Whisky Galore by Compton Mackenzie

Author:Compton Mackenzie [Mackenzie, Compton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vintage Classics
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

THE SERGEANT-MAJOR BACK AGAIN

WE have seen that Bean a’ Bhiffer was a placid woman. She merely smiled when her youngest son informed her where his father was sleeping.

‘You’d better go and tell Bean Ailein or she’ll be asking after Drooby.’

‘Well, and I was just beginning to wonder what had become of him,’ said Bean Ailein, a bright, bustling little woman. ‘He’s asleep in your father’s shed, is he? Och, he’d better stay there till he wakes up. I’m sure he’ll be out again tonight,’ she laughed.

‘There’ll be a lot of them out tonight,’ said Jimmy.

Just before one o’clock that Monday, Mrs Wishart came in to inform Dr Maclaren that Archie MacRurie and Alan Galbraith wanted to see him.

‘Hullo, what’s the matter with them?’ he exclaimed.

‘There’s strong smell of liquor in the hall,’ Mrs Wishart said severely. ‘I noticed it the moment I opened the front door. I asked them why they didn’t go round to the surgery and they said they’d come to see you about business.’

‘A strong smell of liquor?’ the Doctor chuckled. ‘Already?’

‘Terrible,’ his housekeeper sniffed. ‘Worse than any bar.’

‘You don’t mean to tell me you ever frequented bars, Mrs Wishart.’

‘I used to accompany Mr Wishart sometimes when we were first married. It was a duty,’ she replied mournfully.

‘Well, show them in here,’ the Doctor told her.

‘Don’t forget your lunch will be on the table at one sharp,’ Mrs Wishart reminded him as she withdrew.

‘And what can I do for you both?’ Dr Maclaren asked when Drooby and the Biffer were in his sitting-room.

Drooby pulled open his jacket and thrust a huge hand into a pocket. The Biffer did the same.

‘Lion Rampant,’ said Drooby, putting an oblong bottle on the table.

‘Tartan Perfection,’ said the Biffer, putting a bottle with shoulders like a Victorian miss beside it.

‘Just for a start,’ said Drooby.

‘You’ll be getting a case pretty soon,’ the Biffer promised.

‘It’s really kind of you chaps to think of me,’ the Doctor exclaimed. ‘I appreciate the thought. You know old Hector MacRurie over at Knockdown?’

‘Sure, I know him,’ said the Biffer. ‘His grandfather and my great-grandfather were second cousins. He was in the Home Guard for the first year, but he had to give it up on account of his legs.’

‘As soon as I’ve had my lunch I’m going to take one of these bottles up to him.’ The Doctor picked up Lion Rampant and read the export stamp in the glass.

‘Ninety-nine per cent proof,’ he ejaculated reverently.

‘And Tartan Perfection is the same,’ the Biffer assured him.

‘Dash it, I’ve asked a lot of patients to say ninety-nine,’ Dr Maclaren laughed. ‘But I never expected to say it myself with such relish. Oh, this is the real Mackay!’

‘Ay, it’s good stuff, right enough,’ Drooby said. ‘We tried it ourselves when we got back this morning. And, Doctor, there’s thousands of bottles in the Cabinet Minister. Every kind of whisky anybody could think of. I’m not surprised those Americans have come into the war. I believe we’d have won the war without them by now if they hadn’t drunk all our whisky.

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