FISHERS AND FISHING
As the evening drew on, the family who occupied the keeper's house
gathered together like crows to their rookery. Mrs. Hugh, who had been
helping at a large washing in "the big house", returned with a blythe
face, full of cheer and womanly kindness.
"Hech! but I hae had sic a day o't! What a washing! an' it's no' half
dune! But wha hae we here?" she asked, as she espied Jock seated near
the fire. "Dae I ken ye?" she further inquired, looking at him with a
sceptical smile, as if she feared to appear rude to one whom she ought,
perhaps, to have recognised.
Jock, with a sense of respect due to her, rose, and said, "I houp no',
for maybe I wad be nae credit tae ye as an acqua'ntance."
"A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer, o' Drumsylie," remarked old
Spence. "Sit doon, my man!"
"I'm glad tae see ye," said the happy sonsy wife, stretching out her
hand to Jock, who took it reluctantly, and gazed in the woman's face
with an awkward expression.
"It's been saft weather, and bad for travellin', and ye hae come a far
gait," she continued; and forthwith began to arrange her house. Almost
at her heels the children arrived. There were two flaxen-haired girls,
one ten and the other about twelve, with bare feet, and their locks tied
up like sheaves of ripe golden grain. Then came in a stout lad of about
seven, from school and play. All looked as fresh and full of life as
young roe from the forest.
"Gang awa', bairns, and snod yersels," said Mrs. Hugh.
"This man," said old Spence, who was jealous of his authority over the
household, pointing to Jock, "wull tak' his supper wi' us. He's tae
sleep in the stable-laft."
"He's welcome, he's welcome," said Mrs. Hugh. "The bed's nae braw, but
it's clean, and it's our best for strangers."
The last to enter, as the sun was setting, was John, the eldest, a lad
of about fourteen, the very picture of a pure-eyed, ruddy-complexioned,
healthy, and happy lad. He had left school to assist his father in
attending to his duties.
"What luck, Johnnie?" asked his father, as the boy entered with his
fishing basket over his shoulder.
"Middlin' only," replied John; "the water was raither laigh, and the
tak' wasna guid. There were plenty o' rises, but the troots were unco
shy. But I hae gotten, for a' that, a guid wheen;" and he unslung his
basket and poured out from it a number of fine trout.
Jock's attention was now excited. Here was evidence of an art which he
flattered himself he understood, and could speak about with some
authority.
"Pretty fair," was his remark, as he rose and examined them; "whaur got
ye them?"
"In the Blackcraig water," replied the boy.
"Let me luik at yer flee, laddie?" asked Jock. The boy produced it.
"Heckle, bad!--ye should hae tried a teal's feather on a day like this."
Johnnie looked with respect at the stranger. "Are ye a fisher?" he
asked.
"I hae tried my han'," said Jock. And so the conversation began, until
soon the two were seated together at the window. Then followed such a
talk on the mysteries of the craft as none but students of the angle
could understand:--the arrangement and effect of various "dressings", of
wings, bodies, heckles, &c., being discussed with intense interest,
until all acknowledged Jock as a master.
"Ye seem tae understan' the business weel," remarked Hugh.
"I wad need," replied Jock. "When a man's life, no' to speak o' his
pleasure, depen's on't, he needs tae fish wi' a watchfu' e'e and canny
han'. But at a' times, toom or hungry, it's a great diverteesement!"
Both Johnnie and his father cordially assented to the truth of the
sentiment.
"Eh, man!" said Jock, thus encouraged to speak on a favourite topic,
"what a conceit it is when ye reach a fine run on a warm spring mornin',
the wuds hotchin' wi' birds, an' dauds o' licht noos and thans glintin'
on the water; an' the water itsel' in trim order, a wee doon, after a
nicht's spate, and wi' a drap o' porter in't, an' rowin' and bubblin'
ower the big stanes, curlin' into the linn and oot o't; and you up tae
the henches in a dark neuk whaur the fish canna see ye; an' than to get
a lang cast in the breeze that soughs in the bushes, an' see yer flee
licht in the vera place ye want, quiet as a midge lichts on yer nose, or
a bumbee on a flower o' clover, an'----"
Johnnie was bursting with almost as much excitement as Jock, but did not
interrupt him except with a laugh expressive of his delight.
"An' than," continued Jock, "whan a muckle chiel' o' a salmon, wi'oot
time tae consider whether yer flee is for his wame or only for his
mooth--whether it's made by natur' or by Jock Hall--plays flap! and by
mistak' gangs to digest what he has gotten for his breakfast, but
suspec's he canna swallow the line alang wi' his mornin' meal till he
taks some exercise!--an' then tae see the line ticht, and the rod
bendin' like a heuk, and tae fin' something gaun frae the fish up the
line and up the rod till it reaches yer verra heart, that gangs _pit
pat_ at yer throat like a tickin' watch; until the bonnie cratur', efter
rinnin' up and doon like mad, noo skulkin' aside a stane tae cure his
teethache, then bilkin' awa' wi' a scunner at the line and trying every
dodge, syne gies in, comes tae yer han' clean beat in fair play, and
lies on the bank sayin' 'Wae's me' wi' his tail, an' makin' his will wi'
his gills and mooth time aboot!--eh, man, it's splendid!" Jock wearied
himself with the description.
"Whaur hae ye fished?" asked Hugh, after a pause during which he had
evidently enjoyed Jock's description.
"In the wast water and east water; in the big linn an' wee linn, in the
Loch o' the Whins, in the Red Burn, an' in----"
"I dinna ken thae waters at a'," remarked the keeper, interrupting him,
"nor ever heard o' them!"
"Nor me," chimed in old John, "though I hae been here for mair than
fifty year."
"Maybe no'," said Jock with a laugh, "for they're in the back o' the
beyonts, and that's a place few folk hae seen, I do assure you--ha! ha!
ha!" Jock had, in fact, fished the best streams watched by the keepers
throughout the whole district. Young John was delighted with this new
acquaintance, and looked up to him with the greatest reverence.
"What kin' o' flee duve ye fish wi'?" asked Johnnie. "Hae ye ony aboot
ye e'enoo?"
"I hae a few," said Hall, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, displaying a
tattered shirt within, and, diving into some hidden recess near his
heart, drew forth a large old pocket-book and placed it on the table.
He opened it with caution and circumspection, and spread out before the
delighted Johnnie, and his no less interested father, entwined circles
of gut, with flies innumerable.
"That's the ane," Jock would say, holding up a small, black, hairy
thing, "I killed ten dizzen wi'--thumpers tae, three pun's some o'
them--afore twa o'clock. Eh, man, he's a murderin' chiel this!"
exhibiting another. "But it was this ither ane," holding up one larger
and more gaudy, "that nicked four salmon in three hours tae their great
surprise! And thae flees," taking up other favourites, "wi' the
muirfowl wing and black body, are guid killers; but isna this a cracker
wi' the wee touch o' silver? it kilt mair salmon--whaur, ye needna
speer--than I could carry hame on a heather wuddie! But, Johnnie," he
added after a pause, "I maun, as yer freen', warn ye that it's no' the
flee, nor the water, nor the rod, nor the win', nor the licht, can dae
the job, wi'oot the watchfu' e'e and steady han', an' a feelin' for the
business that's kin' o' born wi' a fisher, but hoo that comes aboot I
dinna ken--I think I could maist catch fish in a boyne o' water if there
were ony tae catch!"