Odyssey Part Four

We came out of the mist, the sun behind us and caught Lawwell completely by surprise, Ian Ferguson letting loose a fusilade of chain-shot which took down the Celtic Chief Executive's masts and rigging and a few of his crew who were sitting atop them, spitting at McGregor. Lawwell screamed when it happened then straightening his Dienstanzug, pulled out his horsewhip to encourage his crew into action and started bawling orders as HMS the Walter Smith fairly skipped across the waters towards him, Gough's rifles at the ready. I was watching everything from the safety of a porthole on the starboard bulwark and could see from my binoculars that Lawwell didn't seem to be worried - but he should have been, his ship was static and he was outgunned so why did he appear so calm? I crossed to the port side and checked the horizon and to my horror, there in the distance were three more vessels heading straight at us on the flanks. Gough obviously hadn't seen them, so intent was he in rescuing the man from PoppyScotland.

I ran screaming up to the Rangers 90s Squad Marines and pulling at Gough's white fighting coat, I pleaded with him to look behind him and when he did he turned the colour of his coat, fixed his telescope on the oncoming ships and cursed.
'It's BBC Scotland coming to Lawwell's rescue, dammit! And not just them, there are two Daily Record vessels there backing it up, we're in for a hot one here lads, run up the red duster and let's see if these scoundrels have what it takes to take on Her Majesty's Jack Tars - Fergie, there's a good lad, prepare yourself for a club haul!'
And at that there was great commotion about the Walter Smith as everyone found their place and waited as we sped along the Clyde coast, let off a volley at Lawwell and then just as the BBC Scotland destroyer was bearing in on us, Ferguson let go the anchor and we turned on a sixpence until we were scudding alongside the BBC Scotland cannons which fired just as we disappeared round their starboard side, their port side cannons rattling into the Daily Record ships which had been sneaking up behind us before Gough's remarkable manoeuvre. We just had time to see the astonishing sight of Keith Jackson waving his stetson hat in anger before the two Record ships went down gurgling. In a twinkling we were planing across the sea away from BBC Scotland and Lawwell but unfortunately, we couldn't rescue McGregor who remained in captivity.

Later as we idled off Kames, sitting in the Gluepot bar and mulling over the day's events over a bottle of rum while Andy Goram had a ride at the hotel manager's wife, Gough wondered aloud what Lawwell had been doing threatening the Chief Executive of PoppyScotland. Stuart McCall sighed and held out a copy of the early edition of the Daily Record and it was there for all to see.
'Just when you think Celtic and their apologists in the media couldn't sink any lower,' he said, and maybe it was the camaraderie of being with these Rangers men all these weeks at sea, maybe it was the rum or maybe it was just the outrageous lies which were as plain as the nose on my face, but I found myself agreeing with McCall. He looked me in the eyes for the first time on this voyage, clapped his hand on my back and said, 'there's hope for you yet Spiers.'