And Thereby Hangs a Tale

On June 22, 2009, Percy took a taxi to Euston station, where he boarded the overnight sleeper for Inverness. His luggage consisted of an overnight bag and his old school trunk, while inside his jacket pocket was a wallet containing two thousand pounds in cash.

On arrival in Inverness, Percy changed platforms and, an hour later, boarded a train that would take him even further north. The five-carriage shuttle stopped at every station on its long and relentless journey up the northeast coast of Scotland, until it finally came to a halt at the remote harbor town of Wick.

When Percy left the station, he commandeered the only taxi, which took him to the only hotel, where he booked into the only available room. After a one-course meal—the menu being fairly limited, and the kitchen staff having all left at nine o’clock—Percy retired to his room and read Robinson Crusoe before falling asleep.

The following morning he rose before the sun, as do most of the natives of the outer reaches of Scotland. He feasted on a large bowl of porridge oats and a pair of kippers that would have graced the Savoy, but rejected an offer of the Scotsman in favor of studying a long list of the items that would have to be acquired before the sun had set that afternoon.

Percy spent the first hour after breakfast walking up and down the high street, trying to identify the shops he would have to patronize if his trunk was to be filled by the time he left the following morning.

The first establishment he entered was MacPherson’s Camping Store. “Everything a hiker needs when trekking in the Highlands” was stenciled boldly on the window. After much bending over, lying down, and crawling in and out, Percy purchased an easy-to-erect, all-weather tent that the proprietor assured him would still be standing after a desert storm or a mountain gale.

By the time Percy had left the store he had filled four large brown carrier bags with his tent, a primus stove, a kettle, a goose-down sleeping bag with an inflatable pillow, a Swiss army knife (he had checked that it had a tin opener), a pair of Wellington boots, a fishing rod, a camera, a compass, and a portable telescope.

Mr. MacPherson directed Percy toward the MacPherson General Store on the other side of the road, assuring him that his brother Sandy would be happy to fulfill any other requirements he might still have.

The second Mr. MacPherson supplied Percy with a shovel, a plastic mug, plate, knife, fork and spoon, a dozen boxes of matches (Swan Vesta), a Roberts radio, three dozen Eveready batteries, four dozen candles, and a first-aid kit, which filled three more carrier bags. Once Percy had established that there wasn’t a third MacPherson brother to assist him, he settled for Menzies, where he was able to place several more ticks against items on his long list—a copy of the Radio Times, the Complete Works of Shakespeare (paperback), a day-to-day 2009 diary (half price), and an Ordnance Survey map showing the outlying islands in the North Sea.

Percy took a taxi back to his hotel, accompanied by nine carrier bags, which he dragged in relays up to his room on the second floor. After a light lunch of fish pie and peas, he set off once again for the high street.

He spent most of the afternoon pushing a trolley up and down the aisles of the local supermarket, stocking up with enough provisions to ensure he could survive for ninety days. Once he was back in his hotel room, he sat on the end of the bed and checked his list once again. He still required one essential item; in fact, he couldn’t leave Wick without it.

Although Percy had failed to find what he wanted in any of the shops in town, he had spotted a perfect secondhand example on the roof of the hotel. He approached the proprietor, who was surprised by the guest’s request but, noticing his desperation, drove a hard bargain, insisting on seventy pounds for the family heirloom.

“But it’s old, battered, and torn,” said Percy.

“If it’s nae guid enough fur ye, sur,” said the owner loftily, “ah feel sure y’ll bi able tae find a superior wan in Inverness.” Percy gave in, having discovered the true meaning of the word canny, and handed over seven ten-pound notes. The proprietor promised that he woul

d have it taken down from the roof before Percy left the following morning.

After such an exhausting day, Percy felt he had earned a rest, but he still had one more task to fulfill before he could retire to bed.

At supper in the three-table dining room, the head waiter (the only waiter) told Percy the name of the man who could solve his final problem, and exactly where he would be located at that time of night. After cleaning his teeth (he always cleaned his teeth after a meal), Percy made his way down to the harbor in search of the Fisherman’s Arms. He tapped his jacket pocket to check he hadn’t forgotten his wallet and the all-important map.

When Percy entered the pub he received some curious stares from the locals, who didn’t approve of stray Englishmen invading their territory. He spotted the man he was looking for seated in a far corner, playing dominoes with three younger men, and made his way slowly across the room, every eye following him, until he came to a halt in front of a squat, bearded man dressed in a thick blue sweater and salt-encrusted jeans.

The man looked up and gave the stranger who had dared to interrupt his game an unwelcoming gaze.

“Are you Captain Campbell?” Percy inquired.

“Who wants tae ken?” asked the bearded man suspiciously.

“My name is Forsdyke,” said Percy, and then, to the astonishment of everyone in the pub, delivered a short, well-rehearsed speech at the top of his voice.

When Percy came to the end, the bearded man placed his double four reluctantly back on the table and, in a brogue that Percy could just about decipher, asked, “An wur exactly dae ye expect mi tae tak’ ye?”

Percy opened his map and spread it out on the table, propelling dominoes in every direction. He then placed a finger in the middle of the North Sea. Four pairs of eyes looked down in disbelief. The captain shook his head, repeating the words “Nae possible” several times, until Percy mentioned the figure of five hundred pounds. All four of the men seated round the table suddenly took a far greater interest in the Englishman’s preposterous proposal. Captain Campbell then began a conversation with his colleagues that no one south of Inverness would have been able to follow without a translator. He finally looked up and said, “Ah want a hundred pound up front, noo, an’ the ether four hundred afore ah let ye oan ma boat.”

Percy extracted five twenty-pound notes from his wallet and handed them across to the captain, who smiled for the first time since they’d met. “Bi stannin’ on the dockside ae Bonnie Belle at five tamorra moarnin’,” said Campbell as he distributed the cash among his mates. “Once I have the ether four hundred, I’ll tak’ ye to your island.”

Percy was standing on the quayside long before five the following morning, an overnight bag, his battered old school trunk, and a ten-foot pole at his feet. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, white shirt, his old school tie, and was carrying a rolled umbrella. Standard FCO kit when one is posted to some foreign field. He braced himself against the biting wind as he waited for the captain to appear. He felt both exhilarated and terrified at the same time.

He turned his attention to the little fishing vessel he’d chartered for this expedition, and wondered if it had ever ventured outside territorial waters, let alone into the middle of the North Sea. For a moment he considered returning to his hotel and abandoning the whole exercise, but the vision of his father and grandfather standing on the dock beside him strengthened his resolve.

The captain and his three mates appeared out of the early morning mist at one minute to five. All four of them were dressed in exactly the same clothes they had been wearing the night before, making Percy wonder if they’d come straight from the Fisherman’s Arms. Was it a seafarer’s gait they displayed as they strolled toward him, or had they spent his hundred pounds on what the Scots are most celebrated for?

The captain gave Percy a mock salute, and thrust out his hand. Percy was about to shake it, when he realized that it was being held palm upward. He handed over four hundred pounds, and Captain Campbell ordered his crew to carry Percy’s luggage on board. Two of the young men were clearly surprised by how heavy the trunk was. Percy followed them up the gangway, clinging onto the pole, which never left his side, even when he joined the captain on the bridge.

The captain studied several oceanographic charts before confirming the exact location at which Percy had asked to be abandoned and then gave the order to cast off. “Ah think it’ll tak’ us at least a day an’ a night afore wi reach oor destination,” said the captain, “so perhaps, laddie, it might bi wise fur ye tae lay doon. The waves cin bi a wee bit choppy wance wi leave the shelter ae the harbor.”