he’s no up there? So, I thought your father ought to know –’

  ‘Thank you, Angus. I’ll take care of it. Thank you.’ Laura cut him off and put down the telephone.

  Her heart beating fast, she ran back into the kitchen, switched off the set and her iron, and then began to collect her oilskins. There had been no hesitation in her at all at what she must do. Sammy was up there all alone and the flag was at half-mast.

  A few minutes later she was down on the farm quay wearing gum boots, oilskin coat and hat. Behind her in the house she had left a note for her father. She filled up the outboard motor tank with petrol and as she did so cast a look up the loch. The light was almost gone. There was no wind going, but the whole of the loch was seething with long curling rollers setting eastwards towards the castle island. Usually the trip took about an hour, but with the set of waves and the current now with her, she guessed she could do it faster this evening.

  She spun the motor into life with the starting cord and swung away from the little stone quay. Once she was well out she realized that it was not going to be an easy trip. She had to regulate the speed so that the following rollers kept sweeping gently under the boat and not breaking over the stem. If she went too fast she took the crests of the rollers and plunged down into the troughs ahead, the bows dipping dangerously low and shipping water. More hurry, less speed, she told herself sensibly and settled down to navigate with care. But for all her care there were times when she could not avoid the boat taking water. Before she was far up the loch she had to have the baler out to keep the level of the water down. As she began to bale, the night came down and the wind returned.

  There was still no cloud and she could see well enough. But it was as though all the elements were now conspiring to stop her from getting to the island. The wind which had been a little south of west when it had died away now came back stronger than ever – and from due south. It came up in a shrieking, buffeting mass. It surged up over the heights of the loch south shore and then, full of turbulence from the barrier of the hills, howled down on to the loch in a confusion of air currents that fought and tangled with one another. One moment the wind was ahead, then astern, and then it came sweeping across her starboard beam making the boat yaw away. Within five minutes the long, rolling eastward set of the waves was gone and Laura found herself in a confused, heavy chop of waters that spouted high now against the bows, now over the stem and then smashing into the sides of the boat.

  Although she was frightened, she kept her head. She swung the boat over to the south side of the loch hoping to find calmer water there. If anything it was worse because there was more air turbulence right under the lee of the hills. She veered away to the north side of the loch and found the conditions there almost as bad. The force of the wind was so strong at times that it flattened the high tops of the angry waves and sometimes brought the boat up dead. Her left hand and arm stiff and sore from holding the tiller, Laura baled away at the water in the boat with her right hand. Since she knew there was a fair chance of the boat capsizing she kicked off her gum boots so that if she had to swim they would not hold her down.

  The curious thing was that, while she was frightened for herself, working the boat and baling mechanically, her real thoughts were always on the flag at half-mast and there was a misery in her that something had happened to Sammy. Not once did it occur to her to run the boat ashore and seek the haven of the lochside for her own safety. But in the end she was forced to do this because the level of the water shipped aboard began to rise faster than she could bale it out. With the boat sitting heavily and dangerously low in the water she sensibly worked into the north shore. She ran the boat up on to a spur of sand and, although the waves beat at the stern and slewed the boat sideways, she stood up to her thighs in water and baled until it was safe enough for her to take to the loch again. In the next two hours she did this three times. The exhaustion and fatigue made her body ache all over, but not once did she think of giving up. Always she had before her the picture of Sammy in trouble at the castle, lying there maybe dangerously injured orili…

  It was midnight when Laura at last rounded the point of the castle bay. The wind was still blowing strongly from the south but had dropped a little in the last ten minutes. She ran into the jetty and jumped out and tied up. There were no other boats at the jetty.

  She raced up to the castle and was met by Bacon, who barked a furious welcome. In the great hall Midas was asleep by the fire and made no move. Shouting his name Laura hurried up the stairs to Smiler’s room. The room was empty. She went all round the castle, in a fever of anxiety, looking for him. She searched all the castle with Bacon at her heels and then she took a torch from the kitchen and went through all the animal pens, the wild-fowl enclosure, and then through the woods behind the castle and finally out on to the cliff top. Here, Bacon suddenly raced ahead and led her to a great gaping hole in the side of the cliff where two heavy slabs of rock had been prised away.


  Laura leaned over the edge of the hole and shone her torch downwards. She saw the narrow ledge below and the heaving pool of cave water and she knew that this must be the place where Sammy had found the Elphinstone jewels. But there was no sign of Smiler there. On the ledge an empty beer can winked in the beam of her light.

