White Heather: A Novel (Volume 1 of 3)

CHAPTER XV
WILD TIMES

What that mysterious gloom had meant on the previous evening was revealed to them the next morning by a roaring wind that came swooping down from the Clebrig slopes, shaking the house, and howling through the bent and leafless trees. The blue surface of the lake was driven white with curling tips of foam; great bursts of sunlight sped across the plains and suddenly lit up the northern hills; now and again Ben Hope or Ben Hee or Ben Loyal would disappear altogether behind a vague mass of gray, and then as quickly break forth again into view, the peaks and shoulders all aglow and the snow-patches glittering clear and sharp. The gillies hung about the inn door, disconsolate. Nelly made no speed with the luncheon-baskets. And probably Mr. Hodson and his daughter would have relapsed into letter-writing, reading, and other feeble methods of passing a rough day in the Highlands, had not Ronald come along and changed the whole aspect of affairs. For if the wind was too strong, he pointed out, to admit of their working the phantom-minnow properly, they might at least try the fly. There were occasional lulls in the gale. It was something to do. Would Miss Hodson venture? Miss Hodson replied by swinging her waterproof on her arm; and they all set out.

Well, it was a wild experiment. At first, indeed, when they got down to the shores of the loch, the case was quite hopeless; no boat – much less a shallow flat-bottomed coble – could have lived in such a sea; and they merely loitered about, holding themselves firm against the force of the wind, and regarding as best they might the savage beauty of the scene around them – the whirling blue and white of the loch, the disappearing and reappearing hills, the long promontories suddenly become of a vivid and startling yellow, and then as suddenly again steeped in gloom. But Miss Carry was anxious to be aboard.

'We should only be driven across to the shore yonder,' Ronald said; 'or maybe capsized.'

'Oh, but that would be delightful,' she remarked instantly. 'I never had my life saved. It would read very well in the papers.'

'Yes, but it might end the other way,' her father interposed. 'And then I don't see where the fun would come in – though you would get your newspaper paragraph all the same.'

Ronald had been watching the clouds and the direction of the squalls on the loch; there was some appearance of a lull.

'We'll chance it now,' he said to the lad; and forthwith they shoved the boat into the water, and arranged the various things.

Miss Carry was laughing. She knew it was an adventure. Her father remonstrated; but she would not be hindered. She took her seat in the coble, and got hold of the rod; then they shoved off and jumped in; and presently she was paying out the line, to which was attached a 'silver doctor' about as long as her forefinger. Casting, of course, was beyond her skill, even had the wind been less violent; there was nothing for it but to trail the fly through these rushing and tumbling and hissing waves.

And at first everything seemed to go well enough – except that the coble rolled in the trough of the waves so that every minute she expected to be pitched overboard. They were drifting down the wind; with the two oars held hard in the water to retard the pace; and the dancing movement of the coble was rather enjoyable; and there was a kind of fierceness of sunlight and wind and hurrying water that fired her brain. These poor people lingering on the shore – what were they afraid of? Why, was there ever anything so delightful as this – the cry of the wind and the rush of the water; and everything around in glancing lights and vivid colours; for the lake was not all of that intense and driven blue, it became a beautiful roseate purple where the sunlight struck through the shallows on the long banks of ruddy sand. She would have waved her cap to those poor forlorn ones left behind, but that she felt both hands must be left free in case of emergency.

But alas! that temporary lull in which they had started was soon over. A sharper squall than any before came darkening and tearing across the loch; then another and another; until a downright gale was blowing, and apparently increasing every moment in violence. Whither were they drifting? They dared not run the coble ashore; all along those rocks a heavy sea was breaking white; they would have been upset and the boat stove in in a couple of minutes.

'This'll never do, Johnnie, lad,' she heard Ronald call out. 'We'll have to fight her back, and get ashore at the top.'

'Very well; we can try.'

