Читать книгу In Highland Harbours with Para Handy - Munro Neil - Страница 5

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One night when the Vital Spark lay at Port Ellen quay, and all the crew were up the village at a shinty concert, some one got on board the vessel and stole her best chronometer. It was the property of Macphail, had cost-exactly 1s. 11d., and kept approximate time for hours on end if laid upon its side. Macphail at frequent intervals repaired it with pieces of lemonade wire, the selvedges of postage stamps, and a tube of seccotine.

"Holy smoke!" said the Captain, when the loss was discovered; "we'll be sleepin' in in the efternoons as sure as anything. Isn't this the depredation!"

"The champion wee nock!" said Macphail, on the verge of tears. "Set it to the time fornenst yon nock o' Singerses at Kilbowie, and it would tick as nate as onything to the Cloch."

"Right enough!" said Sunny Jim impressively;

"I've biled eggs wi't. There's the very nail it hung on!"

"It's the first time I ever knew that nock to go without Macphail doin' something to it wi' the stroup o' an oil-can," said Dougie.

It was decided that no more risks of quay-head burglary were to be run, and that when evening entertainments called the rest of the crew ashore, the charge of the ship should depend on Sunny Jim.

"I couldna tak' it in haund, chaps!" he protested feelingly. "Ye've nae idea hoo silly I am at nicht when I'm my lane; I cod mysel' I'm seein' ghosts till every hair on my heid's on end."

"I'm like that mysel'!" confessed Para Handy. "I can gie mysel' a duvvle o' a fright, but it's only nonsense, chust fair nonsense! there's no' a ghost this side o' the Sound o' Sleat; nothing but imagination."

"Ye shouldna be tumid!" counselled Dougie, who never could stay in the fo'c'sle alone at night himself for fear of spirits.

"Ye'll can play your melodeon," said Macphail; "if there's onything to scare the life oot o' ghosts it's that."

But Sunny Jim was not to be induced to run the risk, and the Captain wasn't the sort of man to compel a body to do a thing he didn't like to do, against his will. Evening entertainments at the ports of call were on the point of being regretfully foresworn, when Sunny Jim proposed the purchase of a watch-dog. "A watch-dug's the very ticket," he exclaimed. "It's an awfu' cheery thing on a boat. We can gie't the rin o' the deck when we're ashore at nicht, and naebody'll come near't. I ken the very dug--it belangs to a chap in Fairfield, a rale Pompanion, and he ca's it Biler. It has a pedigree and a brass-mounted collar, and a' its P's and Q's."

"Faith! there's worse things than a good dog; there's some o' them chust sublime!" said Para Handy, quite enamoured of the notion. "Iss it well trained, your frien's Pompanion?"

"Top!" Sunny Jim assured him. "If ye jist seen it! It would face a regiment o' sodgers, and has a bark ye could hear from here to Campbeltown. It's no awfu' fancy-lookin', mind; it's no' the kind ye'll see the women carryin' doon Buchanan Street in their oxters; but if ye want sagaciosity----!" and Sunny Jim held up his hands in speechless admiration of the animal's intelligence. "It belangs to a riveter ca'd Willie Stevenson, and it's jist a pup. There's only the wan fau't wi't, or Willie could live aff the prizes it wad lift at shows--it's deaf."

"That's the very sort o' dug we wad need for a boat like this," said Macphail, with his usual cynicism. "Could ye no' get yin that was blin' too?" But nobody paid any attention to him; there were moments when silent contempt was the obvious attitude to the engineer.

"The worst about a fine, fine dog like that," said Para Handy reflectively, "iss that it would cost a lot o' money, and aal we want iss a dog to watch the boat and bark daily or hourly ass required."

"Cost!" retorted Sunny Jim; "it wad cost nae-thing! I wad ask Willie Stevenson for the len' o't, and then say we lost it ower the side. It has far mair sense than Willie himsel'. It goes aboot Govan wi' him on pay Setturdays, and sleeps between his feet when he's sittin' in the public-hooses backin' up the Celts. Sometimes Willie forget's it's wi' him, and gangs awa' without waukenin' 't, but when Biler waukens up and sees its maister's no there, it stands on its hind legs and looks at the gless that Willie was drinkin' frae. If there's ony drink left in't it kens he'll be back, and it waits for him."

