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| 14. Wee Man McCann goes walkies. Part 1. |
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On Magee's Island, on the first Tuesday of every March, Wee Man McCann and his old soldier friends took their cats out for a walk...on leads!
Always the same route: from the lighthouse, past the wartime lookout turret on the hilltop, all the way to the coastguard cottages, then down across the fields to the mucky old smugglers' port.
No one knew how or when the tradition started. It was just something old soldiers did.
Magee's Island is a clump of land about ten miles north of Rockfergus. It isn't ACTUALLY an island anymore - not since the smugglers built a rickety old road out to it hundreds of years ago.
Last weeks storm, however, had damaged the roadside wall and nobody had bothered to fix it yet. So twice a day, at high tide, the road was back under the sea.
It was on the final part of the journey that it all started to go wrong.
They stopped off for refreshments at Earl's restaurant - the stately home that once belonged to Earl Magee, landlord of the island.
The cats were all tied up outside, in the shade of a huge tree, a saucer of milk for each one. And, it being the first Tuesday in March, every dog in the area was kept indoors. But today, there was a stray; a white terrier type of stray who just hated cats!
And suddenly the noise outside Earl's was like something from the old soldiers' wartime past. Screaming and screeching. Clawing and scratching. Fur flying and saucers smashing.
Wee Man McCann bolted outside with his friends. He caught hold of the dog's collar and held it tight, while the others untangled all the leads.
The cats took off in different directions.
'Oops, sorry!' called a strange voice.
The stranger was a visitor to Magee's Island - a 'daytripper' who had no idea the locals walked their cats on the first Tuesday in March.
The white terrier heard its master's voice and leapt over a fallen chair, sending Wee Man McCann crashing into a tree trunk.
Wee Man McCann felt the dog tug, and nothing else until he woke several minutes later.
There was only himself, the stranger, and the white terrier. Everyone else had gone in search of the missing cats. They'd be away for some time.
He let out a quiet moan, and drifted off again.
***
Fergus was helping Professor Dunlambert with her golf swing. She'd sliced so many shots over the castle wall that she really was a danger to shipping, and low flying aircraft!
'Turn your left shoulder slightly, and bring your head forward,' Fergus instructed.
Whack! Straight down the middle it went, landing only a short putt from the hole.
'Yipeee!!!' She yelled. 'Fergus, you're a genius, let's do another.'
Uncle Sid yawned. 'GENIUS MY LEFT EAR!' he thought.
Then suddenly he howled, and two seconds later the police-car-chasing-the-helicopter sound filled the castle again.
Beatrice's lights flashed.
Professor Dunlambert had no time for another shot.
'OK guys, let's get it right this time!'
She reached into the boot of the Beetle, while Ben strapped the backpack onto Fergus.
She punched the details into the computer, then ran the sat-nav specs across it. The computer beeped.
She rushed to the launch pad and placed them carefully on Fergus.
She pressed the buttons to activate the camera and the earpiece.
'What is it this time?' asked Fergus, as Ben fastened the helmet.
'Earl's restaurant out on Magee's Island. Some old bloke's been knocked unconscious.'
She took three steps back. Uncle Sid stood with the chain in his mouth, waiting for the command.
Ben took three steps back. 'Pull!' he ordered.
The dog pulled the chain and the screen came up. Ben took the piece of magic stone from behind the wall plaque. He set it into the new elastic firing band.
Professor Dunlambert made a final systems check.
'Five, four, three, two, one...release!'
Ben let go of the band. The stone hurtled through the small hole in the screen and struck the backpack beautifully on target.
There was an almighty BOOOOM! followed by a ferocious WHOOOOSH!
The clear screen instantly became multi-coloured, but not a drop of juice escaped beyond it. They looked skyward, and saw Fergus disappear into the distance.
Ben and the professor cheered. Uncle Sid barked. High-fives all round.
'So what's the delay with the paramedics then Prof?' asked Ben.
'It's something to do with high tide, and a damaged road. The ambulance has no way out to the island.'
They made for the Beetle. The professor flicked a switch and the monitor lit up. A bit fuzzy, at first, and then the picture settled.
They could see everything Fergus could see: the countryside rolling by underneath, occasional clouds, and even the damaged road covered by the high tide. The stranded ambulance, too, with Pete and Sean standing by helplessly.
Curiously, there were a lot of cats running around the island trailing what looked like leads behind them.
Fergus followed the sat-nav's instructions exactly.
'You have reached your destination,' the polite voice advised him.
He looked down, and, sure enough, there was Wee Man McCann lying on the ground by the tree. He knew the old soldier had been knocked out, but even from this high up, the strange shape of his leg suggested it was pretty badly broken too.
He swooped down towards the lawn at the front of the restaurant. He glided in the direction of his patient, using his wings as brakes. He touched down without stopping, and had no choice but to go the last few metres on foot. And that was when he discovered that his own legs were still on the wrong way round; it seemed even the most gifted doctor in all of Ireland hadn't been able to sort THAT problem out.
And, as hard as he tried, he managed only to stumble, trip and roll...right into Wee Man McCann, sending the poor man's own - rather strange looking - leg in through the restaurant door.
The stranger gasped. Fergus took a sharp breath in, and held it.
They looked at Wee Man McCann. He was coming around again, moaning about his sore head. No mention of his leg.
The black terrier stepped out of the shop...with Wee Man McCann's leg in its mouth!
Fergus and the stranger sighed with relief. It was wooden - from his war days, probably.
Fergus heard a sigh in his ear; the professor was relieved, too.
'Right Fergus,' she said, 'forget the leg thing and concentrate on his head. You know what to do. It's all yours!'
The Fire and Rescue Service had been alerted. They had a special blow-up boat that could take the paramedics by sea to the mucky old smugglers' port in about ten minutes. The problem then, was getting up the hill to Earl's restaurant - quite a trek.
Luckily Jake McFerris - the local police sergeant - had stayed at home today, on account of it being the first Tuesday in March, with the cats, and the old soldiers thing. And luckier still, he had a big Landrover that could fit two paramedics and four firefighters. Jake could pick them up at the port and bring them to Earl's.
Wee Man McCann was still very drowsy. He remembered nothing about cats, or leads, or black terriers.
Fergus held his head and neck steady, exactly where he found him lying on the grass.
'Can you even tell me what day it is, Mr McCann?' he asked.
But the Wee Man wasn't sure. He thought the answer might be twenty-seven and a quarter. Not a good sign!
Still, at least he was breathing, and there was no bleeding - well, not on the outside anyway.
The stranger took over holding Wee Man McCann's head. Fergus ran his wings firmly, but gently, over his body, without moving him.
He had no pains anywhere other than his head. But then again, he still thought today was twenty-seven and a quarter, so Fergus couldn't be sure. And since he'd hit the tree hard enough to knock himself out, there was always the chance he had actually damaged his neck too.
The best thing now, was to keep the patient warm, reassure him help was on its way, and keep him as still as possible.
Fergus heard the sound of Jake's diesel engine, rattling up through the village towards Earl's.
***
At Stepminder Castle, the team were in a panic. The camera on Fergus' glasses had picked up the Landrover and its crew; paramedics, firefighters and a policeman - all the sort of people who just might have an interest in this particular little goose.
And Professor Dunlambert suddenly realised she'd overlooked one teeny-weeny matter:
HOW TO GET FERGUS AIRBORNE AGAIN FOR HIS FLIGHT BACK TO THE CASTLE...ESPECIALLY IF HE WAS IN A HURRY!
Find out if Fergus gets caught in the next BLOG...Wee Man McCann goes walkies. Part 2...coming very soon.
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