The Old Jetty.

 

It was the last day of his holiday and the young man standing on the old jetty was blissfully unaware of the turmoil that was about to happen.
      All the others were back at the holiday cottage that had been ‘home’ for the past two weeks. His mother and father were busy packing their bags and cases, putting everything but those few items that were needed on the journey home, into the boot of the car.
The brisk wind was causing the waves to break beneath him, a combination that produced a considerable amount of noise. But still he heard his sister shouting.
      “John.” He heard her call from the track leading from the tiny harbour on the loch side, past their cottage, and on to the village.
      “John.” she called again, but this time she was nearer and he could no longer pretend not to hear her.
      “What’s up Jackie?” He shouted back.
      “Dad say’s that you must pack your case; that’s what’s up.”
      “Tell him it’s already packed.”
      “OK, but don’t be long. We’ll be off in half an hour.”
      “We may never be here again; I want to stay as long as possible.”
      “OK, but don’t be long.” Jackie repeated, emphasising ‘don’t’.
      John was Seventeen and this had been his first visit to Scotland and he had been enthralled. His parents had deliberately chosen this place for the holiday, thinking that it might be their last holiday together as a family. It was a remote spot close to small village in the rugged north west of the country. His final year at school was imminent and was looking forward to university, and being very bright he was optimistic of being accepted at Cambridge. His sister Jackie, just a year behind him was equally optimistic that she would follow him.
      It was a clear morning and John was transfixed by the view of the mountains beyond the loch and the broken, ever changing image of their reflection; an image he wanted to stay in his memory forever. The so called harbour was in reality an inlet on the rocky shore, providing an outlet for a small but fast moving river. The inlet went back little more than a hundred yards before it ended with a small gravelly slope on which a dozen or so boats were beached. Looking to the loch the seawall was on the left while on the other side the little beech, a good stone’s throw from him, where the little river quickly emptied itself into the loch as though it was glad to be relived of its burden.
      May many years before on the seaward side of the bay the harbour wall had been hewn from the rock itself and the stone removed had been used as a base to extend the wall into the deeper water, a protection against the surge of the incoming tide and the prevailing winds. At the end of the wall it had been further extended by a short wooden jetty, and it was to here that John had ventured, soaking up the atmosphere and wishing he could stay there forever.
      Time was nearly up and John moved near to the end to get one last view of the entire length of the loch, when it happened. A plank had become slightly raised by the creaking and groaning as the constant pressure from the ebbing and flowing tides, as they pursued their relentless rise and fall, made it’s mark. With the frequent storms adding to the strain, together they were bent on tearing the old jetty down. That it was still there was a miracle but it been little used for years and was virtually abandoned. No wonder that it had fared less well than the harbour wall which looked as though it would last for a thousand years.

      As he moved nearer the water Johns foot caught the loose plank throwing him against the wooden rail that marked the Jetty's very end. It had stood all that nature could throw it for all those years but the weight of a falling body proved to be the last straw. It snapped like matchwood falling into the deep water and John, unable to save himself, went with it. The tide had turned and the current was strong as the loch emptied itself into the sea some miles away. He was a good swimmer but the strong pull as the waters raced to the sea, and the intense cold was too much for him. Soon John resigned himself to his fate and stopped struggling as he was swept to a watery grave.
      Sometime later a fishing boat crew pulled a lifeless body from the water and laid it out on the deck. They could not have known how long this young man had been in the water, or that it was already too late. They pumped the water out of is body, wrapped him in blankets and foil, then one by one they laid with him transferring the heat of their bodies to his. Perhaps they were stubborn, perhaps they were just doing what seamen do, or perhaps they knew something different. Whatever it was new life was induced where earlier there had been none.

      By early dawn the following day the fishing boat moored by the harbour wall, and as John made his way the he cottage he saw his rescuers leaving the bay. Without a word and without seeking thanks or notoriety, they had slipped quietly away into what remained of the night. But they had given this young man his life back and returned him to his frantic family.

      His family of course knew none of this. John had simply vanished and the plan to return home was abandoned while searches were made by all available volunteers. By good fortune the cottage had not been booked for the following week so they were able to remain.

