Scotland’s Storybook
A magical new collection of Scottish tales, legends, folk
and fairy stories for all of Scotland’s children, young
people and big folk.
Wondrous tales and translations by Scottish
storytellers Tom Muir and Martin MacIntyre with new
illustrations by artist Kate Leiper.
With special thanks to Dr Donald Smith and all at the
Scottish Storytelling Centre in Edinburgh.
www.scottishstorytellingcentre.co.uk
Tom Muir
http://www.scottishstorytellingcentre.co.uk/directory/Tellerview.asp?key=153
Martin MacIntyre
http://www.scottishstorytellingcentre.co.uk/directory/Tellerview.asp?key=54
Kate Leiper - http://www.kateleiper.co.uk
www.LTScotland.org.uk/scotlandsstories
© 2010. All stories, translations and original artworks are copyright their respective
authors and artists. They may be freely used within schools and early years centres in
Scotland.
Rights of reproduction for commercial purposes are strictly not permitted without
prior written permission from copyright holders.
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Contents
TAM LIN
4
THE TWO OLD MEN AND THE FAIRIES
9
THE ISLANDS OF RONA AND SÙLAISGEIR
12
THE STORY OF RÒNAN AND BRIANUILT
14
THE ISLAND OF SÙLAISGEIR
16
THE FOOL AND THE LANDLORD
17
ORAL TRADITION FROM ST KILDA
20
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TAM LIN
Carterhaugh lies in Ettrickdale in the Scottish borders, and there was once a
certain pine wood that lay there that had the reputation of being enchanted by
the fairy folk. It was said that there was a magic well that lay in the woods, and
that it was guarded by a magical figure called Tam Lin. If any girl was foolish
enough to stray within the woods then she would fall under his spell and never
be seen again. The laird of Caterhaugh had a young daughter called Janet who
was his pride and joy. She had long, golden hair and eyes as blue as the
summer sky, but she was a strong willed girl who was determined to make her
own decisions in life. She had heard the stories of the magic well, and of Tam
Lin who guarded it, and so one day she decided to go for a walk in the
enchanted woods to see if the old tales were true.
She put on her dress of emerald green and a fine band of gold around her head
and she set off to explore the woods. After a while she finally found a clearing,
and there was the well, just as the stories had told. She saw that she was not
alone, because tied beside the well was a milk-white steed that was quietly
grazing the fine green grass that grew there. Janet sat herself down on the old,
moss covered stone wall around the well, and she breathed in deeply. A sweet
perfume seemed to hang in the air, and its fragrance was so overpowering that
she almost fell asleep. She looked to discover were the source of the scent was
coming from, and she saw a rose bush that was covered all over with fine
white blooms whose perfume drifted on the gentle breeze. She lent forward
and plucked a rose and fastened it to her green dress. No sooner had she done
so that a man appeared before her, as if he had just stepped out from thin air.
He was tall and very handsome, with raven black hair and eyes of cool grey.
With a soft, clear voice he said,
‘What brings you here, my lady? And why do you pick the roses from my well?’
‘Carterhaugh is my father’s estate,’ she said boldly, ‘and I shall go where I
please within its borders without needing to seek permission.’
‘Why, yes indeed,’ laughed the man, ‘you speak well, but you must know that
this is the realm of the fairy folk, and it is my duty to protect it for them.’
‘And what is your name, good man?’
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‘They call me Tam Lin.’
Janet’s brave heart began to falter, and a sudden fear gripped her as she
looked at the young man. Then, in a voice no louder than a whisper she said:
‘Are you one of the fairy folk?’
‘Yes, fair lady, I am indeed. But I was not always one of them.’ Tam Lin bowed
low before Janet as he said this.
‘Come, fair lady, and I will show you the beauty of these woods and the flowers
that grow within it.’
Janet took Tam Lin’s hand and he led her through the woods. She thought that
she knew her father’s land well, but these woods were all new to her. Their
beauty far exceeded anything that she had ever seen before, either on her
father’s estate or anywhere else. After what seemed a long time she turned to
Tam Lin and said,
‘I must return home, for my father will be worried about me. I have been away
for so long.’
‘It might not have been as long as you thought it has been,’ said Tam Lin with a
smile.
Janet said goodbye to Tam Lin and hurried home, back to her father’s hall.
When she got there she was amazed to discover that barely a few minutes had
passed, and that no one had even noticed that she had been away.
