Empty Nets and Promises by Denzil Meyrick

let out a long and heartfelt sigh. ‘Stand weapons down, Palliser.’
    â€˜Aye, aye, sir!’
    As the Russian trawler docked at Kinloch’s second pier, the Harbour Master rushed to the side of the vessel. ‘Ahoy there! Dae you have a Sandy Hoynes aboard?’
    â€˜It’s yoursel’, Ritchie,’ greeted Hoynes, leaning over the rail of the trawler. ‘Wait the noo till I tell you whoot an exciting time we’ve been having.’ Standing beside him, Hamish looked heavenward.
    â€˜Och, I know fine whoot’s been happening. There’s been a bit on the radio a’ aboot it.’ Ritchie Brown shook his head. ‘Damn near an international incident oot in the Sound. Some yachtsman called it in tae the Coastguard. Warships firing guns, and all sorts. We’ll have a’ the newspapers here by teatime – aye, an’ the television, tae, so I’m told.’
    â€˜Whoot a stramash. These good men were good enough tae rescue us fae the Mull. That’s all there is tae it.’
    â€˜That’s no’ whoot I’m hearing,’ said the Harbour Master. ‘And on top o’ that, that polisman Grant has gone missing, and Watson the Fishery Officer’s up at the Cottage Hospital.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s good news, right enough,’ replied Hoynes, nodding at Hamish. ‘He’s a fine fella, that Watson. A wee bit highly strung, mind.’
    â€˜He’s highly strung noo, by all accounts. Arrived at Jackie MacKinnon’s farm at the Pass thonder, covered fae head tae toe in glaur. He’s only spoken two words since.’
    â€˜Was one o’ them “octopus”, by any chance?’ asked Hamish.
    â€˜No, nothing aboot octopuses – jeest “Sandy Hoynes”. That’s a’ he keeps saying, over and over. “Sandy Hoynes”.’
    Hoynes stroked his chin. Hamish had an infuriating I-told-you-so look on his face, while Geordie’s hands were shaking so much he was struggling to roll his cigarette. ‘As I say, fair highly strung, the man.’ He looked on as two brawny Russian seamen carried Marshall on a stretcher down the gangplank. ‘Good luck tae you, Mr Marshall. I’m sure that heid o’ yours will be jeest fine in a wee while. The ambulance is on its way.’
    â€˜All oor geese are comin’ hame tae roost at the same time. And we’ve still no’ arranged tae rescue them back at the bothy,’ said Hamish.
    â€˜It’s getting dark noo, Hamish. I’m sure they’ll be fine til the morning.’ Hoynes smiled. ‘It’s chickens, is it no’?’
    â€˜The lifeboat’s away roon’ the Mull. Tae your bothy, Geordie. Watson telt MacKinnon there was a party of folk stranded there by a landslide at the Piper’s Pass,’ said the Harbour Master.
    Hoynes thought for a moment. ‘You know, Hamish, the weather’s set fair the morrow. I think we should jeest have a wee nap on the boat, then get oot and get an early start tomorrow.’
    â€˜You mean hide fae Marjorie and Maggie.’
    â€˜Away ye go, nothing of the sort. We’ve got a hell o’ a lot o’ fishing tae catch up on.’
    Hoynes and Hamish tried to settle down for the night aboard the Girl Maggie , but there was an unusual amount of activity in the harbour. At one point, Hamish swore that he could hear Marjorie asking about the whereabouts of her husband, but Hoynes said he was imagining things.
    After a restless night, Hoynes shook Hamish out of his bunk, pointing to his watch. ‘It’s been light for half an hour. Time we got fired up and back oot tae the fishing. Young Peter will be here directly.’
    The fishermen were readying the vessel for sea when they heard someone shouting from the pier above. ‘Is anyone on board?’ The voice was insistent.
    Reluctantly, Hoynes poked his head out of the hatch and craned his neck up to the pier,