Western Isles Folk Tales

by Ian Stephen

Overview

This is a comprehensive collection of stories, from the geographical span of the long chain of islands known as The Outer Hebrides. Some are well-known tales, and some have been collected by the author, but all are retold in the natural voice of a local man. You will find selkies and water-horses, and encounter the blue-men of the stream, who test the eloquence of mariners who venture into the tidal streams around the Shiant Islands. There are tales from islands now uninhabited, like the archipelago of St Kilda, and their yarns from bustling harbors. So grab a copy and dive in.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780750957946
Publisher:	The History Press
Publication date:	10/01/2014
Series:	Folk Tales: United Kingdom
Sold by:	INDEPENDENT PUB GROUP - EPUB - EBKS
Format:	eBook
Pages:	204
File size:	4 MB
Age Range:	18 Years

About the Author

Ian Stephen is a world-renowned traditional storyteller and folklorist. He has traveled widely in his work and published both poetry and short stories internationally. He was also a main contributor to both Green Waters, a collection of poetry and prose, and Mackerel and Creamola, a collection of short-stories, recipes, and poems, in the Polygon Pocketbook series. He also contributed towards the Edinburgh Review, The Herald, Northwords Now, and The Scotsman.

Read an Excerpt

Western Isles: Folk Tales

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By Ian Stephen

The History Press

Copyright © 2014 Ian Stephen
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7509-5794-6

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CHAPTER 1

Barra Head to Eriskay

The Secret of the Sailor

You could never keep a vessel moored there, through the winter. You come out of the tide-rips, off Barra Head, looking up to a strong, squat lighthouse. It grows from cropped grass that's still rich and green. Then you enter the kyles to the north of Berneray, from east or west till you find some shelter, off the stone jetty. You need to clear out of there, though, if the wind blows from either east or west. In fact, when you look at it, I don't know how any sailors managed to run a boat from Berneray, even in the better months of the year. I suppose they were only lying at anchor there when the weather was settled.

Shepherd Duncan married into a Barra family and was given land on Berneray because there was little enough left elsewhere. Their bairns, when they came, had to be sailed over to Mingulay to be schooled but they did well enough. Every bite that family took and every stitch they wore came from the land or the sea. They had no need of the merchant's credit and so they prospered. The crops grew well on the land that had been fallow for long enough and the seas were still rich with cod and ling, which could be salted and dried for export. So it was not only a matter of feeding a strapping family. The Duncans were engaged in trade and their luck with the land was more than matched with their luck at sea.

The shepherd and his lads, in season, went from the line fishing to the herring. Soon they were talking about sailing up the west side of the Outer Hebrides as far as Heisker, where the lobsters are known to be at their best. As the years went on, the family moved from working small, open skiffs to running a proper trader, with a white topsail. They were daring and they'd sail that trader to Ireland or they'd sail her up to Lewis. Or anywhere there was a market for their produce or their catch. She moved with the seasonal fishing and she was never, to my knowledge, caught out. But I've heard they came close to it once.

That year there was an exceptionally good summer at Heisker. They'd caught more than their share of all the lobsters to be had and they'd done good trade, getting them over to Uist to market. But it was a better breeze to go north than to head south, for home. And the Heisker lads, who had given them a good help all summer, were very keen to see their relations on Lewis. It was the least they could do to give them a lift up the road in their fine, seaworthy craft.

The topsail was flying, white above the tan mainsail, and the wind was where every sailor wants it, there on your shoulder. Their stout vessel made good way, over the waves, with a following sea. And this time there was no work to be done on the way. The boat was going like a collie through heather and they were all wearing that daft grin sailors get. It was a soldier's wind – the strength and direction that would get the voyage done fastest.

Soon they were moored in the lee of Mealasta island, off the southwest coast of Lewis. They could take their small punt ashore till they saw what was what. The Heisker boys had relations not so far away. 'Boys', by the way, is a flexible word. Some of them might have been well into their sixties. They were made welcome. Everyone was invited ashore, with one fellow left to watch the anchor. Conditions were ideal. Islavig and Brenish are fairly remote places and folk were very happy to see their relatives from the islands. The crew were in the fortunate position of being able to carry the stories from Heisker and from all the islands south of Barra.