  Exhausted and despairing Laura went wearily back to the castle and into the great hall. On the table where she had not noticed it before was a piece of red cloth which she at once recognized as the wrapping from the Elphinstone jewels.

  She ran across to the Laird’s study and looked in. Her heart sank as she saw the open door of the safe and knew that the silver and the jewels were no longer there.

  She went back into the hall and collapsed into the wing-backed chair and oddly into her mind came her father’s voice, saying, ‘… bnt I get the feeling that there’s aye something a wee bit wrong with that lad.’ Almost immediately she was furious with herself for thinking, even for a moment, that Sammy might have taken the jewels on his own account.

  Shivering and feeling sick with fatigue and apprehension, she dragged herself into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. Before she had half drunk it she rested her head and arms on the kitchen table and sank into a deep sleep. Against the fatigue and strain of the loch journey, and her worry and fears for Sammy, and the shock of the missing silver and jewels, her mind and body had no defence except to relapse into sleep.

  When Laura awoke it was still dark. Putting on her oilskins she went up to the great hall and out on to the terrace. The wind was still blowing a full gale from the south and with it now came solid sheets of rain. The terrace was awash and every spout and gutter of the castle was noisy with the rush of rainwater. Using her torch Laura made another inspection of the surroundings of the castle, but in her heart she knew that she was wasting her time. If Sammy had been on the island she was sure that she would have found him by now. Always at the back of her mind was the thought of the Laird’s rowing boat which was missing from its jetty moorings.

  She came back and searched the castle once more and then, as the dawn came up, though it brought no cessation of the gale and the rain, the she made another inspection of the island. Coming back she saw that there was no food or water for the animals in their pens and one look at Mrs Brown told her that the cow had not been milked for more than twenty-four hours. To give herself something to do which would take her mind off her thoughts, she watered and fed the animals and then milked Mrs Brown. Wherever she went Bacon went with her, full of restlessness and whining to himself now and then.

  When the daylight had strengthened more she went down through the driving rain and wind to make sure that her boat was still safely moored at the jetty. It was filling with water from the rain and the wave spray that burst over it. She went aboard and baled it out. As she did so she was wondering what she should do next. With the weather as it was she was in no mood to risk the boat trip back to the farm. Last night’s experience had been enough for her. Anyway, her parents would know from her note where she had gone. Looking up she saw the castle flag still flapping stiffly in the wind at half-mast. When she went up she decided she would hoist it right up.

  Her eyes coming back from the flag, she looked out across the bay towards the Hen and Chickens. She could only just make them out through the driving veils of rain. Now and again the thicker squalls blotted them out altogether. Then, just at the mouth of the bay, she saw something rising and falling sluggishly in the angry surging and rolling waves. A large roller suddenly took the object and swept it upwards and then burst right over it. In that moment of time Laura caught the flash of black and white paint.

  She dropped the baler and snatched the canvas cover off the outboard motor. It took her some time to start the engine, but fifteen minutes later she was motoring across the choppy bay and ran alongside the object. It was the Laird’s rowing boat, floating the right side up – but filled to the gunwales with water. The boat was empty and one side of the centre thwart had been smashed clean in half. She circled round it and then headed back for the jetty. As she went her eyes were blinded more by tears than rain and she was praying to herself that Sammy had never been fool enough – no matter what the reason – to risk putting off in the boat while the gale had been blowing. The moment he was outside the bay he would have been helpless.

  But this was exactly what Smiler had done because he had been given no choice. He had clung to the security of the cave while the Skipper and the Chief Mate had worked at enlarging the hole in the roof. It had taken them a long time and while they had worked the darkness had fallen and the gale had come back, stronger than ever, from the south.

  In the end Smiler had hoisted on the heavy rucksack and taken to the water. He had dived out through the entrance. Clinging as close as the breaking waves would allow him to the foot of the cliffs he had swum along them towards the bay, helped by the strong current that still set that way.

  Ten minutes after he had gone, Billy Morgan had widened the hole in the cliff enough to allow him to get his head and shoulders through and shine the torch around the cave. It had been empty.

  Billy Morgan and the Chief Mate had run np to the jetty to check the boats. They had found the rowing boat gone and the fastening loop of the chain hanging still intact over the side of their own boat.

