A Wild Call

Welcome to our regular feature showcasing the talents of the nation’s best writers.

Over in the southwest the sky had grown dark. The tide was pulling harder, sweeping Molio under the towering Mull [of Kintyre]. It stood as a brooding giant, shoulders hunched, head shrouded by cloud, braced against the invading seas. The water slapped idly at Molio’s side and we slipped into the stilled cauldron, unnoticed by the gods. A guillemot, handsome in its black and white suit, dived and then surfaced alongside the cockpit as if attempting to warn me off. The darkness spread from the south reaching out towards us. I remembered reading stories of white squalls coming unexpectedly out of nothing, to roll a sailing ship on its side. If Poseidon so chose, he could churn this sea into a seething tempest. I furled the yankee. As visibility contracted around me, sounds seemed to be magnified. The sea sucked and gurgled alongside. A gull’s cry echoed off the cliffs. The swell boomed as it entered a sea cave. A heavy roll of thunder began far to the south, a growling in the darkness. It quietened to a continuous mutter. I kept looking for telltale signs of a squall. Eventually I ran forward and lowered the mainsail, lashing it quickly to the boom. The thunder came again; closer now. Peal upon peal rumbled across the sea. A memory stirred. Could it be ship’s guns? Closer and closer it came, echoing from the cliffs around me. Could it be a naval exercise? I recalled one time as a boy, when sailing with my father, we heard the navy practising. I glanced at the Admiralty chart. Ten nautical miles to the south was a note, Firing Practice Area. Thunder bolts exploded around me, shaking the air, making me giddy and confused. My father had told me that when a battleship fired its sixteen-inch guns, the shells roared past at twice the speed of sound. “Your head rings and your heart leaps. When the fleet opens up in naval battles the air shudders from the broadsides. One salvo follows another in a continuous scream that comes from all directions, on and on, until you can think of nothing else, just the great guns firing.” ■