Mistress and Commander by Amelia Dalton

Author:Amelia Dalton [Dalton, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandstone Press Ltd
Published: 2017-05-02T04:00:00+00:00

Ten

The Monaco weaved her way between the anchored yachts, creeping into the small harbour in the soft grey mid-summer night. It seemed still and safe after the swells of the open Atlantic beyond the Hebrides and around St Kilda. We were approaching Cubby’s second favourite island. (Nothing of course could beat Jura where he was born and where ‘the sun always shone’. ‘There you are! Just take a peek!’ was his standard comment, pointing to the south where the Paps of Jura would be bathed in sunshine.)

He was annoyed because the yachts didn’t need to be just there. Anchored between the churches, they could be further in, leaving the deeper water for Monaco. But the yachty ‘bible’ said to anchor between the two churches and in his eyes August was ‘the silly season’, full of part-time yachties. There would be a few puffins still out on the stac on the south side and the walking was perfect. Our passengers always loved a leg stretch here, enjoying the island’s many charms from corncrakes to roses.

A whiff of frying bacon greeted me as I came on deck and I stuck my head into the saloon next morning; twelve happy-looking passengers were tucking into one of Kate’s generous breakfasts. The sun blazed down and after three glorious days at St Kilda everyone else was in a sunny mood.

‘Good morning, everyone. I hope you all slept well. Cubby says we’ll be here overnight so lots of time to explore and Kate will be happy to fix you up with a sandwich to eat ashore if you wish. Then we’ll continue to the Sound of Mull, with a final stop in Tobermory en route.’ I could feel Kate grinning behind me; we all loved an excuse to stop in Tobermory: the pub was the hub of the west coast, there was always fun to be had and fishermen to flirt with.

A soft breath tickled my ear, ‘I’m off to get my tatties, do you want to come?’ Cubby quietly whispered behind me.

‘Tatties! There’s plenty on board, what do you want more for?’

‘Och, those’re not real tatties! They’re for the passengers!’ was the scornful answer. ‘You know the Small Isles grow the best tatties in the world? Golden Wonders!’

I agreed with alacrity. There was no mobile coverage in the harbour and I needed to see if there were any new bookings. Besides, a stroll ashore together was always entertaining. Cubby rarely left Monaco while she was at anchor, so it meant he wanted a walk too. We always bumped into someone he’d known for years and the craic would start.

We sauntered along in sunny warmth, sea on one side as we passed the little church, where tombstones hairy with lichen leant precariously towards the clutch of low stone buildings huddled on the shoreline at the inner end of the harbour. Oystercatchers like bustling waiters worked along the high-water mark, checking under the stones and chattering to each other. We passed the white gate by the entrance to the drive.

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