Tales from Barra

by John Lorne Campbell

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  Several years passed and MacKenzie discovered how MacNeil did him in the eye, and he was very furious and he said, ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I will have my own out of MacNeil one day.’ Now MacKenzie had a ship and went down the coast of Portugal and the coast of Spain and he came home with a big cargo of every kind of wine on the calendar. Coming down the Minch he decided that as he was so near MacNeil he would call on him. So he did. And MacNeil invited him in to the castle and they had a little dram there, and when MacKenzie was leaving he said, ‘Now MacNeil, you will come out one night to see me,’ he says, ‘and I have very good wines which I have got in Spain and Portugal and I will give you some of it to take to the castle with you.’ MacNeil accepted the invitation very cordially, and next night he went out to the ship to dine with MacKenzie.

  The wine was very plentiful and MacKenzie knew the blends which would hit MacNeil the hardest, with the result, I regret to have to tell you, that MacNeil went below the table. Whenever MacKenzie saw MacNeil below the table he gave the order, ‘Up anchor!’ and the boys stood by and hove the anchor, got the sails in order and cleared out of Castlebay. MacNeil then understood that something was wrong, for the ship was pitching at such a rate that he could not be in Castlebay. And looking up the cabin hatch he could see Barra away in the background, and he just took hold of his venerable beard and, ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I am very disappointed with what happened and we will just see what is further going to happen.’ He did not lose his courage although he was beaten.

  MacKenzie was proud of the opportunity he had in taking the raider MacNeil to court in Edinburgh. Well, the day came when MacNeil had to stand before the court, and the sheriff knew MacNeil and he was also a blood relation of his – although he did not let that on in court.

  Now the trial began and the judge put MacNeil on his oath and then he said to him, ‘I am going to examine you, Mr MacNeil. Are you the MacNeil of Barra?’ says the judge.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ says MacNeil.

  ‘Are you the man,’ he said, ‘who plundered a ship between Barra Head and Northern Ireland and looted the cargo and took the cargo back to Castlebay?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘And this same crew – you were very kind to them – you gave them plenty to eat and plenty to drink?’ said the judge.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ said MacNeil.

  Then the next one came. ‘Are you the MacNeil of Barra who had the courage to declare war on the King of England single-handed?’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ and MacNeil took a firm hold of the beard and put out his chest with pride and admiration that he was the man who declared war on England single-handed.

  Now the judge ceased fire and stopped examining him.

  ‘Now,’ he says, ‘MacNeil, I cannot say much against you as regards the first offence – it was good of you to save the lives and be kind to the men and take them ashore, but it was very illegal of you to loot the cargo.’

  And MacNeil says, ‘My lord,’ he says, ‘looting was quite in order to do in those days, and so I said that I had as much right to loot afloat as ashore.’

  ‘As regards the last part,’ he says, ‘you declared war on the King of England single-handed. Well,’ he says, ‘for your courage I will let you go back to Barra without penalising you to any extent. But don’t you come back here any more and appear before me in Edinburgh.’

  ‘I will try my best,’ says MacNeil, pulling the beard again – and the court was dismissed.

  [See Introduction p. 28]

  MacNeil’s return to Barra from the Isle of Man

  In the days I am talking about it was customary for the MacNeils to send their children to a college in the Isle of Man, and at the same time every year, about the fifteenth of August2 the time was when MacNeil went to visit them. So on the twelfth or thirteenth he sounded the trumpet for all the boatmen to muster and get the galley in order to go to the Isle of Man. No sooner said than done – everything was put in readiness and MacNeil gave orders to the gocman –‘On such and such a date you will send my message to Eoligarry to take up a bullock, and that bullock will be killed at Eoligarry and taken up to the castle, and you will have it in readiness for eating when the galley comes back.’

  Well, MacNeil used to take his piper with him on occasions like this, and he took him along this time with him and his name was Donald MacKinnon, and he composed the famous tune called ‘Colonel MacNeil’s Salute’ – Sealladh nan Ruaridh, Sealladh thog Mulad dhiom.3 Everything was ready, and the orders were given to the gocman to have the feast ready, when they would return from the Isle of Man.