Gallons of tea were consumed along with mountains of bannocks. As long as they didn't run out of yarns and gossip, they were welcome for as long as they wanted. Their skipper was beginning to get twitchy, thinking that their luck with the fair weather couldn't last forever. But one of the younger lads kept persuading him to stay for one more night. The very first day they were ashore, he'd set eyes on a dark-haired girl. He said something offhand to his relation, something like, 'That's a strange looking one.' And the reply from his old aunt was, 'Strange looking or no. You watch she doesn't get a hold of you.'

Sure enough, the young fellow was drawn every night to the house where the dark-haired girl would take her place by the fire. It was the done thing to be going round the houses, sharing the news. But that crewman kept going to sit across from that girl.

At last the skipper put his foot down. 'Come on now, lads. We've a long way home and we'll need to get the boat into safe harbour in Barra before the gales set in. The breeze is favourable.'

So it was, when they carried their small skiff back down the beach. So it was, as they set sail and hauled the anchor. But the minute they were moving, clear of the island, the breeze turned on them. It was soon right on the nose and blowing strong. The lads looked to their skipper and weren't surprised when he said, 'We can't fight this, boys. We'll need to get her back into shelter.'

They managed that. And again, the boat was well secured. Most of them rowed ashore while they waited to see what the wind would do.

But they weren't alone on the beach. An old woman was working away at her knitting. She walked while she did that but she was still watching them closely.

'You're having a bit of trouble getting home, boys.'

'Aye, the wind's turned half a circle. She's blowing hard against us.'

'I'm not surprised,' says the woman, 'seeing the company some of yous are keeping.' And she gave that certain young lad a pretty withering look. 'Which one of you is the skipper?'

He took a step forward.

'You don't sound like a Heisker man nor a Barra man neither,' she said, 'but maybe I can help you just the same. Now would you happen to have a bit of tobacco or snuff left from your travels?'

The skipper shared out the last of his pouch even though he was indeed running low after all that time away from Heisker. 'How can you help us?' he asked.

'Well,' she said, 'it's not natural, the wind shifting as sudden as that. There's someone here doesn't want to see that fellow sail away from her clutches. That's why the wind shifted.'

'What can we do about that?' the skipper asked.

'That dark one isn't the only woman who can do something about the wind,' the old woman said, chewing away happily.

Now this is every sailor's dream. You are at the mercy of the wind at sea and there's no sailing boat ever invented that can head right into the teeth of a hard breeze. Even the lads fell silent.

'How can you do that?'

'I'll give you something that will help you on your voyage if you use it the way I'll tell you.'

She dug into her skirts and produced a short length of thin cordage. When they looked at it closely they could see the oily old cord had three knots in it. But none of them were knots any of the boys had seen before, from Barra Head to Heisker. They said so.

'Well you're seeing them now, skipper, and this is what you'll do. I'll tell you for sure, when you set out again, that breeze will shift back against you. When that happens you can let the first knot go.' She pointed it out.

'What will happen then?'

'You'll get a fair breeze, from over your shoulder. That fine boat of yours will eat up the miles, with no effort at all.'

'Grand, but what do we need the second one for?'

'You don't need it at all but I know what you men are like. You'll want her to go faster. If you think the boat and yourselves can take it you can let that second one go – that one in the middle.'

'What about the third?'

'No, no, you have to promise me right now, you won't even look at that third knot. You have no need of that but the others won't work without it.'

'Well, why would we need it if the other two will work as you say?'

'Oh, they'll work all right.'

But some of the boys thought their skipper had been a bit generous with his tobacco, for an old bit of string.

When the breeze settled back, they launched their craft again and got a wave from the old woman, still chewing away. But they had only just hoisted the gaff when they felt, on the back of their necks, that change in the wind again. One of them only looked glad at the thought of returning to the beach. The others urged their skipper to let that first knot go.

It didn't happen at once. But they could feel it on their cheekbones, the wind veering round till it was blowing from the north, but just a shade of east in it, coming off the land and not too strong. That would do them.