And then the next moment all the situation of affairs seemed changed. There was no longer that too easy and rapid surging along of the coble, but apparently an effort to drive her through an impassable wall of water; while smash after smash on the bows came the successive waves, springing into the air, and coming down on the backs of the men with a rattling volley of spray. Nay, Miss Carry, too, got her Highland baptism – for all her crouching and shrinking and ducking; and her laughing face was running wet; and her eyes – which she would not shut, for they were fascinated with the miniature rainbows that appeared from time to time in the whirling spray – were half-blinded. But she did not seem to care. There was a fierce excitement and enjoyment in the struggle – for she could see how hard the men were pulling. And which was getting the better of the fight – this firm and patient endeavour, or the fell power of wind and hurrying seas?

And then something happened that made her heart stand still: there was a shriek heard above all the noise of the waves – and instinctively she caught up the rod and found the line whirling out underneath her closed fingers. What was it Ronald had exclaimed? 'Oh, thunder!' or some such thing; but the next moment he had called to her in a warning voice —

'Sit still – sit still – don't move – never mind the fish – let him go – he'll break away with the fly and welcome.'

But it seemed to him cowardly advice too; and she one behind her father in the score. He sent a glance forward in a kind of desperation: no, there was no sign of the squall moderating, and they were a long way from the head of the loch. Moreover, the salmon, that was either a strong beast or particularly lively, had already taken out a large length of line, in the opposite direction.

'Do you think,' said he hurriedly, 'you could jump ashore and take the rod with you, if I put you in at the point down there?'

'Yes, yes!' she said, eagerly enough.

'You will get wet.'

'I don't care a cent about that – I will do whatever you say – '

He spoke a few words to the lad at the bow; and suddenly shifted his oar thither.

'As hard as ye can, my lad.'

And then he seized the rod from her, and began reeling in the line with an extraordinary rapidity, for now they were drifting down the loch again.

'Do ye see the point down there, this side the bay?'

'Yes.'

'There may be a little shelter there; and we're going to try to put ye ashore. Hold on to the rod, whatever ye do; and get a footing as fast as ye can.'

'And then?' she said. 'What then? What am I to do?' – for she was rather bewildered – the water still blinding her eyes, the wind choking her breath.

'Hold on to the rod – and get in what line ye can.'

All this wild, rapid, breathless thing seemed to take place at once. He gave her the rod; seized hold of his oar again, and shifted it; then they seemed to be turning the bow of the boat towards a certain small promontory where some birch trees and scattered stones faced the rushing water. What was happening – or going to happen – she knew not; only that she was to hold on to the rod; and then there was a sudden grating of the bow on stones – a smash of spray over the stern – the coble wheeled round – Ronald had leapt into the water – and, before she knew where she was, he had seized her by the waist and swung her ashore – and though she fell, or rather slipped and quietly sat down on some rocks, she still clung to the rod, and she hardly had had her feet wet! This was what she knew of her own position; as for Ronald and the lad, they paid no further heed to her, for they were seeking to get the coble safe from the heavy surge; and then again she had her own affairs to attend to; for the salmon, though it was blissfully sulking after the first long rushes, might suddenly make up its mind for cantrips.

Then Ronald was by her side again – rather breathless.

'You've still got hold of him? – that's right – but give him his own time – let him alone – I don't want him in here among the stones in rough water like this.'

And then he said, rather shamefacedly —

'I beg your pardon for gripping ye as I had to do – I – I thought we should have been over – and you would have got sorely wet.'

'Oh, that's all right,' she said – seeking in vain amid the whirling waste of waters for any sign or glimpse of the salmon. 'But you – you must be very wet – why did you jump into the water?'

'Oh, that's nothing – there, let him go! – give him his own way! – now, reel in a bit – quicker – quicker – that'll do, now.'

As soon as she had got the proper strain on the fish again, she held out her right hand.

'Pull off my glove, please,' she said – but still with her eyes intent on the whirling waves.

Well, he unbuttoned the long gauntlet – though the leather was all saturated with water; but when he tried the fingers, he could not get them to yield at all; so he had to pull down the gauntlet over the hand, and haul off the glove by main force – then he put it in his pocket, for there was no time to waste on ceremony.