  The MacNeil spent a considerable time along with his two boys on the Isle of Man, and coming back, between Northern Ireland and Barra Head, there came a heavy fog. Having no compass they were lost. Fortunately it was very calm and they were rowing most of the time. Well, the creachadair mór (chief raider) was aboard, and he was an expert at knowing the lie of the land, better than anyone else in the galley. And he noticed the direction the seabirds were flying, and as it was evening he knew they were going to their nests. And they had nothing else to go by but to follow the seabirds.

  The creachadair went forward and sat in the bow and was keeping a very keen lookout. And now at last he gave a yell. ‘Cliffs right ahead,’ he said. And shortly afterwards he identified the cliffs and it was the rocks of Barra Head. And then he knew the position beautifully and he said, ‘Now,’ he says, ‘we are all right – here’s Barra Head and now we shall follow along the west side, across the sound of Berneray, and right along the shore of Mingulay and across the Sound of Pabbay, and right on till we come to the Sound of Vatersay.’ And they followed this course and then they were home.

  When they got to the Sound of Vatersay they turned into Castlebay. Now MacNeil knew perfectly well that the gocman would be on sentry watch and he advised that they go ashore on the mainland for the night. He knew there was a current there and that they were not far from the castle.

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘we had better go ashore, and kindle a fire. I don’t want to disturb the gocman at such a late hour of the night.’ And this they did, and landed at a wee loch there known as Loch Kentangaval, and kindled the fire.

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  The bullock was hanging in the castle. The gocman noticed there was a little fire over on the shore and he suggested that they take the lungs out of the bullock and put it in the cannon and fire the lungs of the beast ashore and wait and see what would happen. He had no suspicion of enemy attacks, but he was thinking that MacNeil might arrive any time.

  Now, here’s the cannon leaded and here is the shot fired, which spattered the fire all over the shore. And as soon as this happened MacNeil cried, ‘Put out every bit of fire. Or else,’ he says, ‘If the gocman sees another fire, what will happen – you will feel the lead bullets from the cannon in the castle and it will finish you out!’ They had to creep there very silently until the next morning. And daylight came and, lo and behold, the beautiful castle was within two hundred yards of them. So they rowed out, and MacNeil went up and met the gocman and shook hands with him very very kindly.

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I was very pleased with yourself last night. It shows me what a dutiful, and a very dutiful, servant you are when you saw the light and fired the cannon with the bullock’s lungs. And if you had put in the lead or the powder, we would all be done.’

  So they went in, and he gave an order to roast a piece of the bullock. There were no roasters in those days – there was a special corner in the castle and the fires were taken out and the bullocks were roasted on iron grids which had to be watched very carefully in case the castle would go on fire with the fat coming out of the beef. And they sat down and had a very good meal.

  [This must have happened before 1700, as the MacNeils ceased to live in Kismul Castle after that date. But I have found no record of MacNeil’s children being educated on the Isle of Man. Under the Statutes of Iona (1609) the Hebridean chiefs were forced to send
their eldest sons to be educated in the Lowlands of Scotland.]

  MacNeil and the coming of Prince Charlie

  Before the ’45, it was customary a lot among Highland chiefs to go round their tenants and crofters to see what they could afford to give in support of Bonnie Prince Charlie getting back the throne of Scotland. Money was scarce at the time and funds were very low. MacNeil had a suspicion that one of the crofters of Fuday had a considerable sum of money, and he crossed the Sound one day and went to see Donald MacInnes.

  ‘Well, I suppose,’ he says, ‘Donald, you have heard that in the very near future Bonnie Prince Charles of the royal Stuart blood is coming back to regain the crown of his ancestors; and,’ he says, ‘money is scarce and I came over to see you today and see if you could give me some assistance in this direction.’

