Tales from Barra

by John Lorne Campbell

  All the people from Barra were ferried over in boats from Barra to South Uist, and I remember clearly a man, Archibald MacLean, son of Neil MacLean, who was on the way. And he did not manage to be ready when the ferry-boat went from Barra, but he chartered another boat so that he would be there before the ship left Lochboisdale. They arrived at the other side; going up a hill at Polacharra they could see a ship, the Admiral, sailing round and out past the mouth of Loch Boisdale with three hundred emigrants on board, off to America – so that was the voyage to America completed for him! Archie I knew well. He was a blood relation to myself – his mother was a MacPhee – and he lived until he was a hundred and two on the Island of Barra.

  * * *

  Now I am going to describe the scenes that took place while the emigrants were put aboard and the brutality shown to human beings was beyond description. I knew a man by name Farquhar MacRae, who was on board the Admiral and witness to all that was happening. He explained to me very fully, although I was young at the time, all that happened when the friends and relatives came to see them off.

  I am going to mention one man in particular, Donald Johnston, South Lochboisdale. The Ground Officers volunteered to tie him down and he stood up there like a hero and he said very distinctly that all the Ground Officers from the Butt of Lewis to Barra Head would not tie him or handcuff him. So they had to abandon the scheme. Well, the priest was there. He went over and tamed Johnston and calmed him down and and said to him that he was very confident that no Ground Officer could compel him to go. ‘But,’ said he to him, ‘you will go of your own accord and I will give you my blessing.’ And that was done and he went.

  Now the worst confusion of all started aboard the Admiral, and MacRae said it was a sad and horrible sight to see the parting of those that were going from those that were going to stay behind. The captain was a burly big fellow and he gave orders to erect a sort of fence amidships, with those that were staying on this side of the fence, and those that were going out on the other side of the fence. And after he got this done he gave an order to the sailors, ‘Come on, boys, now lash them out.’ And the sailors got rope and lashed the poor men and women into their boats back home, after parting with their nearest and dearest friends.

  Now they were aboard, and they sailed away and it took them six months, I think, to get across from Lochboisdale to Quebec – or the St Lawrence somewhere, anyway. After that there was nothing for them but trees and poverty – no food and no provisions made for them, and those wretched fellows had to back it for life.

  Going through the hardships of the emigrants who went across the Atlantic in the Admiral, not many people would credit them today.

  * * *

  And now the fourth generation of them came to Barra last August and they were supposed to meet the Coddy, who gave them full information where their forefathers lived on Barra. And one of the places that they had in mind was the Cooper’s Beach, and another had in mind Gighay. The Cooper was one of the principal men on the island in his day. He was a cooper in the glass factory in North Bay. And the other man – his forefather left the Island of Gighay, and I mentioned his name in another story – he was the pilot who did bring the Ladoutille and the Prince and his followers and landed them on the beach at Eriskay.

  A great-grandson of the Cooper visited Barra this year, 15th August, and his forefather landed in Cape Breton, and some of his descendants are on that farm still. But for those who landed it was with a great struggle that they managed to have an existence, though today they are comfortably off and the majority of the Cooper’s descendants are well off in many parts of America. And so many of the descendants are well off in many parts of America.

  Also many of the descendants of Malcolm MacNeil the Piper are in important businesses all over the States and Cape Breton. There is a bay in Cape Breton, called Piper’s Cove, and it resembles very much the place in Barra from which the Piper emigrated.

  * * *

  One year the Piper and his sons were going to fish and they ordered a smack from the Island of Arran to come to supply them with salt. Calum went aboard with his seven sons to discharge the cargo. Now they set up planks and made stages to unload the boat, and they made the stages in a position that the one man could hand the other the barrel of salt, and so hand over hand until it was piled on the shore.

  The Arran man was so horrified at seeing the activity of the men discharging the boat that he did not tell the boys how much the salt cost. He said, ‘Goodbye, boys, we will call to see you again next year.’

  [Coddy’s account of the atrocious evictions of 1851 is strikingly confirmed by the evidence given to the Crofters Commission by John MacKay, crofter, of Kilphedir, South Uist, on 28th May 1883. MacKay was seventy-five years old at the time and had seen these incidents with his own eyes. He submitted a paper on the grievances of the Kilphedir crofters to the Commission. Later in the course of his cross-examination the following exchanges took place:

  Chairman (Lord Napier):You make a very serious charge in this paper which requires a little explanation. You say, ‘Others were driven and compelled to emigrate to America, some of whom had been tied before our eyes, other hiding themselves in cave and crevices, for fear of being caught by authorised officers.’ Will you explain these words?

  MacKay: I heard and saw portions of it.

  Lord Napier: Will you relate what you heard and saw?

  MacKay: I saw a policeman chasing a man down the machair towards Askernish, with a view to catch him, in order to send him on board an emigrant ship lying in Loch Boisdale. I saw a man who lay down on his face and nose on a little island, hiding himself from the policeman, and the policeman getting a dog to search for this missing man in order to get him aboard the emigrant ship.

  Lord Napier: What was the name of the man?