  It was at this moment that Smiler in the rowing boat, half a mile eastward down the loch, had run into disaster. The short plank length he was using for an oar was completely useless and he was drifting helplessly in the wild sea. A wave had taken the boat beam side on, swung it high and capsized it. Smiler, heavy rucksack still on his back, had been thrown into the loch. The boat had rolled right over above him and the keel had struck him on the forehead. He had gone down conscious only of a blinding pain in his head.

  11. Destination Still Unknown

  The bad weather eased a bit as the morning wore on, and just after ten o’clock Laura’s father and her brother arrived at the castle in a stout motor boat which they had borrowed from a neighbour. Both were very relieved to find Laura safe and sound. But that did not stop her from getting a scolding from her father for going off in the boat on her own in such bad weather. However, there was little edge to his scolding because he was so relieved to find her safe.

  Laura told them all she knew and took them to see the hole in the cave top and then the Laird’s rowing boat which had finally drifted ashore in the bay close to the wild-fowl pens.

  The two men hauled the boat out on to the beach and tipped the water from it.

  Jock Mackay examined the smashed centre thwart and said reflectively, ‘Something gave that an almighty crack… Aye, a real smack that got…’

  Laura turned away. She couldn’t stand the sight of the boat She might have been happier if she could have known that it was Smiler who had cracked the thwart in half. He had done it with a large rock picked up from the beach in order to slip the chain loop free from the boat.

  Jock Mackay turned, put his arm around his daughter, and said, ‘You’d better be coming back with us, lass. The Laird’s due back tomorrow. He phoned late last night. There’s nothing to be done up here now. If the lad went overboard in last night’s weather then –’

  Laura pulled away from him and ran up to the castle, her hands over her face.

  As Jock made to move after her, his son stopped him, saying, ‘Leave hera while, Father …’

  When they did go up to the castle, they found Laura in the great hall, and it was a Laura who had now recovered her self-composure.

  She said, ‘You two go back and bring the Laird up tomorrow. I’m going to stay here. There’s all the animals to be looked after and the place is in a mess. And I can tell by looking round that there’s been more than Sammy up here recently. The police should know about it as quick as possible.’

  ‘You don’t think the lad went off on his own account with the silver and stuff?’ asked her father.

  ‘Of course I don’t! Sammy�
��s no thief! He must have gone off with it to keep it safe from whoever was here. Clearly someone else has been eating in that kitchen. And why would Sammy use a pickaxe and crowbar to open up the cliff top? The sooner you get back and tell the police about this the better. I’ll be all right up here. And what’s more, I don’t think … well, I’m sure Sammy’s all right somewhere. He’s got to be.’ But although she said it stoutly there was a dark shadow of doubt hovering always at the back of her mind.

  Laura’s brother said, ‘Maybe, Father, before we go back we ought to motor round the Hen and Chickens. If the lad put out last night from the bay, the current would take him down that way. If he went overboard he might have made them.’

  So before the two men headed west down the loch, they took the boat up to the Hen and Chickens and motored round them all. The strong seas were smashing against their low rock sides and sweeping up their small beaches. Nothing grew on them except some small patches of heather, some sea-holly, and tufts of pink thrift. While his son managed the tiller Jock Mackay got out his field glasses and scanned each little island as they circled it. But he could see no sign of Smiler. The only life on the islands was the roosting flocks of seabirds.

  The two men went twice around all the islets and then turned away and made their way back down the loch.

  But the two men, as men often do, were accepting something as fact on the basis of their own experience. Both knew the loch and they were sure that anyone going overboard in the previous night’s weather would have had no chance. If they had gone ashore and searched each islet thoroughly they would have learned better, learned that there is always some odd quirk of fate to upset apparent facts and well-proven experience.

  Smiler was on the Hen and alive. In the darkness it was a large underwater rock just off the small beach of the Hen that the craft had struck. Smiler had gone overboard and had been hit by the turning keel. The blow had dazed him so much that he did not know what he was doing or what was happening to him. He had gone down and then been sucked up by the maelstrom of waves and thrown towards the beach. When his hands had felt rocks and shingle he had instinctively grappled for a hold. Like some blind, unknowing animal he had crawled forward. A wave had sucked him back from his hold and then another had thrown him forward to the beach. On his hands and knees, bowed down by the weight of the rucksack, he had struggled forward and finally had escaped the reach of the waves. Not knowing what he was doing he had crawled on, panting and sobbing, with nothing to guide him except his powerful instinct to get away from the water.