There was a sudden steady pull on the rod; and away went the reel.

'Let him go – let him go – ah, a good fish, and a clean fish too! I hope he'll tire himself out there, before we bring him in among the stones.'

Moreover, the gale was abating somewhat, though the big waves still kept chasing each other in and springing high on the rocks. She became more eager about getting the fish. Hitherto, she had been rather excited and bewildered, and intent only on doing what she was bid; now the prospect of really landing the salmon had become joyful.

'But how shall we ever get him to come in here?' she said.

'He's bound to come, if the tackle holds; and I'm thinking he's well hooked, or he'd been off ere now, with all this scurrying water.'

She shifted the rod to her right hand; her left arm was beginning to feel the continued strain.

'Has the other boat been out?' she asked.

'No, no,' said he, and then he laughed. 'It would be a fine thing if we could take back a good fish. I know well what they were thinking when we let the boat drift down the second time – they were thinking we had got the line aground, and were in trouble. And now they canna see us – it's little they're thinking that we're playing a fish.'

'We' and 'us' he said quite naturally; and she, also, had got into the way of calling him Ronald – as every one did.

Well, that was a long and a stiff fight with the salmon; for whenever it found that it was being towed into the shallows, away it went again, with rush on rush, so that Miss Carry had her work cut out for her, and had every muscle of her arms and back aching.

'Twenty pounds, you'll see,' she heard the lad Johnnie say to his companion; and Ronald answered him —

'I would rather than ten shillings it was.'

Twenty pounds! She knew that this was rather a rarity on this loch – ten or eleven pounds being about the average; and if only she could capture this animal – in the teeth of a gale too – and go back to the others in triumph, and also with another tale to tell to Lily Selden! She put more and more strain on; she had both hands firm on the butt; her teeth were set hard. Twenty pounds! Or if the hook should give way? Or the line be cut on a stone? Or the fish break it with a spring and lash of its tail? Fortunately she knew but little of the many and heart-rending accidents that happen in salmon-fishing, so that her fears were fewer than her hopes; and at last her heart beat quickly when she saw Ronald take the clip in his hand.

But he was very cautious; and bade her take time; and spoke in an equable voice – just as if she were not growing desperate, and wondering how long her arms would hold out! Again and again, by dint of tight reeling up and putting on a deadly strain, she caught a glimpse of the salmon; and each of these times she thought she could guide it sailingly towards the spot where Ronald was crouching down by the rocks; and then again it would turn and head away and disappear – taking the line very slowly now, but still taking it. She took advantage of one of these pauses in the fight to step farther back some two or three yards; this was at Ronald's direction; and she obeyed without understanding. But soon she knew the reason; for at last the salmon seemed to come floating in without even an effort at refusal; and as she was called on to give him the butt firmly, she found she could almost drag him right up and under Ronald's arm. And then there was a loud 'hurrah!' from the lad John as the big silver fish gleamed in the air; and the next second it was lying there on the withered grass and bracken. Miss Carry, indeed, was so excited that she came near to breaking the top of the rod; she forgot that the struggle was over; and still held on tightly.

'Lower the top, Miss,' the lad John said, 'or ye can put the rod down altogether.'

Indeed he took it from her to lay it down safely, and right glad was she; for she was pretty well exhausted by this time, and fain to take a seat on one of the rocks while they proceeded to weigh the salmon with a pocket-scale.

'Seventeen pounds – and a beauty: as pretty a fish as ever I saw come out of the loch.'

'Well, we've managed it, Ronald,' said she, laughing, 'but I don't know how. There he is – sure; but how we got him out of that hurricane I can't tell.'

'There was twice I thought ye had lost him,' said he gravely. 'The line got desperately slack after ye jumped ashore – '

'Jumped ashore?' she said. 'Seems to me I was flung ashore, like a sack of old clothes.'

'But ye were not hurt?' said he, glancing quickly at her.

'No, no; not a bit – nor even wet; and if I had been, that is enough for anything.'