The days passed, and so the weeks and the months slipped by, and all the time
Janet could not get Tam Lin out of her mind. Her feelings for him had grown
into love, and his kind, grey eyes were burned deep into her memory. She was
afraid to return to the fairy’s well, but she knew that she must return. She had
to know if Tam Lin was a real man, of flesh, blood and bone, or was he of the
fairy folk, and only an apparition that drifted on the air. As autumn turned the
leaves on the trees to a golden brown, Janet summoned up all her courage and
set off to the pine wood to seek the answer to her question. She found the
well, and tethered alongside it was the milk-white steed. The roses on the bush
had faded now, but there were still a few who recalled the memory of that
summer’s day when Janet and Tam Lin had met. She reached out her hand to
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the rose bush, her heart pounding in her breast, and she plucked one of the
blooms. Tam Lin stood before her once more, with a look of joy on his face.
‘I thought that might never return,’ he said.
‘Oh, Tam Lin,’ cried Janet, ‘my heart has yearned for you these last few
months, but fear kept me at home. Tel me now, and tell me true, are you a
mortal man, or one of the fairy folk.’
Tam Lin looked into her tear-filled eyes, and his head dropped to his breast.
Then, with a slow shake of his head he said:
‘I shall tell you my story, Janet. I was the grandson of the Earl of Roxburgh, and
I lived a happy life as a boy. But, one day, I went hunting with my grandfather
in these woods, and I slipped and fell from my horse, over there, by that green
mound. Before I knew what had happened to me I was caught by the Queen of
the Fairies, and she whisked me away to her hall under that mound and she
made me her servant. In truth, she’s a good enough mistress, but she can be
cruel too. She is not one of the good fairies, but in the power of the devil, and
that is a great danger to me. Every seven years the devil demands one of the
fairy folk as his tribute for hell, so the fairy folk carry away human children to
use for this awful payment. The seven years are once more about to end, and
soon the Queen of the Fairies will have to choose another victim to be sent to
hell, and this time I fear it will be my turn to be sacrificed. But you can save me,
Janet, if you truly love me, as I think you do.’
‘What can I do?’ asked Janet.
‘Tonight is Hallow-e’en, and this is the only night of the year that you can save
me. The Queen of the fairies will ride forth from her hall under the hill, with all
the fairy folk riding behind her. If you come here at midnight you will see me
riding among them.’
‘But how will I know that it’s you, in the dark of the midnight hour?’
‘I will be the third rider in the procession. The Queen of the Fairies will lead the
way riding on a pitch-black steed, then there will be another rider on a brown
horse, but I shall be the third rider mounted on the milk-white steed that you
see grazing by the well. I shall have a glove on my right hand, but the left one
will be bare, and my cap will be pushed back on my head so that my hair is
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uncovered. Pull me down from the steed and hold me as tightly as you can;
never let go of me or the spell will not be broken. They will use their magic to
transform my shape into horrible beasts and fearful things, but you must never
release your hold of me. First they will turn me into a loathsome newt, then an
adder, then a bear and then a terrible lion, then a red-hot iron bar and finally a
burning lead weight. Then, and only then, you must drop me into the well and I
will emerge as a mortal man and you must wrap your green mantle around me
and then I’ll be free of the spell and will be your true-love for the rest of my
days. Remember, my love, if you truly love me then the fairy magic cannot hurt
you.’
An ice-cold shiver ran through Janet, and she promised to return that night and
save him.
Just before midnight Janet returned to the fairy well and waited for the
procession to pass. On the stroke of midnight she heard the gentle tinkling of
the silver bells that were hung from the fairy horses bridles as the procession
moved quietly through the trees towards her. In the dark she could see the
riders by the light of the soft glow from the fairy lanterns. First the Queen of
the Fairies rode past on her black stallion, then the brown horse passed by and
then she saw Tam Lin mounted on his milk-white steed, his hat pushed back
and his left hand bare. Janet sprang forward and grabbed Tam Lin and pulled
him off his horse. There was great shouting and screaming from the fairies as
they surrounded Janet who held tightly to Tam Lin. Then, to her horror, he
turned into a slimy newt that squirmed in her arms, but she suppressed the
urge to thrust him away from her and she held him tight. Then he was
transformed into a huge adder who twisted and tried to throw his coils around
her neck, but still she held him tightly. Then he grew into a huge hairy bear
with powerful paws and sharp claws, but still she held him tight. Then he
turned into a huge ferocious lion with long, pointed teeth, and the stench of
his foul breath made Janet feel sick; she fell to the ground but still she held him
tight. Then there was the burning pain as he turned into a red-hot iron bar, but
still she resisted the urge to throw him away and still she held him tight. Finally
he was turned into a burning lump of lead, and then she staggered to her feet
and carried it over to the well and dropped it in the water. A great hissing
sound came from the water and the steam curled around in the cold, night air.