  MacKay: Lachlan MacDonald.

  Lord Napier: What was the name of the previous person you referred to?

  MacKay: Donald Smith.

  Lord Napier: Did the dog find this unfortunate youth?

  MacKay: The dog did not discover him, but the man was afterwards discovered all the same. He had got into the trench of a lazy bed.

  Lord Napier: What was done with him?

  MacKay: He was taken off.

  Lord Napier: And really sent off like an animal that was going to the southern markets?

  MacKay: Just the same way.

  Lord Napier: Did you hear that the same thing was done to others, although you did not see it?

  MacKay: A man called Angus Johnston, whose wife gave birth to three children, and another child was dead before, he was seized and tied upon the pier of Lochboisdale; and it was by means of giving him a kick that he was put into the boat and knocked down. The old priest interfered, and said, ‘What are you doing to this man? Let him alone. It is against the law.’ The four children were dead in the house when he was caught and tied, and knocked down by a kick, and put on board.

  Lord Napier: Speaking generally, are you able to say from hearsay that you have no doubt in your own mind there were many other hardships and cruelties committed in the course of these evictions?

  MacKay: Yes, no doubt. . . .

  In subsequent evidence MacKay said he had known Angus Johnston and his wife. He himself, when in charge of a gang of men working on the roads, had been asked to bring people out of their homes to be sent away on an emigrant ship, but had refused.

  Michael Buchanan, the chief Barra witness who appeared before the Commission, said that during the evictions that had taken place about thirty-five or thirty-six years earlier he had seen with his own eyes ‘the roof of a house actually falling down upon the fire, and the smoke issuing.’’

  It need not be thought, therefore, that there is any exaggeration in Coddy’s account.]

  Inns and ferries, and MacPhee the ferryman’s daughter

  In the reign of Charles I there was an Act passed in Edinburgh that there would be an inn on both sides of every ferry in the whole of Scotla
nd. And this was carried out and it was proving very satisfactory for travellers, although I believe that in some instances it was abused. At the time I am talking about, there was one in South Uist and one in Barra, and the one in South Uist is still in use though the one in Barra was dismantled many years ago.

  Now at this time letters were conveyed to Barra by a ferryman from this side called Archibald2 MacPhee. He had eleven daughters and three sons, and one of the daughters happened to be my own grandmother, and her name was Flora. The ferryman had only four letters coming to Barra every month – one for MacNeil, one for the minister, one for the doctor and one for the priest, and the postman was illiterate. Well, when they arrived at Eoligarry the postmaster said to the postman, ‘Now, Peter, that is for MacNeil of Barra’ – and he had a pocket especially for him – ‘and that is one for the doctor in that pocket, one in this pocket for the minister, and one for the priest in that one.’

  On Peter’s arrival at home he would take the letters out of his pocket and put them below a different coloured bowl on the dresser, and at the same time repeating to himself, ‘That is the letter for MacNeil of Barra,’ and putting his hand in the other pocket, ‘That is the letter for the doctor,’ and in the third pocket, he says, ‘That is for the minister,’ and the last one, ‘That’s for the priest.’ and they were to lay below the bowls that night and the next morning Peter was gong to make the delivery. As soon as ever he got up in the morning and got something to eat, he would go to the bowls and say: ‘That is MacNeil of Barra’s letter . . .’ and so on, to the doctor, the minister and the priest. And then he would start his famous delivery. One can understand easily that owing to the fact that letters came from Dunvegan to Lochmaddy once a month, correspondence was rare and not heavy.

  * * *

  On one occasion there was a married woman in Skye in a place called Tallisker, where the well-known whisky is made. She had three of a family and she was very keen to come to Barra to baptize the children. Well, one day she was in the house, and her husband was working outside and the boy was seriously ill. So she vowed that she would not pass another winter in the Island of Skye, if a priest did not come, without coming to Barra to baptize the children. So she put it to her husband and they both agreed that it was a good proposal. As soon as the first of May came, she left Tallisker and walked to Dunvegan – a considerable distance. Next day she was fortunate to catch the ferry to Lochmaddy, and she walked from Lochmaddy to Polacharra, South Uist, something over sixty miles, got the ferry at Polacharra, came across the Sound and landed at Eoligarry, and walked from there to Craigston, being the only church in the island at the time. And when they arrived, the priest was at home and she told the story to the priest which I am after telling you just now, and one of the daughters he sent to the well with a little bowl in her hand, to take home the water with which he baptized her, and also the two other children, a boy and a girl. So that was very dutiful of her – and perhaps it will surprise you to know that that was my own grandmother.

  [It was the second of the Statutes of Iona, imposed upon the Isles in 1609, which ordained the establishment of inns at convenient places. This, of course, was in the reign of King James VI and I.

  The journey of Coddy’s grandmother from Skye to Barra took place in 1848; the Register shows that the baptisms described took place on 21st June of that year. See Introduction.]