'Johnnie, lad, get some rushes, and put the fish in the box. We'll have a surprise for them when we get back, I'm thinking.'

'And can we get back?' she said.

'We'll try, anyway – oh yes – it's no so bad now.'

But still it was a stiff pull; and they did not think it worth while to put out the line again. Miss Carry devoted her whole attention to sheltering herself from the spray; and was fairly successful. When, at length, they reached the top of the loch and landed, they were treated to a little mild sarcasm from those who had prudently remained on shore; but they said nothing; the time was not yet come.

Then came the question as to whether all of them could pull down the opposite side of the loch to the big rock; for there they would have shelter for lunch; while here in the open every gust that swooped down from the Clebrig slopes caught them in mid career. Nay, just then the wind seemed to moderate; so they made all haste into the cobles; and in due time the whole party were landed at the rock, which, with its broad ledges for seats, and its overhanging ferns, formed a very agreeable and sheltered resort. Of course, there was but the one thing wanting. A fishing party at lunch on the shores of a Highland loch is a very picturesque thing; but it is incomplete without some beautiful silver-gleaming object in the foreground. There always is a bit of grass looking as if it were just meant for that display; and when the little plateau is empty, the picture lacks its chief point of interest.

'Well, you caught something if it wasn't a salmon,' her father said, glancing at her dripping hat and hair.

'Yes, we did,' she answered innocently.

'You must be wet through in spite of your waterproof. Sometimes I could not see the boat at all for the showers of spray. Did you get much shelter where you stopped?'

'Not much – a little.'

'It was a pretty mad trick, your going out at all. Of course Ronald only went to please you; he must have known you hadn't a ghost of a chance in a gale like that.'

'Pappa dear,' said she, 'there's nothing mean about me. There's many a girl I know would play it on her pa; but I'm not one of that kind. When I have three kings and a pair —

'Stop it, Carry,' said he angrily, 'I'm tired of your Texas talk. What do you mean?'

'I only want to show my hand,' she said sweetly; and she called aloud – 'Johnnie!'

The young lad jumped up from the group that were cowering under the shelter of the stone dyke.

'Bring the fish out of the boat, please.'

He went down to the coble, and got the salmon out of the well; and then, before bringing it and placing it on the grass before the young lady, he held it up in triumph for the gillies to see: the sarcasm was all the other way now.

'You see, pappa dear, you would have bet your boots against it, wouldn't you?' she remarked.

'But where did you get it?' he said, in amazement. 'I was watching your boat all the time. I did not see you playing a fish.'

'Because we got ashore as fast as we could, and had the fight out there. But please, pappa, don't ask me anything more than that. I don't know what happened. The wind was choking me, and I was half-blind, and the stones were slippery and moving, and – and everything was in a kind of uproar. Perhaps you don't think I did catch the salmon. If my arms could speak, they could tell you a different tale just at this minute; and I shall have a back to-morrow morning, I know that. Seventeen pounds, Ronald says; and as prettily shaped a fish as he has ever seen taken out of the lake.'

'He is a handsome fish,' her father admitted; and then he looked up impatiently at the wind-driven sky. 'There is no doubt there are plenty of fish in the lake, if the weather would only give us a chance. But it's either a dead calm or else a raging gale. Why, just look at that!'

For at this moment a heavier gust than ever struck down on the water – and widened rapidly out – and tore the tops of the waves into spray – until a whirling gray cloud seemed to be flying over to the other shores. The noise and tumult of the squall were indescribable; and then, in five or six minutes or so, the loch began to reappear again, black and sullen, from under that mist of foam; and the wind subsided – only to keep moaning and howling as if meditating further springs. There was not much use in hurrying lunch. The gillies had comfortably lit their pipes. Two of the younger lads were trying their strength and skill at 'putting the stone;' the others merely lay and looked on; an occasional glance at the loch told them they need not stir.