  ‘Well,’ says Donald, a pure Jacobite, ‘yes, I will give you money, my chief MacNeil. I will do it without a doubt, especially for the cause. Now, I shall not consider,’ he says, ‘whether I get it back or not. If I get it back, I shall be so pleased that I don’t think I will take it – I shall be that pleased to hear that the Prince got the crown of his forefathers.’ And turning round on his heel, he put his hand above the door and from the divots there he took out what is called a mogan, that is, the bank they had in those days for keeping their gold.

  Well, he counted three hundred pieces of gold to MacNeil of Barra, and MacNeil gave that money to a committee they had in the Highlands for collecting money, and poor MacInnes never saw a penny of it again. After the defeat of Culloden all the gold in Scotland was taken down to London and there were eighteen wagonloads of gold went down from Scotland.

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  Now the ship Ladoutille4 came and was piloted to the anchorage by a man called Calum the Piper, who at the time lived in Gigha.5 (Several years afterwards this same Calum fought with MacNeil of Barra on the Heights of Quebec. He was his valet, and when MacNeil was wounded with a French bullet it took Calum six long weeks, sucking and cleaning the wound, until one day he sucked the bullet out of the back of his ear. After the War of Independence was over, Calum came back to Barra again but he said he would not stay here any more, and he left for the Island of Cape Breton with his seven sons. And seeing a little corner of Cape Breton, he called it ‘The Piper’s Cove’ because it was so like the little cove he left behind on the Island of Gigha. And, wonderful to say, a great-great-grandson was this year seeing the Coddy and he found out all the information about his forebears that he wanted.) The party landed at Coilleag a’ Phrionnsa6 and, headed by Calum the Piper, the Prince was taken ashore by a man from Eriskay called John MacEachen. Then they opened up a big spread, which consisted of the famous liqueur Drambuie, and the piper played at the spread, and I know the place well.

  Afterwards the Prince proceeded to the Laird of Boisdale, a prominent figure in the Islands in those days. And he slept in a thatched house in Eriskay and through the night he was very uncomfortable; the fire was in the middle of the floor and the smoke was cutting his eyes bitterly.7 Next day he made for Boisdale and he went to see that old, venerable gentleman, the Laird of Boisdale, and told him his mission.

  ‘Oh,’ the Laird of Boisdale replied, ‘you had better go back and go home – and get ready more men, more ammunition, more money and more food.’

  And the Prince replied, ‘I have come home, Boisdale.’

  ‘Well,’ says Boisdale, ‘you will say that before the conflict is over.’

  Now the Prince turned to the ship. He was not at all pleased with the decision, to get the sort of encouragement he got from Boisdale. Never mind, they up-anchored and made sail for Moidart, where seven of the chiefs of Lochaber met him, and in a few days the Royal Standard was unfurled at Glenfinnan.

  The Fuday crofter was pleased to see the ship coming from Fuday, and he was more pleased to see her going back to the mainland, and in fact he was putting out his chest that he gave three hundred pieces of gold to support the coming of Prince Charles.

  The wonderful part of the story is, now, how did that man get so much gold on the little Island of Fuday? And there was a shepherd on the island some sixty years ago who told me this story. And I asked him where did he think the man got the gold?

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I was told, and it was a traditional story of Fuday, that a ship was wrecked on the west side of Fuday. (They had no name for it but he called it the Long Dhubh or Black Ship.) And it had a lot of gold in it, and this man Donald MacInnes’ forefathers for many generations were on the Island, and were there when the ship was actually wrecked, with the result that they had captured the majority of the gold and divided it and hidden it amongst themselves. And I heard,’ he says, ‘that portions of it were lost all over the island.’

  Now to return to the Prince. His ship crossed the Minch and landed at Arisaig and eight of the chiefs of the clans met the Prince at Moidart and rejoicing over the meeting they danced for the first time the world-famous dance, ‘The Eight Men of Moidart.’