      When John emerged from his watery adventure, alive and well but visibly shaken medical attention was required. The nearest hospital was too far away and as the local doctor had agreed to call in every day it was decided that they should stay on for the rest of the week.

      John made a speedy recovery and as the week progressed word spread through the village of his remarkable escape from drowning and a number of the villagers called to give their best wishes. One such was an elderly man who, like most of the village men, had been a fisherman.
      “Here in this little harbour.” he told them. “Every day we headed for the open waters of the sea, and every evening we’d tie up by the wall. My father before me, 'I', and his father too.” John seemed at ease with this man and was able to speak of his ordeal, and spoke of how apt had been the name of the ship that saved him.
        “Lucky Lady.” he told him. “How weird was that,” he laughed. “She was certainly my lucky lady.”
        This local man, “Hamish.” he had introduced himself, asked John what he could remember, and his memory of that time was very clear. He was able to describe the crew members in remarkable detail, and likewise the boat itself. Hamish seemed quietly satisfied and after a little more conversation bade them farewell.
      Came the last day of their extended holiday, and preparation were being made for an early start the following day. The local Doctor had been as good as his word and had visited John every day.
      “He’s made a truly remarkable recovery and there is no reason for you not to go home tomorrow.” he told John’s parents and sister. All the packing was done; the car was ready and everyone settled down for an early night and a good night’s sleep. Everyone that is except John. He was ill at ease, restless and unable to sleep. In the early hours he got up and walked down the little lane to the old jetty.
      In the village someone else was pacing the floor, uncertain if he should speak up. About six o’clock he left his home and cycled to the holiday home. He was shocked to find, but not surprised, that the house was in uproar.
      “What is it?” he asked John’s father.
      “John’s missing.”
      Hamish knew the time had come and he could not back out now. “Come with me please, and bring your wife and daughter.” he told him. He had little doubt as to where John was, and led them to the old jetty. He began searching and eventually found a scrap of paper pinned on what remained of the collapsed rail. He read it quietly, but kept it in his hand.
      He turned to the family with the loch behind him with its magnificent backdrop of mountains reflected in the now still water. The sun was just rising above the mountain tops and a beautiful light prevailed.

      “I have something to tell you.” he began, but paused a while before he continued. “When John told us about the fishing boat that rescued him, he described it and the crew so well I think I knew then what was to happen.”
      “What did you know?” asked John’s mother tearfully.
      “You see, the Lucky Lady was my Father’s boat and the men that John described in such detail was him, and his crew.”
      “But that’ s wonderful,” said father. “Why didn’t you say before, I want to meet him.”
      It was a long time before Hamish could speak again and everyone was shocked to see the tears rolling down his face. “The lucky Lady was lost at sea thirty years ago. Neither it or its crew were ever found.”
       The earlier glimpse of hope was gone now, replaced by a shocked silence. Hamish handed over the note he had found to John’s father. He read it aloud.
           

             “Goodbye Mum, Goodbye Dad, Good bye Jackie.

             I am at piece now.

             Please try to find peace yourself; I love you all.”
     

      “But I don’t understand.” he said. “Why; he was so full of life.”
      “What can have happened?” Sobbed his wife.
      “The truth is,” Hamish said almost a whisper. “John did not survive when the rail collapsed. He drowned in the loch last week, and I’m afraid that is where he is now.”
      “But he was with us, all the week; how can it be?”
      No one spoke for a while but once again Hamish broke the silence. “I don’t know how, but before I left your house the other night John told me that he was never going to leave this place. I thought he was just expressing his love for the place.”
      “He had so much to live for.” spluttered Jackie through her tears.
      “But how do you know all this? asked John’s mother.
      “I don’t know,” Hamish repeated, “but something came to me in the night; a kind of a dream, but I knew it was more. You see, my father didn’t get the chance to tell his family that he loved them, but he gave John the chance to tell his loved ones and to say goodbye. Now he has done that he is at peace, and we know that he got his wish.

      “His wish? What do you mean?” asked his mother.

      Once more Hamish remained quiet for a moment or two, as if uncertain how to say what he had to say.

      “You see; when John and I were talking he told me that he never wanted to leave this place. I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now.” Hamish paused. “I thought, now I know,  he was trying to tell me that he was still in the water.”