Free Complete New Tales of Para Handy by Stuart Donald Page B

curious, some anxious and some just plain angry.
    â€œWhy don’t you chust tak’ them below to the salong,” suggested Para Handy, “and trate them to the wan wee refreshment. A man aalways feels mich better when he hass a gless o’ somethin’ in hiss hands! Macphail and me will have a look at your problem.
    â€œHe may not look much,” he confided as his Engineer disappeared in the direction of the engine-room at the stern, “but though I would neffer tell him to hiss face, in case it would make him swoll-headed, he iss wan o’ the very finest enchineers in the coastal tred!”
    So it seemed.
    Twenty minutes later came the gratifying sound of the shaft turning and, by dint of moving the passengers to the stern of the little boat (which was in deeper water) and calling for maximum power astern, Forbes was able to pull the grounded bows off the shoal onto which they had strayed, and the vessel was soon under way and headed for the pier at Loch Awe village, just beside the Hotel at which her passengers were staying.
    â€œYou and Mr Macphail can get the train from the village station back to Taynuilt, Captain Macfarlane,” said Forbes with some warmth. “And I am sure I do not know how to thank you enough. You have saved my reputation! And probably my ship as well!”
    â€œIt wis nae problem,” said Macphail, grudgingly. “Jist a broken linkage, and that on an injin gey like mah ain. Ah’ve telt your man whit went wrang so if it happens again, he should be able tae fix it. Else ye’d best look oot fur a new ingineer.”

    â€œWell, does that not make you feel better, Dan?” asked Para Handy as they sat in the Glasgow to Oban train for their short trip back to Taynuilt. “I am not referring to this ... ” he waved the crisp, white Bank of England £5 note pressed on them by the grateful Forbes “ ... but to the cheneral proof of your agility and your value. You have been in a foul mood for the last few days and we are aal most anxious to see you snep out of it!”
    â€œIf onything it mak’s me feel worse,” said Macphail miserably.
    â€œDan, Dan, what ails you?” asked the perplexed Captain. “We’ve been long enough at sea, Captain and Enchineer, that we should have no secrets.”
    Macphail sighed, long and deep.
    â€œIt wis yon spae-wife,” he said at last. “she wisnae wan o’ the usual rubbish ye get. She wis wan o’ the real Gipsy Rose Lees! She telt me the names o’ my wife and weans, she telt me the name o’ the shup, she telt me we wis comin’ tae Loch Etive for the setts.
    â€œWorst, she telt me she saw me on a puffer wi’ a broke-doon injin and an injineer no’ able tae fix it, and the shup herself goin’ on the rocks! Jist like whit happened tae that man this efternoon — but no’ on a passenger boat like yon, on a puffer she said. That has tae be the Vital Spark .
    â€œPeter, get anither injineer, at least till ye’re all safe back tae Gleska, for sure as daith if ye keep me on we’ll be agroond at the Connel tide-rip, or even a worse boneyerd, an’ the shup’ll be lost!”
    â€œYou’re a haver, Dan,” said the Captain, but taken aback by the Engineer’s unfeigned, vehement despair. “Spaewifes! They’re aal rubbish!”
    â€œNo’ all,” said Macphail, “No’ all of them.” And he turned with a heavy sigh to stare miserably across the passing countryside into the dying evening light.

    Para Handy came back to the corner table from the bar counter at the Taynuilt Inn, with four drams perched tantalisingly and precariously on a battered tin tray featuring the advertising slogan of a long-forgotten brand of chewing tobacco: a silver mountain of change from Captain Forbes’ five pound note: and a broad and quite triumphant grin.
    â€œDan,” he said,