(By J. W. B. Laing)

Hamish and James were good pals, of that there was no doubt. They were of that wonderful age of adventure and the excitement of visions of buried treasure, secret panels, unexplored caves and other childhood pastimes filling their minds and days. The day of ‘Iron Ring’ was one neither of them would soon forget.

The closing of a summer's evening found them both sitting on Hamish’s low, front garden wall, kicking the dirt with the toe of their strong black boots, facing the road and the village Green. They were trying to think of something interesting to do the following day, which was Saturday…all Saturdays had to have an adventure.

The evening sun was hidden behind the tall sheltering trees that surrounded St. Machar’s church and cemetery at the western end of the Green. The warm air was still and filled with the tranquil scent of lilac, honey-suckle and pine trees…not conducive to dreaming up new and exciting adventures.

In exasperation, they finally decided they'd clear out the sloping, overgrown, terraced garden at the rear of the School House where Hamish lived; his father was the headmaster of the century old school that sat about two hundred yards from the house, across the Green. The School House, a two-storied, granite building with steep, sloping slated roofs with gabled windows that sparkled in the evening sunlight, was just as old as the school, and had a comfortable 'old world' charm with all the ‘new world’ benefits of inside plumbing, electricity and such. It had a fairly large, rambling, series of neat terraced gardens of which the front, both sides and a portion of the back, that were sectioned off and considered suitable for domestic use.

The part of the garden that Hamish and James decided to clear was, without a doubt, not domestically suitable and was situated at the extreme rear section of the property. This area was also terraced, but overgrown with a variety of impassable wild bushes, trees of all types and sizes, and weeds that were firmly entrenched, refusing to be moved without a considerable amount of violence on the part of the duo. The area just had to be cleared, since it obstructed the view of a recetly harvested and corn stubbled field and the River Dee from their ‘Headquarters’ that they’d just finished building. All this was absolutely necessary for them to be able to watch for unwelcome raiders, river pirates, or other evil doers who might be about to assault their fortified compound.

The ‘Headquarters,’ or hut, was a rather odd looking structure. It comprised of four walls: a pane of glass, taken from an old picture frame, filling a space sawn out of the wall facing the river for a window that didn’t open. It had a door that barely closed with mismatched hinges. Also sloping roof covered with odd sized, tarred shingles that would probably leak at the first drop of rain. Not to mention a raised, wood plank floor that shimmied ominously…along with the rest of the hut when you stepped inside. The entire structure was crafted from odds and ends of boards; some still with the bark on them, that they’d scrounged from the local sawmill. It was held together by about fifty pounds of nails of various sizes. With so much twisted metal from misdirected hammers, it would probably be more likely to attract lightening before the lightning rod, atop the nearby steeple of the Free Church of Scotland, would…but it was their hut and hence, ‘Headquarters,’ a necessity that started the whole adventure.

It took them several days to complete the clearing of the ‘Woods’, as they so named the new, bright and airy unused part of the terraced back garden. Hamish’s father had stopped them dead in their tracks, just as they were about to assault one of the larger trees with their saws. But he did heap praise upon them for the rest of their work…and, with some misgivings, their hut, all of which instilled in them a glow of pride in their achievement.

Now that they could spy the land and the river, they felt that their magnificent construction effort deserved a more appropriate and dignified path to its door. They figured that if they dug down through the dirt a few inches, they would at least hit hard packed clay or something that would be substantially more suitable for the purpose.

They dug and scraped for hours, until they’d managed to created a ditch that ended up about a foot deep, two feet wide and about four feet long, leading away from the hut to the central pathway. Sweating and covered with dirt, they paused and finally realized they weren’t doing too well with their path building, and came to the conclusion that they'd better refill the ‘ditch’ before Hamish’s father came home. Growing tired of the whole thing, they replaced their diggings. They decided that, maybe all they really need do, was just rake a bit off the top surface of the soil on the existing path which spanned the entire length of the terrace, away from the hut to an old and unused storage shed hidden at the far end. This path crossed the main sloping pathway, with its periodic and old stone steps, that led down from the School House laundry green to the bottom of the newly cleared ‘Woods’ and on to the river.

When they’d cleared their path to the point where it crossed the one from the upper garden...Hamish’s rake suddenly hit solid metal. Excitement rising, they got on their hands and knees and with screwdrivers, hammers and bits of board, feverishly dug away the ancient, impacted earth covering their great discovery…a buried treasure, perhaps. To their dismay, their treaure turned out to be a large iron ring. Thoughts of a hidden treasure trove, or at least a mysterious and secret tunnel, raced through their minds.

When they’d cleared off the impacted dirt from their find, they looked in awe at a circular stone slab with a rusty iron ring laying flat in its center. Unable to contain their excitement, they struggled relentlessly, with hammers and unfortunate screwdrivers that were never meant for excavations, for almost an hour to release the unforgiving grip of the iron ring, and the slab. They knew they had to act quickly before Hamish’s father found out about it. He would, no doubt, ruin everything by forbidding them to proceed further until he had someone in authority to establish what their discovery was. Having that done to them would be an outrageous, unforgivable and unacceptable act.