Janet waited, her heart pounding in her breast, until she saw Tam Lin climb out
of the well; a mortal man once more. She ran over to him and wrapped her
green mantle around him and held him to her breast.
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Janet heard the Queen of the Fairies scream at her, ‘Curse you, woman, for
stealing from me the bonniest servant that I had.’
But Janet didn’t care about her, or her curse. She knew that her love for Tam
Lin was stronger than the Queen of the Fairies magic, and she cared for
nothing else than the man that she held in her arms. She led Tam Lin back to
her father’s hall, to the great wonder and joy of all who was there. She told her
father the story of how she had saved Tam Lin, the grandson of the Earl of
Roxburgh, from the Queen of the Fairies. Everyone agreed that there was noone in the land to match her in courage and loyalty, and soon Janet and Tam
Lin were married. They had a bonny son, who one day became the laird of
Carterhaugh, and their days were spent in happiness and loving devotion.
Tom Muir, Orkney
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The Two Old Men and the Fairies
At one time two old men lived in a glen – one at the top of the glen and one at
the foot of the glen. They both had humps but the hump on the old man at the
foot of the glen was considerably larger – he could not at all stand up straight!
Every Sunday they spent the day visiting. One week the old man at the foot of
the glen would walk up to the other man’s house and the following week the
old man at the top of the glen would walk down the glen to the house of the
other old man.
They had to walk about three miles and part of the walk took them through a
dark wood with big tall trees, where no living soul was to be seen. It was said
there were fairies in the centre of the wood and people steered clear of it for
fear of being captured and that they would be locked in the fairy knoll forever.
One Sunday afternoon the old man at the foot of the glen set out on the trip as
usual. When he was walking through the wood he heard a commotion, and
shouting and laughter. Across through the trees he could see a beautiful green
hillock, with a hole resembling a doorway in the side of the hillock. He could
hear singing and music coming from the hillock but he could not see anybody.
He did not think much of the song they were singing.
“Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday”
The same words and the same tune again and again and again. How on earth
were they not becoming tired of it?
He knew immediately that it was a fairy knoll and it greatly surprised him and
he thought he would move closer in order to see the interior of the knoll. Over
he went and he about to enter when he remembered that he should not go
into the knoll for fear of not getting out. He remembered that when he was
young his mother told him that if he went inside a knoll he must place a stick at
the entrance to the knoll so that the door would not close.
As soon as he popped his head into the knoll, the singing and the music and
the laughter and the commotion stopped and all eyes were on him. One of the
fairies asked him what he wanted. The old man did not know what to say and
he said the first thing that came to mind. He asked them why their song did not
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have other words or another tune. The fairy told him that they did not know
any more of the song.
“Well,” said the old man, “I will tell you the next part of the song if you will
remove this hump from my back.”
“Indeed, we will do that for you.”
The old man thought about their song. It would surely be easy to add another
part to the song. He began singing:
“Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday”
The fairies shouted loudly and they began clapping their hands to the music
and then the singing and the dancing followed. The song pleased them greatly
and they were blissfully happy. They thanked the old man sincerely and when
he walked out of the fairy knoll his back started to become lighter and he
began to stand up as straight as a soldier. He could not believe that his back
was straight and he dashed up the glen to tell the news to his friend.
That man did not recognise him at first as he stood so straight outside the
house. The old man told him what had happened and the other old man
thought that he would do the same thing the following week and that his own
back would also be as straight as an arrow.
The following Sunday the old man at the top of the glen went out to visit the
other old man. He went through the wood as he was asked, listening for music
and laughter. After a while he heard a happy sound coming from the green
hillock. He went towards it as the other old man had done and he placed a
stick at the entrance to the hillock before he entered.
Again the fairies stopped and looked at him.
“What do you want?” said one of the fairies.
“I can improve your song. And if I do that, will you remove this hump from my
back?” asked the old man.
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This time the fairies were not quite sure but they gave him permission to add
another part to their song.
He started singing.
“Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday,
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday Thursday,
Friday.”
The fairies did not say anything, they stood looking at each other. The old man
began to tremble and he started again.
“Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday,
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday
Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Monday Tuesday, Wednesday Thursday,
Friday.”
This made the fairies very angry and they started shouting. “You ruined our
song, you ruined our song. Out you go, return to where you came from.”
The old man turned and left, and when he was outside the fairy knoll his back
did not become more straight nor lighter. A second hump began to develop on
his back!
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The Islands of Rona and Sùlaisgeir
The Island of Rona (Island of Seals) lies in the Atlantic Ocean over forty miles
north of Port of Ness in the Island of Lewis.
Sùlaisgeir (Cliff of the Solan Goose) lies about eleven miles west of Rona.
People from Ness still go to those two isolated places:
in the summer to Rona, for sheep work;
in the autumn to Sùlaisgeir, in pursuit of the guga.
The guga is the young of the solan goose.
As the boat approaches, you can see that it is a beautiful green island, with
steep rocks and stone slabs and cliffs. You see seals, and plenty birds flying
around: seagulls and cormorants and fulmars, kittiwakes and puffins. The
puffins in particular are delightful with their red and yellow bills, some with
little fishes hanging from them. You think that they are talking about you:
Why do those people come here now?
Disturbing us with dogs and sheep.
At one time there was rivalry about the island: to whom did it belong? If you
look at the map, you will see that Cape Wrath in Reay (MacKay) Country is
about the same distance from Rona as Ness.
‘It is ours!’ said the MacKays.
‘You have nothing to do with it!’ said the Ness people.
Eventually they decided that two skiffs – large boats – would sail against each
other to see who would be the first to arrive at the island. Those who lit the
first fire there would have ownership of Rona.
And what a rowing with oars! But the MacKays were stronger and the
Nessmen were disappointed to see that they (the MacKays) would arrive
before them. Then, very close to land, one of the Nessmen jumped to his feet.
He had a burning peat in his hand and using all his strength he threw the peat
to the island. The grass was so dry that before long a large fire was to be seen
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– a sight which must have been heartbreaking for the mainland seamen.
Anyway, the Nessmen were successful and that is how they got possession of
the Island of Rona.
But very long before then, people lived on Rona and the ruins of their village
can be seen in the south of the island. You can also see the graveyard, where
they were buried. It seems they were hospitable and peaceful people and they
called themselves after the colours which surrounded them – white and blue,
black and fair. You still find this in nicknames: Red Mary, Yellow Murdo, Brown
Alan.
The people of Rona came to a very sad end. Finally there were only five
families and one year what but a plague of rats came ashore. The rats ate their
barley, they did not leave a scrap of it, and that meant that they (the people)
would die of hunger if help was not forthcoming from the mainland. Ness was
the mainland but, as it happened, the weather was so stormy, the sea so wild,
that a boat could not get out to them
When people arrived, nobody was alive. It was said that one woman was in the
shelter of a rock, with her child close to her bosom. They were both dead.
It was some time afterwards that other families went to live on Rona. They
belonged to Ness and they were shepherds. Here is a story about two men
who went there in 1884:
One of them was called Malcolm MacDonald, and the other was called Murdo
MacKay. They spent the winter there, and as happened to the people of Rona
long before, a boat did not manage to reach them till the following spring.
It surprised those who were in the boat that neither man came to meet them;
there was not even smoke to be seen rising from the chimney, and they felt
somewhat restless as they approached the hut in which they were.
What awaited them there then?
Malcolm MacDonald lay dead near the door and inside, lying on the floor, was
Murdo MacKay’s body.
They were buried in the graveyard and a gravestone was placed over them.
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The Story of Rònan and Brianuilt
Much was spoken in Ness about the Island of Rona. Here is one story which is
quite unusual and it is about Saint Ronan. About him and his sister Brianuilt.
In the village of Eoropaidh, the furthest north village, Ronan had a worshiping
house – that is a place where he prayed. Today it is but a ruin. Anyway, things
were not going too well for him: the womenfolk particularly exhausted him,
mocking him, throwing stones at him. And he would pray to God to move
them, himself and Brianuilt, far away from Eoropaidh. And would you believe
it? One night he heard a voice asking him to get up and to go down to Cunndal
Shore and that he would find a ferry boat on the shingle to take them away.
Some ferry – a large fish like a whale, called the Cìonaran-Crò. To give you an
idea of the size of the beast, here is a verse:
“A salmon’s fill is seven herring
Seven salmon will fill a seal,
Seven seals will fill small whale
Seven small whales is the large whale’s deal.”
