Chapter 14
After they had walked a couple of
miles they sat down on a bank at the edge of the road for a rest. Victoriana
removed her shoes and rubbed her feet vigorously.
“They do feel a little sore,” she
admitted to Irving.
At that moment, a horse pulling a
cart with a few bales of straw on it came clopping smartly up the road behind
them. Irving sprang to his feet and stepped out in front of it.
“Hey, buddy, can ya give us a
ride?” He asked, startling the figure who had been lolling on his seat,
seemingly relying on the horse to find its own way.
“Mebbeasyerenoasassenach:whauryeboundthin?”
Asked the driver.
Rusty got out his translator box
and turned the little wheel.
“Mebbeasyerenoasassenach:whauryeboundthin?”
Said the box.
Irving grabbed it from him and
gave it a sharp smack on the side of the cart, then turned the little wheel
again.
“Aye, stranger, as ye’re no’ an
Englishman: pray, whither are ye bound?” It said, in a fluting Scottish accent.
“I’ve been modifying the speech
module a little,” admitted Rusty, “though it still needs a bit of work.”
Having been assured that the
carter was passing through Taynuilt on the way to his croft, they gratefully
accepted a lift and climbed up on top of the straw bales, and the cart resumed
its journey.
As they round wound around a hill
and a view of the coast opened up, Victoriana gave a little gasp of excitement.
“Look!” She cried, “a castle!”
The driver turned his head,
scowled and spat angrily at the ground.
“Aye,” fluted the box, “’tis the
lair o’ that rascally McHerring, divil take his black soul. Dunstaffnage Castle
was niver the same since he bought it. Folks around here believe the castle
tried to rid itself of him, there was terrible shakins an rumblins for mony a
month after, aye.”
“There seems to be a lot of
activity round it at the moment,” observed Rusty, “those look like soldiers to
me.”
“Mebbe they’s come to drag him
awa’,” said the box hopefully.
Indeed, there was a lot of
activity around the castle, with lorries and jeeps and even a small tank
clustered near the entrance, with groups of soldiers swarming about like ants.
“Dey’re not wearing skirts like
dem ones in da movies,” said Fingers.
“Kilts,” corrected Rusty
automatically. “I think they’re English, and I bet your Papa had them mobilised
to try to retrieve the Telectroscope, Victoriana. They must have tracked McHerring
down. Should we go down there?”
“Um,” Victoriana hesitated. “It’s
probably better if I spoke to Mama first. After all, we did disappear rather
suddenly.”
They all agreed it would be a
wiser course to postpone any reunion until the ground had been a little
prepared; they therefore elected to stick to the plan to spend the night in
Taynuilt and devise a way to contact Victoriana’s and Rusty’s parents in the
morning.
“But why do you not like Mr
McHerring?” Victoriana asked the carter.
“Ach, ‘tis a sorry tale,” said
that worthy, “and it goes back to when I was a wee lad living doon there on the
foreshore in the shadow of yon castle. My Da was a coral diver, and he used to
row out to the reef and dive down to collect the coral with his mates for to
sell to the shops awa’ in Glasgee: the rich folk loved the coral for the
decorations, ye ken, and ‘twould fetch a pretty price.”
“Nay, but ‘twas dangerous work, and
lives were lost in the gatherin’.” A large tear rolled down his cheek as he
spoke.
“But then, this Spanish gentleman,
who was holidaying in the area, was watching one day when the boat came ashore,
loaded with coral and the daid body of a diver. He was so moved by wit he saw…”
another tear rolled slowly down his cheek, “…that he awa’ and made a wooden
boat that could sail beneath the waves, and gather the coral. Aye,” he glared
at them defiantly, “’tis true, ‘tis true!”
“He means a submarine,” whispered
Rusty, “ it…it couldn’t have been Monturiol, could it?”
The carter thrust a boney arm at
him which bore a swirly tattoo of a dolphin amid the waves: as he flexed his
muscles, the fish appeared to swim through the sea.
“The whole crew had these, ev’ry
mon,” he said. “I was on’y a wee lad, but I was ta’en along to tend the engine whaur
there was no space for a mon.”
