There was the usual confused flurry as they trundled boats to the pontoon and set off, then once the last set of red sails had made it past the wind-shadow of the marina entrance, we led them up the voe. We started towards Busta, went around one of the mooring buoys there, zig-zagged back towards Weathersta, across to Muckle Roe, and back to the near corner of Linga. I steered, Gavin sat upright on the port side, looking forward, hair lifting in the wind, and Magnie settled comfortably on starboard, booted feet stretched across the boat. We dropped the anchor just off the north end of Linga. I cut our engine, then turned side-saddle on the padded seat. A hundred yards behind us, Alex had his boat nicely balanced, but all the others were either sailing too close to the wind, or miles off it. I leaned over the side of the rescue boat and let the wind carry my voice back to them. ‘Kevin, Ali, you’re both pinching. Come off the wind a touch.’ They obeyed; I did a thumbs-up.
What do You think about The Trowie Mound Murders (2014)?