The Cìonaran-Crò – Ronan and Brianuilt jumped on board and it set out to sea,
over forty miles north to the Island of Rona.
When they arrived, Ronan chased the strange animals which they saw. They
resembled serpents with sharp nails and teeth like Dracula’s. They fled, and
you can see their marks left on a rock, the Scratch Stone in the south of the
island. It was like the fleeing of the serpents which were in Ireland away from
Saint Patrick. They made for the sea.
And Ronan made his home on the island. You can see his church and you can
see Ronan’s cell (chapel) – a narrow place built up with stone, with a hole
through which you can enter. A young boy belonging to one of the shepherds
tried to go into the cell and this is what he said:
‘I put my head in through a hole there and I got the most awful splash on
the cheek.’
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The fulmars live in that cell now. They protect themselves by throwing thick
spits at you like a kind of oil which smells strongly of the sea. The splash which
Ian received on the cheek!
Well anyway – to finish the story – Brianuilt became sick tired of her brother,
Ronan. And she left the island and went to live in Sùlaisgeir. She died there.
And when they found her, poor soul, the cormorant had built its nest in her
bosom.
When Ronan died he was buried near the cell and the stone which marked his
grave is now in the possession of Comann Eachdraidh Nis (Ness Historical
Society).
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The Island of Sùlaisgeir
Let us now go for a trip to Sùlaisgeir, eleven miles west of Rona. This is a rock,
rising about two hundred feet out of the sea. At that height it is white with
guana – excrement of the solan goose. The solan goose is a sea-bird, large and
white except that the crown of its head is yellow and that the tips of its wings
are black. Out at sea you can watch them fishing: one soars up high and then
down it comes like a bullet with folded wings and strong beak piercing the
surface of the sea. Ashore, it requires a tall rock or a cliff to face the wind
before it flies away to sea again. It will not survive in a low-lying place – falling
and going round trying to escape.
The young of the solan goose is called a guga. They cannot fly at all and so, in
the autumn, the bird hunters can tackle them.
Depending on the weather, the bird hunters spend two weeks on Sùlaisgeir.
They take water and food with them to keep them happy during that time. And
they also eat “The Nessmen’s manna”: guga, plucked and singed, split and
salted and boiled for an hour. With dry Kerr’s Pink potatoes you never tried
such tasty food. You would eat your fingers after it.
There are huts on Sùlaisgeir in which they live and – wait for it! The ruins of a
temple are there too.
A fishing boat brings them back and fore; they have a radio for safety and to
tell how they are getting on and in that way the trip is not as dangerous as it
once was.
At one time they were in open boats, not only going to Sùlaisgeir but they
would also cross The Minch to cliffs. They even went to St Kilda once: they took
one look at the cliffs there and returned immediately.
But still every year they make their way to Rona and Sùlaisgeir. That bond is
strong and firm.
‘When it is winter,’ said one man, ‘and the wind blows and the rain lashes the
window, I think of them out there, in the storm, on their own.
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The Fool and the Landlord
There was once a priest who lived on land belonging to a landlord, and the
landlord did not like the priest very much and all he wanted was to find an
excuse to get rid of him. And the priest met him this day, and the landlord said
to him that he must come to see him within three days, and that he was going
to ask him questions which he must answer, or else!
The priest went home, and he was unhappy. His brother was exceptionally like
the priest in appearance, but people thought he wasn’t very clever. He would
tease plenty people, who thought he was the priest until he spoke. He himself
noticed that the priest was not as happy as normal and he asked him:
“I think something is troubling you today,” he said.
“Indeed, yes,” said the priest. “There is plenty troubling me as well,” he said.
“What is it?” he said.
“Oh, telling you that will not make me much better,” he said.
“Will it make any difference to you?” he said.
“Oh, not a bit,” said the priest. “Tomorrow I must go to the landlord and he is
going to ask me questions which I must answer for him, or else!”
“Huh,” said the brother, “don’t let that worry you at all. I will go instead of
you.”
“Ah, whatever I can do, you will be unable to do anything,” he said.
“Indeed, I will go,” he said, “and nobody on earth resembles you more than I
do. He will never know that it is not you.”
This is what the priest did the following morning: He gave clothes to his
brother, and off went the brother. Anyone who saw him would swear that he
was the priest and he took a walking-stick with him.
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He arrived at the landlord’s house. He knocked the door. The landlord went to
the door.
“You have come,” said the landlord.
