5.17 Unexpected turns and a spark of hope
“Mr. Brown, Mr. Boyt, my partner Thomas Baxter and I would like to thank you heartily for the invitation on board!” ...
“Mr. Brown, Mr. Boyt, my partner Thomas Baxter and I would like to thank you heartily for the invitation on board!”
William Scott is sitting between Thomas Baxter and Simon Brown, together with the officers of the “Ocean Dream” before a richly-laid dinner table in the mess. Two days ago, on the 10th of September 1834, at 9 o’clock in the morning, the three-master sailed through the Firth of Forth into Leith harbour, tying up in front of the pier of Scott & Baxter, Wine & Spirit Merchants.
Simon and George Boyt speculated several times on what sort of person William Scott would be, in order to fit with the garrulous, friendly, and colourful Thomas Baxter. They were very astounded to be standing opposite this tall muscular blond man with his blue eyes. Even the first handshake in greeting made it clear to them that the Scotsman had to be a man of action. Compared to Thomas Baxter, his clothes were more decent and the individual pieces were coordinated with one another. His black knee-high boots were shining, which gave George Boyt the impression that William Scott surely must be married. He spoke much less than Thomas Baxter, but the words that he used were chosen precisely and his penetrative deep voice showed his counterpart that there was no room to manoeuvre.
Now William Scott pushes a piece of meat into his mouth with satisfaction, chews a few times on it, and washes it down with a mouthful of Chai de Bordes from Bordeaux. “You have a good cook here on board, gentlemen. I have to say that the roast lamb is poetic. And this Bordeaux wine goes excellently with it: the ripe dark berries combined with the elegant oak wood …” Scott turns to his partner, “Thomas, how many bottles of it have we bought today?”
“150 crates, William, Chai de Bordes Rouge.” Beaming, Baxter raises his glass and toasts the group.
“Excuse me, Mr. Baxter …” The captain places his glass back on the table after a big mouthful. “By now you already know a lot about us Americans. We would of course like to learn more about you.”
“Of course, Mr. Boyt. William and I have worked together now for more than twenty-five years. But we know one another much longer, I would say from the days of our childhood. You have to know, I grew up in Stirling and William in Bridge of Allan, only a few miles away from us.”
“When precisely we got to know one another, I can no longer say, but we were indeed still very young,” adds William Scott. “Our fathers became friends during their time with the pioneers in the British army, and the families later got to know each other as well,” Thomas Baxter throws in.
Scott nods. “My father later worked as a lead employee in one of the copper mines in Bridge of Allan. But when the last mine closed, things looked pretty grim. Fortunately, however, just a few years later, mineralized water was found, and thanks to Sir Robert Abercromby, Bridge of Allan was turned into a recreational and spa centre with thermal baths, and my father found work in the administration. Thomas and I always had our love of wine and whisky in common, and when he inherited part of a wine trading company from a distant uncle in Leith near Edinburgh, I joined as partner. Several years later, all the other shareholders were bought out, and Thomas and I became the sole owners of Scott & Baxter.”
“That’s how it was, gentlemen. In the past, William and I leased several caverns for which Leith is still known.”
“Caverns?” asks George Boyt, interested. “What are they?”
“Large underground hollow spaces in which we store young red wines mainly from France. They develop wonderfully through this type of storage. We also have very good contact to different whisky distilleries,” explains Thomas Baxter enthusiastically.
“Not to be forgotten are our excellent contacts to the British government and to the East India Company, as you were already able to discover personally, Mr. Brown,” adds William Scott. “That is mainly Thomas’s great service.”
Baxter has to grin. “I would not have been able to formulate it better, William.”
“With all the work, is there still time for private matters?” the first officer says, steering the conversation in another direction.
“But of course,” grins Thomas Baxter and throws Simon a slightly conspiratorial glance. “Ask Mr. Brown; he has already been able to see my abilities for himself.”
Simon cannot completely follow the Scotsman, which must be visible from his facial expression, because Baxter seems to feel called up to be more specific. “Brown, you remember it – on the morning when we wanted to go to the East India Company, you almost walked right into Lady Saunders and Walsh. I was just about able to rescue the embarrassing situation.”
