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.
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.