“Yes,” said he.
“Come in,” he said.
The young man went in, and the landlord asked him to sit. The young man was
looking round.
“Are you now ready to answer the questions which I am going to ask you?”
asked the landlord
“I think I am,” said the young man. “What are the questions?”
“Well, you must tell me first of all,” he said, “as you are such a knowledgeable
man, where is the centre of the world – the exact place in which it is.”
The young man pulled the chair over and struck the centre of the room with
his stick.
“That is it then,” he said. “That is the centre of the world.”
“How will you show me,” said the landlord, “that the centre of the world is
there?”
“Well, you show me that it is not,” he said; “you measure from it and if the
centre of the world is not there, I will suffer death.”
“Aye,” said the landlord, “I see that you consider yourself to be a clever man.
Tell me, then,” he said, “what I am worth.”
The young man looked at him.
“I think,” he said, “that you are worth twenty-eight coins.”
“Oh, you are mistaken,” said the landlord.
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“Not at all,” said he. “Our Saviour was sold for thirty pieces of silver,” he said,
“and he was worth two coins (pieces) more than you.”
“Oh, I do not need your faith nor your preaching at all!” said the landlord. “But
I am not finished yet, my man,” he said. “Tell me, then, what am I thinking
about?”
“Indeed, that is easy enough. You think the priest is talking to you. But no, I
am the fool, his brother.”
“Indeed, Goodness,” he said. “I am the one who is the fool and not you. But
you go off home and I will not bother yourself or the priest again.”
The young man went home; I don’t know if the priest himself had gone, would
he have done any better than his brother the fool.
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Oral Tradition from St Kilda
Since the St Kildans left the island two generations ago we have very little
evidence of local anecdotes and stories at the present day. That is because, as
far as we know, that nobody visited with a recorder before the people
dispersed, and the little that is written is taken from history. What is archived
from St Kildans who settled on the mainland or in foreign lands frequently
gives accounts of the particular livelihood and way of life which existed: going
to the rocks (bird-hunting), fishing, social customs and place-names on the
island.
The harsh environment and the written history show us that there is reason to
believe it – the elimination of infectious diseases and young people being
captured by the king’s forces and taken away – the people had a particular
kind of story and anecdote. There is no evidence today of the great
international stories being told, but there is one piece of local history recorded
last century since St Kildans lived on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean:
Big Farquhar and Dougie
There is no way today of discovering when these two appeared, Big Farquhar
and Dougie, in the island, but according to tradition they came from Lewis and
Harris. They were big valorous men, and following support and hospitality from
the islanders, they climbed the mountain to view the scenery. When they
descended, they convinced people that they saw a warship coming to plunder
them – which was credible enough due to the wickedness perpetrated that
century – and that they all had to shelter immediately in the temple for safety.
The temple had a narrow door and when everybody was inside, Fearchar Mòr
and Dùgan closed the door from the outside and set fire to the thatch. All the
St Kildans were burnt to death, except for one girl who was about fifteen years
of age, who escaped because the other two did not see her through the
surrounding smoke. The girl hid in a cave in the rock on the other side of the
island, surviving on eggs and birds and on food which she got occasionally in
the village.
She could boil the food at night, but she had to extinguish the fire at daytime.
One day, the two murderers were walking on the west side of the island and
one said to the other, ‘I smell fire.’ ‘It is only,’ said the other man, ‘the fire we
left behind.’ So they had no idea that the girl was there.
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The boat belonging to the island landlords visited twice a year from the
mainland. The girl and Fearchar Mòr and Dùgan were fully aware of that, and
the murderers were waiting on the quay nearby when it came in. The
murdreres told the lies to the crew, and the girl arose and three times shouted,
‘My God has come!’ Fearchar Mòr and Dùgan were arrested; a trial was held
immediately and they were convicted of murder. And their punishment was
that they were sent over to Stac an Àrmainn, a rocky island, without a bite to
eat except for wild birds and eggs. During the journey on the boat Farquhar
quietly asked Dùgan whether he remembered to take a flint and steel to light a
fire – the very thing they did when getting rid of the people. Having heard that,
the crew were going to beat them; Fearchar Mòr began to ask for forgiveness,
but finally he leapt out of the boat and he was drowned. They deposited Dùgan
on the Island of Soay, where he built a shelter for himself of a stone wall
beneath a large rock. He died a few years later and the shelter ‘Dùgan’s Hut’
can still be seen there with the bones inside.
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