It was not jealousy of his daughter having caught a fish that made Mr. Hodson impatient; it was the waste of time. He could not find refuge in correspondence; he had no book with him; while gazing at scenery is a feeble substitute for salmon-fishing, if the latter be your aim. And then again the loch was very tantalising – awaking delusive hopes every few minutes. Sometimes it would become almost quiet – save for certain little black puffs of wind that fell vertically and widened and widened out; and they would be on the point of summoning the men to the cobles when, with a low growl and then a louder roar, the gale would be rushing down again, and the storm witches' white hair streaming across the suddenly darkened waters.

'"Ben Clebrig – the Hill of the Playing Trout,"' said he peevishly. 'I don't believe a word of it. Why, the Celtic races were famous for giving characteristic names to places – describing the things accurately. "The Hill of the Playing Trout!" Now, if they had called it "The Hill of the Infernal Whirlwinds," or "The Hill of Blasts and Hurricanes," or something of that kind, it would have been nearer the mark. And this very day last year, according to the list that Ronald has, they got nine salmon.'

'Perhaps we may get the other eight yet, pappa,' said she lightly.

And indeed, shortly after this, the day seemed to be getting a little quieter; and her father decided upon a start. The men came along to the coble. Ronald said to her —

'We will let them get well ahead of us; it's their turn now.' And so he and she and the lad John remained on the shore, looking after the departing boat, and in all sincerity wishing them good luck.

Presently she said, 'What's that?' – for something had struck her sharply on the cheek. It was a heavy drop of rain, that a swirl of wind had sent round the side of the rock; and now she became aware that everywhere beyond their shelter there was a loud pattering, becoming every moment heavier and heavier, while the wind rose and rose into an ominous high screeching. And then all round there was a hissing and a roar and from under the rock she looked forth on the most extraordinary phantasmagoria – for now the sheets of rain as they fell and broke on the water were caught by the angry mountain blasts and torn into spindrift, so that the whole lake seemed to be a mass of white smoke. And her father? – well, she could see something like the ghost of a boat and two or three phantom figures; but whether they were trying to fight their way, or letting everything go before the tempest, or what, she could not make out – for the whirling white rain-smoke made a mere spectral vision of them. Ronald came to her.

'That's bad luck,' said he composedly.

'What?' she asked, quickly. 'They are not in danger?'

'Oh no,' said he. 'But they've got both minnows aground, as far as I can make out.'

'But what about that? why don't they throw the rods and everything overboard, and get into safety?'

'Oh, they'll try to save the minnows, I'm thinking.'

And they did succeed in doing so – after a long and strenuous struggle; and then Mr. Hodson was glad to have them row him back to the shelter of the rock. Apparently his success with regard to the minnows had put him into quite a good humour.

'Carry,' said he, 'I'm not an obstinate man – I know when I've got enough. I will allow that this battle is too much for me. I'm going home. I'm going to walk.'

'Then I will go with you, pappa,' she said promptly.

'You may stay if you choose,' said he. 'You may stay and take my share as well as your own. But I'm going to see what newspapers the mail brought this morning; and there may be letters.'

'And I have plenty to do also,' said she. 'I mean to call on that pretty Miss Douglas I told you of – the Doctor's daughter. And do you think she would come along and dine with us? – or must I ask her mother as well?'

'I don't know what the society rules are here,' he answered. 'I suspect you will have to find out.'

'And Ronald – do you think he would come in and spend the evening with us? I can't find out anything about him – it's all phantom-minnows and things when he is in the boat.'

'Well, I should like that too,' said he: for he could not forsake the theories which he had so frequently propounded to her.

And so they set forth for the inn, leaving the men to get the boats back when they could; and after a long and brave battling with rain and wind they achieved shelter at last. And then Miss Carry had to decide what costume would be most appropriate for an afternoon call in the Highlands – on a day filled with pulsating hurricanes. Her bodice of blue with its regimental gold braid she might fairly adopt – for it could be covered over and protected; but her James I. hat with its gray and saffron plumes she had to discard – she had no wish to see it suddenly whirling away in the direction of Ben Loyal.