It was no good denying it. I needed his help. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But I’d rather not talk about it now.’
To my relief he seemed to accept that. ‘Well, it’s your own business, nothing to do with me. I don’t give a bloody damn about Braddock. He cost a lot of men their lives and if he’d bothered to consult me first … However — ’ He shrugged. ‘It’s done now and I don’t like to see a man hounded out of his wits. Did you know they’d got an aircraft up looking for him?’ He stood there a moment, thinking it out. ‘Suppose I refuse to give you the local forecast — what then, would you still go?’
‘Yes. I’d have to rely on the BBC shipping forecasts, and that wouldn’t be the same as having the local weather from you. But I’d still go.’
He nodded. ‘Okay. That’s what I thought.’ And he added, ‘I don’t know what your connection with Braddock is or what you hope to achieve by going to Learg, but nobody would undertake a trip like that unless they had very strong reasons for doing so. I accept that, and I’ll do what I can to help you.’ He stubbed out his cigarette. ‘The weather’s been bloody awful these last few weeks and that Low that’s coming in from the Atlantic — ‘ he nodded to the weather map — ‘it’s still intensifying. The new figures just came in over the teleprinter. Pressure at the centre is nine-seven-two falling and unless the ridge of high pressure in front of it builds up — and I don’t think it will — that next Low will start coming through some time tomorrow night. After that… well, this is just guesswork, but we might get a fine spell. It’s about time, you know.’ He went back to the desk. ‘I’ll give you my call sign and the frequency you have to listen on.’ He wrote it down for me and suggested I tuned in to his net at 22.00 hours. ‘Just to check that you’re picking me up all right. Phone me at nine o’clock tomorrow morning here. I usually look in about that time if I’m not on the morning shift.’
I thanked him, but as I turned to go he stopped me. ‘Take my advice, Ross, and keep clear of the Military. It’s not only Braddock they’re worried about. There’s a report of a Russian trawler in the area, and this new chap, Colonel Webb — very cautious he is. Can’t blame him after what’s happened. And a fellow alone in a rubber dinghy, you see … thought I’d better warn you.’
I left him then. It was just after six-thirty. The car was waiting for me at the main gate and there was an officer leaning against it, talking to Field. It was the dapper little captain who had replaced Mike Ferguson as Adjutant. He watched as I climbed into the back of the car and I thought he recognised me.
‘Marjorie tells me you’re going to Laerg,’ Field said as we drove off. ‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I hope Cliff Morgan was able to offer you the prospect of some better weather.’ He didn’t ask me why I was going.
But later that evening, sitting by the peat fire in their croft, it was obvious he had guessed. ‘The air search is being stepped up tomorrow — two helicopters and a Shackleton. They’ll be concentrating on The Minch and the Inner Hebrides, and every fishing vessel will be on the lookout for him.’
‘He hasn’t been seen then?’
‘No. But it’s just a matter of time.’ And he added, ‘I gather he was under treatment. It’s possible he said things …’ He didn’t look at me, but sat staring into the fire, his long, beaked face in silhouette against the lamplight. ‘These truth drugs, they quite often work, you know.’ And then he gave me the same advice that Cliff had given me. ‘If you don’t want the Army bothering you, I should get away from here just as soon as you can. The North Ford, between North Uist and Benbecula, is as good a jumping-off place as any. Nobody will bother you there, and when you do sail you’d have the Monach Isles to land on if the wind got up.’ He turned his head suddenly and looked at me. ‘I wonder what makes you so certain Braddock is heading for Laerg?’ And when I didn’t say anything, he added, ‘That night when we were leaving, he wanted the tug to go without him, didn’t he?’ I hadn’t expected him to have guessed that. His gaze returned to the fire. ‘A strange man. Quite ruthless. But a great deal of courage. And with a drive … I think that’s what one most admired, that driving energy of his.’ And after a moment he added, ‘For your sake I hope the end of it all isn’t — ‘ he hesitated — ‘some ghastly tragedy.’
Marjorie came in then with supper on a tray. We ate it there by the fire. It was a cosy, pleasant meal, and for a while I was able to forget the weather and the sense of loneliness, almost of isolation, that had been growing in me ever since I’d returned to the Hebrides.
I had to leave at nine-thirty in order to be back in time to pick up Cliffs transmission and test reception. ‘I’ll walk down with you,’ Field said. Marjorie came to the door with us. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said. ‘I hope you don’t have too unpleasant a night.’
Outside the rain had ceased, but was blowing harder than ever. Field didn’t say anything until we had passed the church. ‘I wanted to have a word with you alone.’
His voice was hesitant. ‘About Marjorie. You realise she’s in love with you?’ And he went on quickly. ‘She’s Celt — both sides. She’s the sort of girl who’d break her heart over somebody.’ He stopped and faced me. ‘I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if you were an ordinary fellow. But you’re not. You’re an artist. I don’t know why that makes a difference but it does.’
I didn’t know what to say, for I hadn’t given much thought to the way the relationship between us had been developing, and now … ‘Probably it’s just the reaction … I mean, she was fond of Ferguson.’
‘Fond, yes. But nothing more. You’re an older man …’ He hesitated. ‘Not married, are you?’
‘I was — for a few months. But that finished years ago.’
‘I see. Well … ” He sounded awkward about it now. ‘We’re very close, Marjorie and I — always have been since her mother died. And now she’s grown up …’ He started walking again, his head down. ‘Not your fault, perhaps, but don’t make a fool of her. I couldn’t bear that — and nor could she.’ And he added, ‘Well, there it is … just so that you understand.’ He didn’t give me a chance to say anything, but switched abruptly to the subject of my voyage to Laerg. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘The weather up here can change very quickly. Right now there are half-a-dozen lobster fishermen marooned on the Monachs. Been there almost a fortnight.’
‘I’ll be all right,’ I said. ‘Cliffs giving me the local forecasts.’
‘If I weren’t tied up here, I’d offer to come with you. I don’t like the idea of your doing it alone. Nor does Marjorie.’ We had reached the dip in the road that led down to the hotel and he stopped. ‘Well, you know what you’re doing, I suppose.’ And he added, ‘I’ll let you know if there’s any further news of Braddock.’ He left me then, going back up the road, the darkness swallowing him almost at once.
I had pitched my tent on the same grass slope just beyond the small boat harbour and I got back to it just in time to pick up Cliffs transmission. He gave me his call sign first — GM3CMX, repeated several times; then the weather forecast, keyed much slower than he would normally send. Reception was good, loud and clear with no interruption. He followed the forecast with a brief message: Your arrival commented on. Remember my advice and clear out tomorrow. He ended his message with the letters CL, which meant that he was closing down his station.
I lit the pressure lamp and got out my charts, starting with 2508 which covered the whole hundred miles of the Outer Hebrides chain and included all the out-islands. Laerg stood solitary and alone on the very edge of the chart, a tiny speck surrounded by the blank white of ocean, with only scattered soundings. The shortest line from Laerg to the Hebrides touched North Uist at its westermost point, Air-an-Runair. The distance was eighty-three nautical miles.