Our visitors departed at four o’clock for Oban by the S.S. King George V, and once the vessel had slid from the pier, the Crew turned away saying it was not lucky to stand and wave. Perhaps it is not very easy, when you are sorry to see good friends going.

So I tried to get hold of the mechanic who had been recommended to me, and, by one of the coincidences that are stranger than fiction, discovered it was he who had sold the Thistle to the man from whom I had bought her in Skye. Incidentally I found out a great deal more, in particular the date of the sale, the price paid, and the age of some of the gear. I felt a bit of a fool. Though, after all, I had no one to blame but myself, for I could have checked up details before concluding my bargain. But that would have been tedious, and life is short.

The engineer and I spent a day and a half on the engine. He was trained in a Glasgow engineering shop, and it was interesting to see how he set about the work. What had been done and what had not been done were made perfectly clear. He remembered the very bolts he himself had put in and demonstrated how they had been misplaced. The chain on the reverse gear was so stretched that it was inclined to hit the casing. He had a good second-hand chain, and in his workshop he made a bolt for it, threaded the bolt, holed it for a splitpin, and fitted the lot satisfactorily. With rusted bolts, he had a slow persuasive way, and they all obeyed him. Our ultimate fear was the discovery of a broken ball race, for in such a case we should undoubtedly be held up for many days, as Glasgow was our nearest depot.

At the end of ten hours’ concentrated labour on that first day, with most of the engine adrift, we discovered that the terrific machine-gun racket which had heralded our arrival had been caused by the flywheel hitting a small projecting part of the tin pan underneath it and could have been put right by a decent kick!

However, we also discovered so many things done badly that the long labour was worth while. I was feeling pretty tired from the continuous cramped stooping, and, on tightening the coupling bolts of the shaft, let the spanner slip under strain, and so came full tilt against the engine, splitting a temple and piercing my left ear. After a time I got the bleeding stopped and felt that now that the brute had had blood, she might behave more reasonably. On the trial trip, the following afternoon, she again stopped suddenly on coming to anchor. The engineer took the pilot jet adrift and underneath the gauze found the accumulated dirt of years. No wonder slow-running had been difficult!

I paid my bill with pleasure, and would suggest to any yachtsman in trouble with his engine in Tobermory that he need not despair so long as Mr. Ogilvy is there to assist him. With sufficient time and scrap, he might even build him a new one!