Free Complete New Tales of Para Handy by Stuart Donald

wass the Captain!”
    F ACTNOTE
    The Minches, those stretches of water which separate the long arm of the Outer Hebrides from the Inner Hebrides and Mainland Scotland, can be unpredictable and stormy at almost any time of the year. Littered with islets and rock skerries they were a maritime graveyard for centuries, and despite the proliferation of light-houses and automatic lights as an aid to their safe navigation they still claim the occasional victim.
    The Treshnish are a group of tiny, uninhabited islands a few miles west of Mull. They cannot rival world-famous Staffa and the dramatic basalt columns of Fingal’s Cave closer inshore but their dramatic silhouettes do make an unforgettable sight. One, also known as the ‘Dutchman’s Cap’, has every appearance of the traditional ‘pirate’ hat made familiar to cinema-goers in all Hollywood manifestations from Treasure Island to Captain Blood. Only the skull-and-crossbones is lacking!
    Tiree has a wild beauty but is also notorious as the windiest place in Scotland: and the flattest island in the Hebrides. It is less remote today than in Para Handy’s time, with a regular vehicle ferry service from Oban and plane from Glasgow.
    Largely due to their lack of power, and a lack of ‘grip’ in the water caused by their hull shape, the puffers were notoriously unmanageable when riding ‘light’ in even a moderate wind and the problems faced by Para Handy as he attempts to round the Mull of Kintyre are based on the actual experience of a Ross & Marshall puffer in the 1950s.
    Off the west coast of South Africa the Atlantic swells running in from the Roaring Forties have been known to reach gigantic proportions in which a 10,000-ton ship can apparently, and frighteningly, ‘disappear’ with ease as she drops into the trough of the waves.
    At the height of the herring fishing on the Clyde there could be such a glut of landings that the shore stations were unable to cope with them. I never had experience of that but when we lived in Shetland I saw at first hand just how enormous herring landings could be, given the right circumstances. In the early days of purse-netting, Icelandic and Scandinavian boats brought in quite unbelievable catches. None more so than a Reykjavik purser which came in to Lerwick harbour with only the whaleback and the poop above water: her main deck was actually submerged with the weight of fish on board. When her skipper discovered that he could only sell the catch for fish meal and not on the more lucrative processing market (I cannot remember the legal details but such was the position at the time) he then actually tried to put to sea to sail his catch home — and had to be forcibly prevented from doing so by the harbour authorities!

8
    Macphail to the Rescue
    T he Vital Spark had never visited Loch Etive before, but Para Handy knew enough of the reputation of the fierce tide-rip in the shadow of the railway bridge at Connel to time his arrival at the narrows to coincide with the slack of the tide, when the otherwise steeply rushing waters lay relatively at peace.
    In this he succeeded: but nevertheless took the precaution of whistling down the speaking-tube to Dan Macphail in his noisy domain to ask for full power.
    â€œPower!” a contemptuous voice echoed back: “the day there’s ony power on this hooker Ah promise you’ll be the very first to know aboot it! It’s a miracle we’ve got this far but hoo the owner has the nerve tae send this tub ony-where ootside Garroch Heid is beyond me. Wan o’ these days we’ll jist no’ get back, she’ll peg oot on us and dee o’ auld age.”
    â€œChust so, Dan,” said the Captain in a placatory tone, “but I am certain you will see us safe home again —” and turning to the Mate who was standing at his side he whispered “— Dan’s in duvvelish bad trum this week!