Flight of the Yellow Bowler

Slowly, really slowly, yes, the balloon sporting a bowler hat drifted across on the evening breeze until it was right over the tower. It and the basket looked enormous. A voice shouted, ‘Grab hold,’ as a long rope snaked down and almost knocked Alec on the head. ‘Come on, come on,’ urged the voice way up. Alec did, took firm grasp of the line, wrapped his legs round it, held on and began to climb. ‘Lift off,’ shouted Alva, giving his burner a burst. Alec was yanked from the battlements and swung like a mad wild pendulum way out and over the water. WAH-HOY! Balloon and basket, reacting to Alec’s weight, dipped a bit, and in that moment the extra length of rope swinging and twisting beneath his feet, flapped and splashed into the water. A massive phosphorescent streak burst up from the depths, water furiously boiling. Alec turned white. Anxious to help, Ben only made things worse, leaning dangerously right out of the basket, ruining balance and bringing the whole rescue operation face to face with – how might one describe the creature that reared up to present itself, full-faced: all jaws and teeth, to rip the basket bottom right out? Stylish, I’d give it that – and such eyes! Amused, almost kindly, ‘Room for one more on top?’ the beastie enquired in broad Scots. With a huge wink, the resident monster was gone. Whoosh! An unstoppable spurt of water gushed and spouted high into the air. Alec was soaked. Water rained down on balloon, basket, everything and everyone in it, including Sam seagull, aboard, still cadging a ride. There was a sudden, violent gust of wind, but thanks to the skirt rigged above the basket and Alva’s masterly touch, the burner just remained alive. Be quick! Give it a good sustained roar. Balloon and basket, Sam, Alva, Ben, Alec, rope and all shot high and clear, flinging long trails of water scattering and splashing right across the loch. In a minute, it was calm as a millpond. Was Alec ever going to make it up into the basket? It didn’t look like it. He did his best, but soaked through on a rope itself pretty wet, hauling himself up seemed hopeless. Gritting his teeth, with frantic encouragement shouted from within, he finally arrived and, grabbed by Ben, toppled over into the basket and lay in a heap on the floor. Darkness was creeping in. A night’s rest would do nobody any harm, Alva thought, especially after recent events. He caused the basket to warm up and, after providing a meal, advised his passengers to shake down, get some sleep. He set his balloon on a long, steady drift into the night sky.