So it did and they were all, but one, very happy to be heading homeward now. Some had only to make it to Heisker and the other lads would help take her on to safe haven in Barra. They weren't many minutes before someone said, 'You know, I think she could take a bit more.'

'Aye,' the skipper said, 'I believe she could.' He fingered the cord in his hand, making sure he knew which end was which. Then he let go the second knot. If she was going well before, she was at the maximum now. It was absolutely to the limit of what she could carry under full cloth. Every rope was singing and every plank was creaking. The nails were shimmering but nothing gave way.

Soon there was a long straight wake behind them and spray coming over them. There was strong light too and that was catching the breaking spray. They were licking the salt off their lips and lost for words, for a change, as the miles flew by. One after the other, the islands were left behind, off to port, Scarp and Taransay and the outlying Glorigs. That couldn't be Coppay already, but it was. None of them had sailed like that before and even the reluctant fellow was starting to smile.

So it wasn't long before Heisker was in sight. The helmsman had his eye on his mark and they were almost in the lee of it when, of course, someone said, 'What about that third one?'

'No, boys,' their skipper said, of course. 'You heard me promise that old soul. We're going just fine.'

Did they give up? One after another they had a go at their wise skipper.

One of the Heisker men said, 'I thought we had a chief of Berneray, the skipper chosen by the Duncans of Barra Head, in charge. But he's a man who's scared of a poor old woman from Lewis.'

That did it. The skipper fingered the last knot. He took a glance. They were now coming into a lee. They'd gone the deep route, round Shillay, a small island to the west of the group. They were now sailing into more sheltered water. 'It can do no harm now,' he said, plucking at the cord with his fingers.

That was fine until the helmsman looked behind. You could see the shadow of fear cross his face. The first of three impossible waves took a grip of them and they were surfing out of control. The second one nearly had her over but the mast came down and the sail with it. There was water everywhere. When the third one hit, their fingers were all frozen to the gunnels. Just as well, because the force of the wind took the boat out clear of the water. They couldn't see a thing for all the hail and sleet, driving at them. But they could feel it all right. She was hurtling back in the other direction.

When the storm-driven rain cleared for a moment, they made out the high shape of an island passing by. It was an island they'd seen not very long before. Their vessel came down with a shudder, grounding at the beach. It was a beach they knew all too well. And here too was a woman they'd met before. She was shouting at them, higher than the wind. But they all knew what she was saying, all right.

'I told yous not to untie that third knot.'

I suppose that's where the story ends. The boys got away with it by the skin of their teeth. They were all handy enough with their repairs. And just maybe their skipper sacrificed the very last of his tobacco to regain the favours of the woman who could tie the right knots. That would certainly suggest that the Heisker lads and the Barra lads all got home all right. It might also explain the continuing good fortunes and successful trade of the family who made such a good living on the Isle of Berneray.

References

This is a story told the length of the Long Island (Barra Head to Butt of Lewis) and beyond. It hints at how a sailor might get more than his fair share of favourable breeze. John MacPherson (Coddy) makes a link between Barra and Coll and the Clyde with a similar tale and here on Lewis our telling navigates a route down the Atlantic side of the chain of islands, to Heisker or Monachs. But in a recorded discussion with a John MacNeil, also of Barra, John MacPherson describes a line of respected mariners and crofters who made a good living for themselves on Berneray. That is the most southerly island in our chain, but trade with Heisker, which lies to the west of North Uist, is also mentioned. So it seemed a small step to splice these strands of story together.

My first memory of this tale is from conversations with both Norman Malcolm MacDonald and Francis (Frank) Thompson, part of the last days of Stornoway's Italian café culture. I sadly miss both these gentlemen. Frank's publications are too numerous to list in full but I'd recommend The Supernatural Highlands (first published in 1976 and reissued by Luath Press, Edinburgh,1997). Frank's poems are less well-known but they are wide in scope and finely made. Norman is the author of many plays, as well as the innovative novel Calum Tod and a small number of minimalist poems. The lore of the sailing vessel is prominent in his later novel, Portrona (Birlinn, Edinburgh, 2000), which gathers many strands from his drama. His play Anna Caimbeul, broadcast on Radio 3 as well as widely performed, was described by himself as 'the first Japanese Noh play in Gaelic.'

