Читать книгу Into the Abyss. Diving to Adventure in the Liquid World онлайн

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On another occasion our club had three boats out to sea from Gardenstown for a Sunday dive. As we arrived back at the harbour after the dive, just as I was jumping out of my Aberglen as we nudged up to the slip, a large splinter exploded off the side of a wooden creel boat tied up alongside. This was followed almost simultaneously by the crack of a rifle report. Our group had been shot at from the steep brae and houses above the harbour.

I reported the matter to the local police in the nearest large town some miles away but found that they were not interested in investigating the incident. No police officer bothered to come to see me about my formal complaint about being shot at. Perhaps they agreed we shouldn’t be diving there on the Sabbath as well.

Gardenstown itself is an idyllic, old fishing village. It is steeped in the sea and originally sprang up as a cluster of fisherman’s cottages gathered around a favourable harbour site at the bottom of a steep, long hill, which shielded the houses from southerly and westerly winds. As is common with many of the fisher houses along the north-east coast, many of the houses were built gable end on to the sea. This presented the smallest possible profile to the harsh northerly sea winds, which tried to strip the precious heat from the very stones with which they were built.