"Capital!" said Para Handy. "There's dogs like that. It's born in them. It's chust a gift!"

The dog Biler was duly borrowed by Sunny Jim on the next run to Glasgow, and formally installed as watch of the Vital Spark. It was distinctly not the sort of dog to make a lady's pet; its lines were generously large, but crude and erratic; its coat was hopelessly unkempt and ragged, its head incredibly massive, and its face undeniably villainous. Even Sunny Jim was apologetic when he produced it on a chain. "Mind, I never said he was onything awfu' fancy," he pleaded. "But he's a dug that grows on ye."

"He's no' like what I thocht he would be like at aal, at aal," admitted the Captain, somewhat disappointed. "Iss he a rale Pompanion?"

"Pure bred!" said Sunny Jim; "never lets go the grip. Examine his jaw."

"Look you at his jaw, Dougie, and see if he's the rale Pompanion," said the Captain; but Dougie declined. "I'll wait till we're better acquent," he said. "Man! doesn't he look desperate dour?"

"Oor new nock's a' right wi' a dug like that to watch it," said Macphail; "he's as guid as a guardship."

Biler surveyed them curiously, not very favourably impressed, and deaf, of course, to all blandishments. For a day or two the slightest hasty movement on the part of any of his new companions made him growl ferociously and display an appalling arsenal of teeth. As a watch-dog he was perfect; nobody dared come down a quay within a hundred yards of the Vital Spark without his loud, alarming bay. Biler spoiled the quay-head angling all along Loch Fyne.

In a week or two Para Handy got to love him, and bragged incessantly of his remarkable intelligence. "Chust a pup!" he would say, "but as long in the heid as a weedow woman. If he had aal his faculties he would not be canny, and indeed he doesna seem to want his hearin' much; he's ass sharp in the eye ass a polisman. A dog like that should have a Board of Tred certuficate."

Dougie, however, was always dubious of the pet. "Take my word, Peter," he would say solemnly, "there's muschief in him; he's no a dog you can take to your he'rt at aal, at aal, and he barks himsel' black in the face wi' animosity at Macphail."

"Didn't I tell you?" would the Captain cry, exultant. "Ass deaf ass a door, and still he can take the measure o' Macphail! I hope, Jum, your frien' in Fairfield's no' in a hurry to get him back."

"Not him," said Sunny Jim. "He's no expectin' him back at a'. I tell't him Biler was drooned at Colintraive, and a' he said was 'ye micht hae tried to save his collar.'"

And Dougie's doubts were fully justified in course of time. The Vital Spark was up with coals at Skipness, at a pier a mile away from the village, and Para Handy had an invitation to a party. He dressed himself in his Sunday clothes, and, redolent of scented soap, was confessed the lion of the evening, though Biler unaccountably refused to accompany him. At midnight he came back along the shore, to the ship, walking airily on his heels, with his hat at a dashing angle. The crew of the Vital Spark were all asleep, but the faithful Biler held the deck, and the Captain heard his bark.

"Pure Pompanion bred!" he said to himself. "As wise as a weedow woman! For the rale sagacity give me a dog!"

He made to step from the quay to the vessel's gunnel, but a rush and a growl from the dog restrained him; Biler's celebrated grip was almost on his leg.

"Tuts, man," said the Captain, "I'm sure you can see it's me; it's Peter. Good old Biler; stop you and I'll give you a buscuit!"

He ventured a foot on the gunnel again, and this time Biler sampled the tweed of his trousers. Nothing else was stirring in the Vital Spark. The Captain hailed his shipmates for assistance; if they heard, they never heeded, and the situation was sufficiently unpleasant to annoy a man of better temper even than Para Handy. No matter how he tried to get on board, the trusty watch-dog kept him back. In one attempt his hat fell off, and Biler tore it into the most impressive fragments.

"My Cot," said the Captain, "issn't this the happy evenin'? Stop you till I'll be pickin' a dog again, and it'll be wan wi' aal his faculties."

He had to walk back to the village and take shelter ashore for the night; in the morning Biler received him with the friendliest overtures, and was apparently astonished at the way they were received.

"Jum," said the Captain firmly, "you'll take back that dog to your frien' in Fairfield, and tell him there's no' a bit o' the rale Pompanion in him. He's chust a common Gleska dog, and he doesna know a skipper when he sees him, if he's in his Sunday clothes."