  The shebeeners of Kintail

  In olden days the shebeeners of Kintail were famous throughout Scotland. The following is a story of Donald and Mary MacRae, both of Kintail. When the time matured, Donald went to the hills and prepared his shieling which was always in the same place and near a beautiful stream of the finest water that flowed to the waters of Kintail. At the appointed time Donald takes his grain up and stores it in the shieling, and then, when the peats were ready, and all was ready in the shieling, Donald took up the poit dhubh and started to distil the whisky.

  He had also with him a grey mare with two creels on her back, and inside the creels were to be two casks and the two casks must go to Mary down to the clachan in Kintail. And Mary was always ready to stand by and give Donald a hand unloading, and then Donald took off the creel, and Mary supporting it on the other side. When the creel was taken down there was a quantity taken out of it, and both Mary and Donald drank a bowlful so as to prove that it was up to standard and strength.

  This continued for a long time and it was getting towards the end of the season and Donald was getting short of grain, with the result that he had to put more water into it, thus reducing the strength of the whisky. When Donald found himself in this predicament he said to himself, ‘Well, Mary will be none the wiser – I will fill the casks by putting more water in than usual.’ And he got the load ready on the back of the horse. And it was the last of the year if he did not take up fresh grain. Well, he was going to consult Mary about supplies for the future.

  Arriving at Mary’s house they took down the sack as usual, opened the cask and sat at the bowls, and Mary did not enjoy the drink very long before she said to Donald, ‘Donald,’ she says, ‘I am not going to buy from you today at all.’

  Donald knew he had committed a crime but he said, ‘I am surprised to hear that.’

  And Mary replied, ‘On no account will I buy it.’

  ‘And will you tell me why, Mary?’

  ‘Well,’ she says, ‘you put too much water in it.’

  ‘Oh, that cannot be, Mary – I just put the usual amount in it.’

  And, ‘You did nothing of the kind, Donald.’

  And, ‘How can you tell me, Mary?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she says, ‘when I used to take your dram, Donald, out of the bowl from the cask, it put a certain warm glow in the boundaries of my navel – and there is no kick in it today, Donald.’

  Well the argument was still continued and Donald had to make his confession and tell Mary that the reason he put a drop of extra water in it was that he fell short of grain

  ‘Oh, well, Donald,’ she says, ‘that is all right, but we shall reduce it out of the price.’

  This was done and the price was reduced and Donald asked Mary, ‘Are you going to take any more this season?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ she says, ‘Donald, but the demand is now getting poor for it and the season is more or less finished. You will take another supply down but be very careful you don’t put in the water to the extent you did the last time. You and I built a good reputation and I have a lot of good customers over your quality and it would be bad for us to lose our customers through supplying bad stuff.’

  So Donald promised that he would not commit the same crime again and he went back with a good load of grain and he came back with the casks well filled, and over and above well filled, and over the proof of anything! Now he said nothing to Mary, but took off the sack. They opened the cask and filled the bowls. They began to take it – and Mary, feeling the quality registering properly in her bowels, she laughed merrily and said to Donald, ‘Well Donald, my dear Friend,’ she says, ‘you looked after the blending very well this time.’

  That was the end of the season and when the time matured next year, they began selling all the whisky and supplying the usual superior quality.

  The drowning in Barra sound

  Once upon a time there lived in the village of B. four fishermen, they were the boat’s crew, very capable and excellent fishermen.

  One winter they began to trawl a lot of saithe up at Bolnabodach and in very good time they filled the boat and then got themselves in readiness to go over to South Uist and sell it. Now they sent a message to my father to go with them, and he got ready to go, and on the way from home to the boat, you see, he felt something telling him to come back and not to go at all – and he didn’t go. And they left Barra with a full cargo of saithe and landed at Polacharra, South Uist, and got good sale for their fish.

  After they had sold their fish, they made for Barra. It was a beautiful moonlight night, but half-way coming across there came a sh
ower of snow, and it appears that the wind blew up and the squall that came filled the boat. She didn’t actually capsize but it was full of water and the bailer they had could not be found, with the result that they spent a very severe and cold night.

  Now in the morning early, there was a little boy on the Island of Fuday, and he said to the shepherd who was there that he was seeing a boat that appeared to be under the water coming down the Sound. This shepherd came out and looked at the boat and knew it, and he understood that they were very much in difficulty. The tide was ebbing, going out to the Atlantic, and there was every danger that the boat would miss the island and go out to the Atlantic.

  The shepherd’s boat was high and dry and he ran down to a point that he was almost sure the boat would touch, and he got a rope and he put a stone on the end of it and threw it into the boat, and with that assistance he managed to pull the boat to the shore and with difficulty he took out the three men, and the fourth man was missing. He took the bodies ashore and he put them just lying on the beach but in a place where the tide would not get near them, with the assistance of his wife and the little boy. Then they put out the boat, and the shepherd when he came to the mainland told all the people about it. It happened to be on a Sunday, and the shepherd went to the Church at Craigston and told the priest to pray for the repose of the souls. Well, that was done, and very quickly there was a boat with many people in attendance at Fuday.

  And I have often heard my mother talking about the gloom, and the sad gloom, that covered the whole island.