Read Online Complete New Tales of Para Handy by Stuart Donald - Free Book Online Page B

I wass workin’ for a man in Girvan that had a sailin’ gabbart caaled the Elizabeth Jane . Wan time we wass in Campbeltown wi’ a load o’ lime from the quarry at Glenarm in Antrum, and wass due to sail back ower to Ireland for anither wan.
    â€œThe herrin’ fushin’ in Kilbrannan Soond and Loch Fyne wass absolutely in its prime at the time. The skiffs wass comin’ in each mornin’ nearly sinkin’ under the weight o’ the fush they had on board. There wass such a glut o’ herrin’, you couldna give the fresh fush away in Gleska, and the kipperin’ sheds and the picklin’ factories couldna keep up wi’ the supply.
    â€œPara Handy wass chust a young man, and he wass aye lookin’ for ways to turn a coin. He had an uncle that wass a fush merchant in the toon and when he saw the glut o’ fush there wass, Para Handy went to him wi’ a proposition. The Elizabeth Jane would cairry a load of fresh herrin’ in barrels ower to Glenarm, where there wissna mich o’ a fushin’, and sell them there, and the pair o’ them wud split the profit on the trup.
    â€œI didna like the soond o’ it, and said so. But Para Handy wass convinced he wass aboot to mak’ his fortune and he wouldna listen to reason. So off we went on Tuesday afternoon wi’ aboot a hunder barrels o’ fresh fush in the hold, which wass to be sold in Glenarm ass soon ass we docked the next mornin’.
    â€œIt was a bonnie day, wi’ chust the right north-easterly breeze to gi’e us a good passage.
    â€œBut by mudnight, the breeze had dropped tae nothin’ and we wass chust druftin’ aboot wi’ aal sails flappin’ and us gettin’ nowhere. For three whole days there wassna a breath o’ wund and we lay like a piece o’ druftwood, goin’ a mile here and a mile there wi’ the tide and the current, and the sun wass chust bakin’ doon!
    â€œWe could see the hills of the Irish Coast to the sooth, and Kintyre to the north, but they could have been the mountains o’ the moon for aal the chance we had to reach them. We got the sweeps oot and tried to row her, but wi’ the weight of the fush we had in the hold we didna mak’ a hundred yerds an hoor and we dam’ near drapped wi’ the effort o’ it.
    â€œBy the third day the fush wass in an interestin’ condeetion and there wassna mich fresh air on board, I can tell you! They wassna fresh fush at aal by noo, those herrin’: they was in gey poor trum, cooped up in barrels in yon hot-hoose o’ a hold under a bleezin’ sun. By the fourth mornin’ you chust tried no’ to breathe, if at aal possible.
    â€œOn the fifth day, thank the Lord, the wind got up again, from the sooth-west: there wass no point in tryin’ to sail against it to Glenarm, for naebody wud buy the fush noo, so Para Handy headed back for Campbeltown to dump the cairgo — before it got up and waalked ashore on its own. Ass we came in the harbour you could see the folk on the quayside stert sniffin’ and then run for cover, and the piermaster wouldna let us berth the gabbart, never mind unload it!
    â€œWe had to pit oot to sea again, and spend the night wi’ a scairf tied over our noses and mooths, winchin’ the barrels oot o’ the hold and drappin’ them quick ower the side o’ the boat. The smell wass chust unbelievable!
    â€œIt aal cost Para Handy a pretty penny, he had to pay for the barrels, but worse we both lost oor chobs, for the owner foond oot why we wass so late gettin’ back to Glenarm and when we reached Campbeltown wi’ the second load of lime there wass a new skipper and a new mate waitin’ to tak’ oor berths.
    â€œAnd though, for all Para Handy says, I have neffer in my life been sea-sick I can tell you Jum, that for the maist of that particular trup I wass sick at sea. Very sick. And so