Inferno

Chapter 16

Stirk waited until they were alone in the kitchen. ‘Connie, m’ dear.’

‘Aye? If it’s more o’ them bannocks ye’re wanting-’

‘No, lass. It’s a-ways deeper’n that. I want t’ talk wi’ ye.’

She picked up on his tense mood and sat beside him at the table. ‘Tell me, Toby, what’s on your mind, then?’

‘It’s like this …’

He told her. The gold doubloon, the visit to the wreck, their distinguished guest’s opinion of its lying about the seabed with the fishes. ‘And t’ think under me as I swam was a pile o’ gold ready f ’r the picking – it was enough t’ choke me, I swear!’

Her eyes widened and she clasped her hands in sudden realisation. ‘Toby – d’ye know what I think it is? You’ve gone an’ found the Tobermory galleon, that’s what! They’s been searchin’ for it these hundreds o’ years, the Duke o’ Argyll an’ all – it’s filled wi’ gold an’ silver beyond all counting. Toby, if you …’ She tailed off at the enormity of it all. ‘What’ll you do now, love?’

He laid it out for her: a miraculous diving engine that had been used to raise treasure before. A partner wanting a half-share but making it all possible. Their big chance! ‘So, sis, if we c’n raise a purse that’ll see ’em satisfied they has their expenses, why, we c’n start diggin’ it out an’ no waitin’.’

‘How much does they want?’

It seemed so very reasonable when Kydd had neatly listed the outgoings, but spelled out in pounds, shillings and pennies it was a formidable sum.

‘That’s more’n McGillie earns in a year – two,’ she said faintly.

‘I knows it,’ Stirk said soberly. ‘I’ve some prize-money comin’ but I’ll never see ’un for a dog’s age yet. Laddie’s got nothin’ without he sells his boat.’

‘Your nice Mr Paine. Will he …?’

Stirk shook his head. ‘He can’t be seen gettin’ involved, more’n it’s worth f ’r him.’

She sighed, then said, with female practicality, ‘I’ll speak t’ McGillie when he comes home. He’ll know the right of it.’

As the summer dusk settled, the figure of the gamekeeper appeared at the door. ‘I’m home, lass,’ he boomed.

She hurried up and fussed at his coat. ‘Toby’s got something he has t’ discuss wi’ you,’ she said firmly.

‘Oh, aye? I’ll tie up yon dogs an’ be with him directly.’

Stirk exchanged significant glances with his sister, nodding to where Widow McGillie sat in her rocking chair, sewing, her beady eyes missing nothing.

‘Would ye excuse us, Ma? The men have some talkin’ to do.’

It was tough going. The hard-bitten man of the land was having no truck with tales of buried treasure and declared surprise at one of Stirk’s years being taken in by such old sailors’ yarns.

Only after it was explained that a respectable Tobermory merchant was putting his own money into it and, should the McGillies not be found wanting, he would be enabled to take a significant share did he see his way clear to discussing it further.

The door burst open. ‘Be damned to ye for a puckle-headed loon, lad!’ his old mother threw at him in shrill fury. ‘Ye has a chance t’ fill y’r boots wi’ Spanish gold from the Tobermory galleon. Are ye a-feart to open y’r purse for that?’

It was eventually settled that he would go to Auld Mackie, tell him all and, if the canny village elder himself put down hard coin, so would he.