In what seemed an eternity, they managed to heave, tug and pull at the slab and its ring until it slowly surrendered to the determination and cursing of its attackers, and grated noisily about a foot from its seating. Unable to allow patience prevail, they scrambled with bated breath to see what was under the slab that now revealed to them, the edge of a dark, almost black, hole going straight down to…who knew where. With considerable more sweat, determination and the scraping of knuckles on stone, the now extremely excited adventurers finally succeeded in moving the stone slab with its iron ring clear of what appeared to them to be a secret tunnel, the only thing they’d allow their immaginative minds' to recognise in their mental menu of adventurous items.

Cautiously, they peered down the dark, ominous opening, noting that its circular sides were lined with rounded stones, obviously taken from the river. Being unable to see down into the deep darkness, Hamish ran back to the house to get a flashlight. While he was gone, James dropped a small stone down the shaft which suddenly emitted a ‘plop’ telling him there was water at the bottom.

Hamish soon returned with the flashlight, happily stating that his parents were not yet home. When they shone the light down the hole, it reflected on the water James had noted, and illuminated the sides of the twenty-foot deep shaft. To their delight, they spotted a large opening on either side, just above the water level. Again, thoughts of secret tunnels raced through their minds. What wonders would they find…a secret tunnel to the house perhaps? James couldn’t stand it any longer...he just had to get down there.

Hamish ran back to the garage, which was located apart from the west side of the house, to get a good solid rope he’d seen coiled in a corner. On his breathless return, they checked the strength of the rope, and the width of the hole which was just wide enough for someone to pass through. James, being a skinny young lad and Hamish being stocky with more meat on his bones, it was James who tied the rope around his waist and dangled his feet over the edge of the shaft.

With the sides of the shaft being lined with stones, there were lots of footholds, so he gingerly eased himself over the edge and into the mysterious depths. He’d taken the flashlight with him and he slowly inched downward while Hamish held onto the other end of the rope to make sure James wouldn’t slip and fall into the unknown… never to be seen again.

James had only advanced about four feet down the shaft when he halted his descent, deciding to use the flashlight to get a better view of the two openings. Suddenly, to his horror, he noticed a large white creature with huge, fierce and fiery red eyes climbing up the wall towards him.

Up on top, Hamish heard a hideous scream coming from the shaft, followed by a hysterical voice pleading, "Hamish...get me tae hell outa here...quick." Spluttering, gasping for air and shaking with fear, James shot out of the shaft like a missile and ran, non-stop, up the garden steps to the next terrace above them. Hamish sped close behind, holding on to the rope that was still attached to James, not knowing what he was running from.

After the initial shock had eased, James gaspingly, related to Hamish what he’d seen (the creature had grown considerably in size and ferocity as the vision was described several times.) They both kept their distance, waiting to see if the ‘Thing’ would show its ugly monster head above the edge of the shaft…they were ready to run like hell if it did.

When nothing happened and only the sounds of their heavy breathing, the birds and a breeze wafting through the trees, was heard. They slowly crept back to their mysterious find...the monster was no where in sight. With great disappointment, they dejectedly established that it had to be just an old well, one that had provided fresh water for the house before plumbing and running water was installed many years after the house was built.

Upon nervously and carefully peering over the edge of the well, they saw no sign of the monster. Not wanting the creature to come out, roam the garden and possibly enter the house at night, they quickly, much quicker than it took them to remove it, strenuously hauled the stone slab back over the well where it clunked into it’s old seating. Thus trapping the 'monster' until it could be quickly disposed of, allowing their further exploration.

When they told Hamish’s father about the well and it’s contents, much to their chagrin, he informed them that what they’d seen was probably just a large white rat. He forbade them to go near that part of the garden again…even to their ‘Headquarters,’ until such time as the well was checked out. To this they begrudgingly acquiesced.

That ‘forbidden’ week, they spent on the nearby, famous Dinnet moor, exploring all its hidden glens and mysterious caves.

When the ‘forbidden’ area was finally declared safe, they were allowed to go back to ‘The Woods’ and their ‘Headquarters’. On that first day, they dashed to see what had happened to their discovery only to find, in dismay, that the slab covering the well had been removed and was now replaced with a smooth surface of finished cement. The well had been filled with crushed stones and sealed forever with concrete, their secret tunnels hidden forever. James wasn’t too disturbed about that, having had several nightmares of his huge, white monster with the fierce, fiery red eyes, climbing the walls of the well, coming to get him.

The summer, being at its height, the episode of the well with its iron ring was soon relegated to their storage of memorable adventures. But it not forgotten, as the two intrepid adventurers drifted off to the excitement and anticipation of building a raft with which to explore unknown and foreign lands along the River Dee.

Yes...Hamish and James were good pals in those days when they were both going on eleven.

Copyright 2000 JWBLaing. All rights reserved

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