“’Twas a beautiful craft,” he said
dreamily, “carved of wood and polished to a shine. The first boat he made was
small, and he used a lot of old whisky barrels, but it still sailed like a
dream. We covered twenty five miles when we tested ‘un, though most of that was
in circles, as the fumes from the auld wood were quite strong,” he smiled in
reminiscence.
Abruptly a scowl darkened his
face.
“ Then along came that divil
McHerring, and offered to pay for the building of a proper boat, one big enough
to take on th’Atlantic and dive doon to the coral reefs.” He fell silent,
brooding on the past.
“And?” Prompted Rusty, “what
happened then?”
“Aye, well, he paid the money and
built the boat, and that was the last we saw of un. We heard he made a mint of
money selling un to the gov’ment, along wi’ the classy wee engine the Spanish
gentleman designed. Awa’ the Senor went, back to Spain brokenhearted, and niver
more did we hear o’ him.” He wiped his sleeve across his eyes.
“Well,” said Victoriana heatedly,
“what a rotter McHerring is. No wonder he thought nothing of stealing the
Telectroscope.’
They all agreed that McHerring
must be an absolute blackguard and should be brought to justice, if indeed he
succeeded in evading the army besieging his castle.
* * *
They were enveloped by the
gathering dusk as the cart rolled into the village and halted outside an
ancient inn.
“Ye’ll find board an’
lodgin’yonder, nae doot,” said the carter, waving away their expressions of
gratitude, “if ye’re no friends o’ the McHerring. Th’old wooden boat o’ yon
Spanish gentleman kept a lot of men occupied and woulda brocht wealth to these
parts: folks have long memories aroond here,” he glanced meaningfully at the
inn, whose sign creaked sadly in the breeze.
“But it’s the Stag’s Head,” said
Rusty in a puzzled manner.
“Och, aye, reetly so. A one-armed
feller name Perrott boucht the place a while back and renamed it. He didna seem
to care for the sea or anything aboot it.”
The carter gathered the reins up
and was about to urge the horse on again when he was struck by a thought. He
leaned over and spoke in Victoriana’s ear.
“Indeed, A thoucht a saw a sleek
wooden undersea vessel off the point by the castle a nicht or two since,” he
confided, “but t’was after closin’ time by then, ye ken.”
And with that he flicked the reins
and the horse and cart ambled off into the night.
“I think there is just enough fuel
in the translator box to allow us to negotiate with the landlord,” said Rusty,
giving it a little shake.
They trooped up to the inn and
were approaching the door when it was flung open and a group of soldiers
staggered out into the night on a billow of yells and laughter, leaving behind
a scene of carousing and jollity as if an entire army were occupying the
premises.
“Now then, lads,” said the box, as
the landlord, a big beefy cheerful fellow in an apron, followed them out and
turned them carefully in the right direction, “follow that lane and it’ll tak
ye back to the camp with yeer fellows.”
“’Scuse me, bud,” said Irving, “do
ya have any beds fer the night?”
The landlord turned and a
suspicious frown clouded his face.
“Ye’re no journalists, are ye?” He
asked.
“Why would we be joynalists?” Aked
Fingers in surprise, “we’s jus’ visitin’, erm, fer a sorta vacation.”
The landlord’s face lit up: he
rubbed his hands together gleefully.
“Tourists!” He exclaimed, “and
from America! Tis my lucky night. I bid ye welcome.”
“Why would we be journalists?”
Asked Victoriana.
“Did ye no see the excitement
around the castle? T’was hard to miss wi’ all they soldiers and things.”
“What
happened?” Asked Rusty eagerly.
“The lads inside” he jerked his
head over his shoulder “ are celebrating capturing a dangerous gang, it seems.
They have captured McHerring and his mob and locked him in the castle
dungeons…”
“And…and…Mulletchops,” interrupted
an inebriated soldier, appearing at his elbow. “ Don’t forget Mulletchops and
his crew, we gottem as well, an’, an’ they’re locked up in another dungeon
an’all. Funny thing is, the Captain don’t seem to be too happy, keeps muttering
about something called a telectromon…tetrectolol…trolectolly…”
“Telectroscope!” exclaimed
Victoriana.
“That’s it!” Agreed the soldier
triumphantly, “seems the Captain got a bo… got a bothering from the Major
because he couldn’t find it anywhere. It seems to have disappeared completely.”
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