“If you say so,” Simon answers curtly. He recalls the situation completely differently, but would prefer not to argue about it.
“Yes, you can indeed claim that Thomas Baxter is a hit with the women. They love my friendly, funny ways and my relaxed nature.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Baxter,” the first officer interjects again. “I actually just wanted to know if you are married …”
“I see, Mr. Bradshaw. No, I have had no time for that up until today. But my friend William is married and has been for a pretty long time. His wife is called Eleanor, comes from Stirling as well and is just as blond as William.” Thomas Baxter takes his wine glass, holds it up and calls, “A toast to women, without whom our lives would be bleak and desolate!”
After all the men have emptied their glasses, William Scott clears his throat and turns to Simon again with earnestness, “Now, Mr. Brown, you really want to accompany us on our ride into the Highlands?”
Simon nods enthusiastically. “But of course, Mr. Scott. I am very curious to see what awaits us there. My grandfather has already told me so much about the Highlands and its whisky. Where will the road take us?”
“First, we will set off by ship to Aberdeen tomorrow. From there, we will travel northwards to Huntly and Dufftown.”
“Who will accompany us, Mr. Scott? You will also certainly come along, Mr. Baxter?”
The man shakes his head theatrically. “For the love of God, that is not for me. I would not survive such exertions! Sitting in the saddle for days, the wet, the cold … simply terrible!”
William Scott laughs heartily and then confirms, “That really is not something for Thomas. While I love the Spartan life, for him it is the exact opposite. As you see, Mr. Brown, we compliment one another excellently. Well anyway, we will travel with two two-horse carriages and six armed men. You will get to know the men on the journey to Aberdeen. They are solid fellows.”
“Armed?” Simon exclaims, puzzled.
“Yes, the whisky transportation can be quite dangerous. With our ‘water of life’ or, as we call it here, uisge beatha a lot of money is made, and so we are an easy target in the lonely Highlands, where a robber can quickly vanish into nowhere,” explains William Scott, factually. “Before I forget, Mr. Brown: bring some warm clothing. The nights are very cold and it rains frequently … It is just Scotland.”
Peals of laughter fill the mess, and William Scott looks around befuddled, but then he understands what makes the men so cheerful and has to grin himself. “I forgot, I am sitting here with weather-tested sailors. Well then …”
William Scott is sitting between Thomas Baxter and Simon Brown, together with the officers of the “Ocean Dream” before a richly-laid dinner table in the mess. Two days ago, on the 10th of September 1834, at 9 o’clock in the morning, the three-master sailed through the Firth of Forth into Leith harbour, tying up in front of the pier of Scott & Baxter, Wine & Spirit Merchants.
Simon and George Boyt speculated several times on what sort of person William Scott would be, in order to fit with the garrulous, friendly, and colourful Thomas Baxter. They were very astounded to be standing opposite this tall muscular blond man with his blue eyes. Even the first handshake in greeting made it clear to them that the Scotsman had to be a man of action. Compared to Thomas Baxter, his clothes were more decent and the individual pieces were coordinated with one another. His black knee-high boots were shining, which gave George Boyt the impression that William Scott surely must be married. He spoke much less than Thomas Baxter, but the words that he used were chosen precisely and his penetrative deep voice showed his counterpart that there was no room to manoeuvre.
Now William Scott pushes a piece of meat into his mouth with satisfaction, chews a few times on it, and washes it down with a mouthful of Chai de Bordes from Bordeaux. “You have a good cook here on board, gentlemen. I have to say that the roast lamb is poetic. And this Bordeaux wine goes excellently with it: the ripe dark berries combined with the elegant oak wood …” Scott turns to his partner, “Thomas, how many bottles of it have we bought today?”
“150 crates, William, Chai de Bordes Rouge.” Beaming, Baxter raises his glass and toasts the group.
“Excuse me, Mr. Baxter …” The captain places his glass back on the table after a big mouthful. “By now you already know a lot about us Americans. We would of course like to learn more about you.”
“Of course, Mr. Boyt. William and I have worked together now for more than twenty-five years. But we know one another much longer, I would say from the days of our childhood. You have to know, I grew up in Stirling and William in Bridge of Allan, only a few miles away from us.”