Notable versions of the tale are in John MacPherson's Tales from Barra, edited by John Lorne Campbell (Birlinn, Edinburgh, 1992, p. 141). See also Donald MacLellan's strong version, with some additional details, in A.J. Bruford and D.A. MacDonald, Scottish Traditional Tales (Polygon, Edinburgh, 1994, p. 391).

Traditions relating to Shepherd Duncan of Barra Head from transcriptions of John MacNeil and John MacPerson are in John Lorne Campbell, A Very Civil People (Birlinn, Edinburgh, 2000, p. 115). A Shetland version of the three knots is also included in Bruford and MacDonald's Scottish Traditional Tales. John Gibson Lockhart describes a visit to Stromness, Orkney with Sir Walter Scott. The account includes details of a woman who sells the winds for a sixpence. Common Orcadian versions (heard from Tom Muir, author of Orkney Folk Tales, in this series) have coloured threads rather than knots and the boat arriving back where it departed from, unlike most Western Isles versions where it is wrecked or driven high on dry land.

The story invites comparison with book 10 of The Odyssey by Homer. I suggest the rugged translation of Robert Fagles.

John's Leap

The west side of Barra is no place to be at sea in a gale. Once, a Spanish ship was caught out on this lee shore. They would come to these prolific seas to take cod and ling. The catch was split and salted and packed, to take home. It takes a long time to tack a vessel like that through the wind and her canvas was soon in tatters. There was no doubt she would be driven ashore. A line of folk was soon stretched along the rocks. They watched her ground. The wind was storm force and they knew that even a solid oak ship could not last long. It was heart-rending, watching the shadows of men clinging to the masts. No one could swim through that surf without assistance.

A strong rope ashore – that would be their only chance. The strongest and fittest man on the beach was one John MacNeil, a son of the chief. He coiled a long length of light line and weighted it with a securely tied stone. He chose his pebble with care, heavy enough to carry the line against the full force of the wind and light enough to fly far. The shoreward end was attached to fathoms and fathoms of heavier rope, all joined and coiled so it would run true.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Western Isles: Folk Tales by Ian Stephen. Copyright © 2014 Ian Stephen. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents

Contents

Title,
Acknowledgements,
Introductio,
1 BARRA HEAD TO ERISKAY,
The Secret of the Sailor,
John's Leap,
The Two Caves,
The Cattle of Pabbay,
The Tale of the Three-Toed Pot,
The Black Tangle,
How the Down was Shared,
Donald and the Skull,
The Cask in the Foc'sle,
The Point where English was Spoken,
Words of Help,
2 SOUTH UIST,
The Crop-Headed Freckled Lass,
The Kingfish,
Two Ravens,
The Cooper's Beautiful Daughter,
Asking for the Wind,
3 BENBECULA TO GRIMSAY,
Out the West Side,
The Day of the Black Dog,
A Way of Taking Herring,
Threads of Three Colours,
4 ORTH UIST AND OUTLYING ISLANDS,
The Beachcomber,
An Elopement,
Black John,
A Boat Race,
Holding Together,
5 HARRIS AND OUTLYING ISLANDS,
The Cowhide,
Matters of Justice,
Anna Campbell,
A Crossing to Scarp,
6 EWIS AND OUTLYING ISLANDS,
WEST LEWIS,
An Endless Voyage,
Who Was Chasing Who?,
A Father and a Son,
The Tale of the Head of the Flounder,
A Transaction,
The Blind Woman of Barvas,
EAST LEWIS,
The Blue Men of the Stream,
The Spoons of Horn,
The Tooth of the Fairy Dog,
An Apprentice Seaman,
An Encounter,
From Father and Mother,
Smith's Shoe Shop,
Looking Where You're Going,
NORTH LEWIS,
A Disappearance,
The Two Brothers,
A Fertile Island,
A Note on the Sources,
Appendix,
Copyright,