He had worked on the Solway for more than 15 years since leaving the Antrim coast in 1903. As head of the family, it was his duty to work long hours in the wet and windy conditions to bring in the catch and help mend the nets. He missed Ballycastle and the trips to Rathlin, but there was more work to be had here. Besides, he had to provide for his wife, with two children and a third on the way. So he put aside his adverse feelings about the muddy, estuarine Solway and got on with the work. The head man Mr McArthur was firm but fair and didn't take objection to his Irishness like some locals did. Maybe he could make a good life here after all.

Mr McArthur 

It had been his idea to get the men to pose for a photograph by the nets. McArthur was proud of his men and it was an opportunity for them to be part of lantern slide shows in London, Norwich and the like. He had the experience to know that such things were possible. But today was also an opportunity to take a salmon home for Eleanor. She was a fine wife and a useful cook. He loved it when she cooked the top loin of the fish in butter and herbs and served it with local new potatoes. There might even be some Kale left to serve on the side. Such food reminded him of his younger days in Campbeltown when his own father worked in the Drumlemble mine and came home for a hot bath and his fish dinner. But being out on the Solway was better than being down a mine.

Born and raised in Eastriggs, Hugh knew the salmon stretches of the Solway well. He let the other men take the lead on catching, he specialised in repairing and restoring the nets. Hi careful hands moved the wooden shuttle in and out and round, working magic as it went. He often brought his dog Dougall with him, but it had recently developed a poisonous boil so was resting back at the farmhouse. His sons would be tending the lambs and making sure the dog was comfortable. It was just the four of them these days, his wife had passed with a heavy bout of pneumonia five winters ago. He missed her but was now on the lookout for a new woman to run his home. There were a couple of eligible ladies at the fish market for sure.

He bloody well hated McArthur he did, often swearing under his breath in his native Gaelic. He'd come down from South Uist with the promise of his own team of men, only to find McArthur was still boss. Domnall was impatient and cocksure, ambition burned in his belly and he wanted to assume control. In the early days he stood up to McArthur, but now had settled into a routine of playing the long game. He'd been cultivating friendships with the main fishmongers and buyers, sowing the seeds for a time when he'd be leading this Solway team. He already had the hat, he had that look of importance. He just needed time. So he contented himself by smuggling the occasional salmon home. It was his way of undermining McArthurs authority.

An Ayrshire man, Wullie had come to the Solway after the death of his father. His family were farmers, but a bull had attacked his father. The first twist of the horns tore open his shirt and drew blood. The second cut pierced his heart. And that was that. A funeral. A graveside eulogy. And a move down to Annandale in 1910. He'd met Jean as a local barn dance and married her soon after. Now they had four children and a small-holding, he was happy. He knew of the tensions between Domnall and Mr McArthur, so he tried to play the peacemaker. Since he lost his father, he realised life was too short to waste it on arguments or feuds. But neither man really paid much heed to his words, so he just got on with the catch.

He had been too young to go to the Great War. So he'd joined the team as an apprentice to the salmon catchers instead, replacing Stuart who had gone off to Passchendale. That was five years ago and although more experienced now, he was still the youngest, picking up the tasks that no-one else wanted; washing the nets, sweeping the scales off the big stones and gutting the fish. One day he'd become a net mender, till then he bided his time. Besides he had his interest in training ponies up near Annan. He'd built a stable of eight fine ponies and showed them regularly at agricultural fairs. So if the salmon became scarce for a few seasons, he'd still have that to fall back on. He could set-up a stud and sell the best. He had dreams away from the firth.

Sandy Wilkie

Spring 2022