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Updated: June 28, 2025
We made a slaughter o' them and smoke-cured the flesh for the harnish casks the Frenchmen are the clever ones at that work 'boucan, they would be saying; and, man, it aye minded me o' a bochan wi' the smoke and that"; and I was thinking while Angus McKinnon was speaking of the wee black huts that our folk will be calling bochans to this day, and wondering if the French had put that name on them, for smoky they are indeed.
And in a while there came the soft noise of muffled oars, a sound very faint that will be stirring the blood of a man, and a little knot of folk gathered round the barrels on the beach. "That will be the boats now," said Dan McBride. "It will be all quiet," said Ronald McKinnon, "and Gilchrist will not be having his new hoose yet for a wee."
The scad of light from the door and the two lanterns lit up the yellow trampled glaur, and both the boys stripped in silence and stood on guard, and then started. McGilp and McKinnon and the McKelvies were there only, and if these had not been my own boys I could have enjoyed the business, for they were matched to a hair, and tireless as tigers.
"By God, if I could only get that Ronny McKinnon under my bonny blue hanger," said Gilchrist, the ganger that had the soft side for Mirren Stuart. "One good prog wid pay for this night's daftness," growled his leader, and again came Gilchrist's voice "Was I tae ken McKinnon was ootside Finlay Stuart's and a dozen o' ye in the kitchen."
"Do you think I would be caring, Bryde, if he ran off if you were left with me?" Ah, she was brave in her loving, was the Flower of Nourn. Mirren McKinnon, that was once Mirren Stuart, was dowie that day, and her eyes red with greeting, for her son had gone to the sea, as his father had long ago.
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