  [The late Fr Allan McDonald preserved some information about the MacInneses formerly on Fuday. There were three of them in his time, Aonghus mac Fhionnlaigh ’ic Iain Òig ’ic Fhionnlaigh; Dòmhnall Bàn macPhadraig ic Dhòmhnuill Òig ic Fhionnlaigh; and Ailein Mac lain ’ic Dhòmhnuill Òig ’ic Fhionnlaigh. They lived then (1897) in Smercleit and North Boisdale, South Uist.

  (exact seniority of the different branches uncertain).

  Fr Allan says that ‘McNeil of Barra offered them [?the last generation] three nineteen-years lease of Fuday, aonta tri naoi diag, but they did not accept it.’ Donald Òg may have been the Donald MacInnes of the ’45. Angus MacInnes was a famous Gaelic storyteller.]

  Coddy’s great-grandfather Neil MacNeil and the prisoners of the Napoleonic war

  In the Napoleonic wars even from the islands of Uist and Barra there were prisoners of war in France, and as it so happens, my own great-grandfather Neil MacNeil was one of them. Also his mate, John Campbell from South Lochboisdale.8 Well during their period in prison they were having a very poor time and they were the only two Gaelic-speaking men in the whole prison. One day they were working in the prison yard and their overseer was not far from them, and strange as it may appear, when they were talking in Gaelic he understood every word of it. And the topic they had this day was complaining about the food. And when I tell you that it consisted of raw linseed oil and sawdust, you will not be surprised at the complaints. The prison guard drew near them and said,

  ‘Well, boys,’ he says, ‘I am hearing you talking Gaelic, and I am hearing you also complaining about the food. Well, I have no other alternative but to agree with you that the food is very bad.’ And he turned to my great-grandfather and says, ‘What is your name?’

  ‘My name,’ he says, ‘is Neil MacNeil.’

  ‘And where do you come from?’ says the guard.

  ‘I come from Barra,’ he says.

  ‘Well,’ says the guard, ‘when I heard you were a MacNeil I should have known that you were a Barraman.’ And he turned round to Campbell and asked him his name.

  ‘My name is John Campbell.’

  ‘And where do you come from?’ he was asked.

  ‘I come from Boisdale, South Uist,’ says John.

  ‘Well, that is very strange,’ he says, ‘my forefathers left Uist in the 1715 rising and we, their descendants, always kept up the Gaelic, and I am very, very pleased to have met you. And I will be very, very pleased to assist you, and if you want out of the prison to-night, that I shall help you to do. And I shall also guide you to the shore,’ he says.

  ‘It is your own choice, boys. If you are caught, you will be no more, but if you are not caught you stand a chance. And so I will leave you to decide between you and if it happens you decide to go, I shall leave the gate open for you.’

  Now Campbell and MacNeil had a conference and they began to talk.

  ‘Well,’ MacNeil says, ‘if there is no improvement in the food,’ he says, ‘there is nothing else for it
but to die anyway.’

  And Campbell says, ‘But if we are caught the guard said we would be no more.’

  But MacNeil insisted that it would be better to die in the attempt at escape than to perish there in misery. And so they came to a final decision to see the guard and tell him to leave the gate open and they would clear off through the night.

  Well, when the dead of night came they went to the gate and it was easily opened and so they set off on the instructions that they guard gave them to make for the shore. And by the story which I have gathered, it appears that they were not very far from the port and they arrived there pretty early in the morning, and when they went rushing down to the harbour there was an English frigate, with all the sailors aloft among the sails, spreading the canvas ready for the first opportunity to sail. Well, Campbell and MacNeil made a beeline for the ship and did not wait for any orders. They were so pleased to see a ship that they jumped on deck and from the deck up the shrouds, and from the shrouds to the yardarm.

  Now the captain’s attention was drawn to this, and they would not be allowed to do anything in the ship until he had interviewed them, and they were called before the captain and he began to cross-examine them and he discovered where they were taken prisoner and he discovered also that they had escaped from the prison; they didn’t tell why or how. Well, they had a comfortable voyage to England and they were discharged from any more service – the war was about at an end anyway. So Campbell came to South Uist among his people, and MacNeil came to Barra among his people.

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