The McBrides / A Romance of Arran

by John Sillars

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There was great company gathered at the Quay Inn when we entered, although many of the ships had sailed, but there were sailors too, for the bay was not handy for owners to come at, and the Quay Inn was a favourite, so that it was no uncommon thing for ships to be wind-bound for days, and even weeks, and there would be the great fights between the men from the ships and the lads from the glens. But there was no trouble when we entered at all, for with the snow and the hard frost outside, the great fire was the cheery place to be sitting at, and indeed there must needs be ill blood between men if they will not be agreeing over the best of drink, and fine company to be drinking it with.

But it was as if every one was well pleased and with no worries, for I saw no men whispering, with heads close, but every one happy to recklessness, and already there was the darker red flush on the faces that told of drink taken, and then I saw that many of the men gathered, had been to the cove at the Rhu Ban in their skiffs, and were met here to celebrate the run in their ain way. A great shouting they made when Dan stood among them, his eyes shining, for a ploy of this kind was meat and drink to him, and they made room for us by the fire; while McKelvie brought steaming glasses, and winked and nodded, and would be looking wise as though we might ken something about his wares that he would not be telling everybody, till indeed I could not keep back the laughing to see the grave stern man so far gone with his own liquor.

And as we sat I would be watching a sailor with a knife at his hip, and the lithe swing of the mountaineer in his carriage—a Skye man, I was thinking; but he stood silent against the jamb of the fireplace, and his eyes were dreamy and sad, and in myself I knew he was seeing his own place, and him outward bound. When the night was wearing on it came his turn to sing, and with his song I knew that my thinking was right, for his song was a farewell to Skye. Now I know not the words, but the air will haunt me whiles when the days are shortening, and the pictures he painted will never be leaving my mind.

For I saw the dark sad hills of Coulin, and the sun blood-red on the peaks, and the heavy dark night clouds tinged and burnished with gold, and the sea was all silent, with the wee waves rippling on the shore. And on the shore was a maiden looking away and away to sea, and the nets all unheeded at her feet, and the seagulls not heeding her at all, and the great sorrow was in her eyes, in the very poise of her; and I wondered where was the lithe lad she should be having to love her, for her eyes would aye be looking at the empty sea. . . .

When my mind was wandering on pictures of sadness, of an empty sea and great grim silent hills, the inn door was pushed open, and the cold swirl of frosty night air made the roysterers turn, and in there came a thick-set junk of a man. Always to my mind, Dol Rob Beag, for he it was, had a look of a Joonie doorie, being all run to shoulders, and no neck on him at all. His arms hung well to his knee, giving the man the appearance of a powerful animal. His face was brown as a smack's sail, and his eyes red and shifty as a ferret's.

"What is it ye waant here?" growled McKelvie with a lowerin' look, and there was silence from the others; and the men put their drink down where it would not spill if there should be a scrimmage. Dol Beag put a hand to his beard, and his shifty eyes fixed on the innkeeper.

"Ceevility," says he, "from a man in the public. I'm wantin' that, and I'll be payin' for whatever drink I'll tak. Put a refreshment before me, McKelvie, and go back again to your affairs."

There's no denying the man had a cold-steel bravery in him, and a grim smile flickered on his face as he watched McKelvie, for no Hielan'man born can thole being likened to a menial, and the dark blood of hatred glowed on the innkeeper's face.

"I ken the ceevility I would like to be giving to you, Dol Beag," says he, and put a drink on the table, and lifting the coin tendered in payment he hurled it behind the fire. "I would not be thinking myself clean if I kept your money."