“When precisely we got to know one another, I can no longer say, but we were indeed still very young,” adds William Scott. “Our fathers became friends during their time with the pioneers in the British army, and the families later got to know each other as well,” Thomas Baxter throws in.
Scott nods. “My father later worked as a lead employee in one of the copper mines in Bridge of Allan. But when the last mine closed, things looked pretty grim. Fortunately, however, just a few years later, mineralized water was found, and thanks to Sir Robert Abercromby, Bridge of Allan was turned into a recreational and spa centre with thermal baths, and my father found work in the administration. Thomas and I always had our love of wine and whisky in common, and when he inherited part of a wine trading company from a distant uncle in Leith near Edinburgh, I joined as partner. Several years later, all the other shareholders were bought out, and Thomas and I became the sole owners of Scott & Baxter.”
“That’s how it was, gentlemen. In the past, William and I leased several caverns for which Leith is still known.”
“Caverns?” asks George Boyt, interested. “What are they?”
“Large underground hollow spaces in which we store young red wines mainly from France. They develop wonderfully through this type of storage. We also have very good contact to different whisky distilleries,” explains Thomas Baxter enthusiastically.
“Not to be forgotten are our excellent contacts to the British government and to the East India Company, as you were already able to discover personally, Mr. Brown,” adds William Scott. “That is mainly Thomas’s great service.”
Baxter has to grin. “I would not have been able to formulate it better, William.”
“With all the work, is there still time for private matters?” the first officer says, steering the conversation in another direction.
“But of course,” grins Thomas Baxter and throws Simon a slightly conspiratorial glance. “Ask Mr. Brown; he has already been able to see my abilities for himself.”
Simon cannot completely follow the Scotsman, which must be visible from his facial expression, because Baxter seems to feel called up to be more specific. “Brown, you remember it – on the morning when we wanted to go to the East India Company, you almost walked right into Lady Saunders and Walsh. I was just about able to rescue the embarrassing situation.”
“If you say so,” Simon answers curtly. He recalls the situation completely differently, but would prefer not to argue about it.
“Yes, you can indeed claim that Thomas Baxter is a hit with the women. They love my friendly, funny ways and my relaxed nature.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Baxter,” the first officer interjects again. “I actually just wanted to know if you are married …”
“I see, Mr. Bradshaw. No, I have had no time for that up until today. But my friend William is married and has been for a pretty long time. His wife is called Eleanor, comes from Stirling as well and is just as blond as William.” Thomas Baxter takes his wine glass, holds it up and calls, “A toast to women, without whom our lives would be bleak and desolate!”
After all the men have emptied their glasses, William Scott clears his throat and turns to Simon again with earnestness, “Now, Mr. Brown, you really want to accompany us on our ride into the Highlands?”
Simon nods enthusiastically. “But of course, Mr. Scott. I am very curious to see what awaits us there. My grandfather has already told me so much about the Highlands and its whisky. Where will the road take us?”
“First, we will set off by ship to Aberdeen tomorrow. From there, we will travel northwards to Huntly and Dufftown.”
“Who will accompany us, Mr. Scott? You will also certainly come along, Mr. Baxter?”
The man shakes his head theatrically. “For the love of God, that is not for me. I would not survive such exertions! Sitting in the saddle for days, the wet, the cold … simply terrible!”
William Scott laughs heartily and then confirms, “That really is not something for Thomas. While I love the Spartan life, for him it is the exact opposite. As you see, Mr. Brown, we compliment one another excellently. Well anyway, we will travel with two two-horse carriages and six armed men. You will get to know the men on the journey to Aberdeen. They are solid fellows.”
“Armed?” Simon exclaims, puzzled.
“Yes, the whisky transportation can be quite dangerous. With our ‘water of life’ or, as we call it here, uisge beatha a lot of money is made, and so we are an easy target in the lonely Highlands, where a robber can quickly vanish into nowhere,” explains William Scott, factually. “Before I forget, Mr. Brown: bring some warm clothing. The nights are very cold and it rains frequently … It is just Scotland.”
Peals of laughter fill the mess, and William Scott looks around befuddled, but then he understands what makes the men so cheerful and has to grin himself. “I forgot, I am sitting here with weather-tested sailors. Well then …”