Saturday, 27 September 2008 13:00

Piscatorial Companion


Source: Steve Sheppard at Anglers Gifts

Now you may think from my title a friend to go fishing with well you are wrong. This is a story going back to a time when men were men, adventure, danger, excitement, was the watch word of the day for the young aristocratic gentleman bent on experiencing all life has to offer. There were many wild untamed parts in the British Isles in those days none more so than the remote lochs and little known streams of Bonnie Scotland.

Travelling to these areas was slow, using the mail coach for part of the journey, then difficult travelling by horseback on unmade roads and tracks, and full of hazards highway men, ruffians, and thugs, so a young gentleman seeking the tranquillity and excitement of fishing these unknown corners of nature would need to be prepared for anything.

A piscatorial companion would have been invaluable, in this case a four shot pepperbox pistol, small easy to carry, powerful enough to be effective.

Imagine you have travelled for weeks stopped in rough roadside taverns eaten the rustic basic fare and at last you are standing on the edge of that picturesque secluded loch you have dreamed of, anticipating the sport those deep dark waters will yield. You set up rod and line make your first cast full of anticipation at the sport to come, your pleasure is short lived however when a huge kilted scruffy menacing ruffian brandishing a large sword appears before you.

Ge-us ya pus yo blithering Sassenach or I’ll split ye from ear to spleen!!! (translation - give me your purse you indolent foreigner or I will do you a rather nasty injury.)

Well now hears a dilemma, so you smile at the ruffian reach slowly as if to retrieve your purse from your fishing basket but actually bring out your companion and before your assailant can raise his sword to strike, you put a heart stopping ball of lead into his massive frame that brings him crashing to the ground.

So after that annoying little incident you get on with your pleasant days fishing secure in the knowledge that you still have three loaded barrels should his friends turn up.

That night in the rough tavern in which you are lodging during a supper of fresh trout and a tankard or two of ale you overhear a conversation between two scruffy undesirable looking battle scarred villains (English version) Have you seen Hamish? One asks of the other, no he replies last I saw of him he was heading for the loch said he had a money making idea, at that you feel it prudent to finish your supper and with a stiff tot of whisky retire to bed.

Once there your companion can be cleaned reloaded and kept near your pillow, you can then rest easy content in the knowledge that next morning you will be miles away from there and who knows what adventures you and your companion will encounter.


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