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Updated: June 19, 2025
John Whiteclett was the best of fellows, shrewd and level-headed and a first class officer, but somehow or other I felt small confidence in his getting the better of the cunning foe on Ransay. However, it was all that could be done now. My own part was finished and I had to confess I had failed ignominiously. Three weeks later I received this letter from my cousin: "My dear Roger,
"Not him!" said Mr. Scollay, "he bides in Ransay." I pricked up my ears at this, and my spy-hunt seemed suddenly a much more promising venture. Some of the difficulties of playing a lone hand had already become apparent.
Sitting in the stern I looked over my shoulder with very mixed feeling at the receding shores of the island of Ransay. It had baffled me, made a fool of me, nearly murdered me; but after all it had saved my life when the odds were a million to one against me, and it had crowded into that life the four most exciting days and nights I had ever spent.
Rendall's charge, there being no pubs in Ransay and many in the island he came from. I find that it is by no means unusual to send thirsty souls to publess isles, and beyond the fact that O'Brien came up very 'convanient' for this war and is pretty free with his tongue on the subject of England's sins and shortcomings, there is really nothing positive against the man.
Possibly he may have fluked upon the remedy by removing O'Brien, and if the island of Ransay gives no more trouble for the rest of this war, it will certainly look as though he had. But in that case he will have been uncommon lucky, because he seems to me to have overlooked or dismissed practically everything significant. Take, for instance, the actual words used by my oilskinned friend.
But Ransay is not one of the suspected islands, and your friend in oilskins doesn't fit into anything I happen to have heard from other sources." "Look here," I said, "what's the good of being cousins if we aren't candid? Do you or don't you believe me?" John Whiteclett looked at me very steadily and spoke in his most deliberate accents. "I believe that you believe every word of it.
A real spy seen and heard actually living in the Isle of Ransay, in the back premises, so to speak, of that all important base, with Heaven only knew what means of the information concerning matters to the south'ard, and in immediate touch with any marauders who might tap gently at the back door on a dark night; here was something to sober even a bankrupt ex-light-comedian.
Rendall and the island of Ransay?" I enquired. "I have thought over that point very carefully, Roger, and I think the best plan will be to take Sir James a little more into my confidence and get him to write a personal letter to Dr. Rendall. He will do it if I assure him it is for his country's sake, and his name will lull all suspicions."
"As I promised I am sending you a chit to tell you the result of our enquiry into the Ransay mystery. Of course you will understand that this is strictly for your own eye and mustn't be talked about. "Well, I wanted to leave no stone unturned to get at the bottom of the affair so we got up a pukka detective from London, a man named Bolton, said to be a first class fellow at the job.
But I wonder very much whether any possible reader of this account, given what I knew up to this point, can honestly say that he would have put that question? Well, I got home and sat down to high tea with Dr. Rendall, and of course he began to talk of the Uruguay's visit. Even if nothing else had happened afterwards, such an event would have given Ransay food for several days' conversation.
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