Stories_and_Songs_from_Berneray

[DAM:] Donald Ailick MacKillop (Splash)
[TC:] Tracy Chipman

[DAM:] Eh… the island of Pabbay now is just due north of Berneray, probably five or six hundred years ago these islands, probably Pabbay and Boreray, were joined together. And there was nothing but sand. And erosion is one of the problems on this island here. But, I think it was the beginning of the 17th century, 1700, there was a horrific gale from the north, and it was said that three hundred, three hundred acres of land was blown away with the wind. That is how severe it was. And even from that point up there called Corran, which is, you know, more or less a point, it almost buried houses down in Siabaidh that’s where, the south end of the island. And, but going back to Pabbay, it’s now, it’s probably a mile in between them, whereas at one time, when the womenfolk were washing, they could throw the washing bat they had in those days, like a cricket bat. And they used to throw it from Pabbay to Berneray. But in the, then they started, it’s a very fertile island, and facing south and getting a lot of sun. If there’s sun at all, it gets it. They started distilling liquor and they used to call it ‘the blend’. And in 1842, they were evicted, solely for the liquor– for the ... distilling of liquor. Now, before then though, the… what do you call them? The excisemen were trying to get to them, but they couldn’t. Well, eventually they did but… everytime the excisemen went out to Pabbay, it was always a boat from Berneray here, they summoned. And there was a sign if there was an exciseman aboard. Now this is how I heard the stories from my father and back… Even though it was a beautiful day, the sail was rigged one down so they could see the mast quite distinctively. And this happened, and if they, if the people, when they saw the mast like this, ‘ah ah, there’s somebody aboard.’ By the time the boat… everything was away, hidden. But this time, for some unknown reason, there was a boat from Leverburgh, and the dear man, he didn’t know that this sign call was evidence that there was somebody aboard. And he went there in the full sail. 
Now the children, there was always the children meeting the boats, and it was the eldest or the older children that recognised the face, or the faces, of the excisemen. And they told the younger children: 
“Go home, do your stuff, tell them the exciseman– tell them who are here.” 
But it was my great, great grandfather, and he wasn’t young at that time, he got an empty barrel and he placed it on his shoulders, between his shoulder blades, a man called Donnchadh mac Dhòmhnaill ’ic Alasdair. And he made for the top of the hill. This was sort of, to lure, he was more or less acting as the pied piper of Hamelin, trying to take, what do you call them, the excisemen away, to lure them away. And he made for the top of the hill. Now, Pabbay, on the south side it’s very very, it’s not so steep. But it’s very steep on the back, this is the northerly slopes. So he knew that when he got to the top, that all he had to do was push the barrel and the barrel would head towards the sea. It didn’t go far there when the barrel, sort of, went over a cliff and got broken. By the time they got home, everything was hidden away. But that was the end of people in Pabbay because the excisemen knew there was some hanky-panky going and that was the end of time for them.
[TC:] And that’s when they got evicted?
[DAM:] That’s when they– after that they were evicted, they were, I think it was 1840, 1842 the people left Pabbay. Some came here to Berneray, some went to the west coast of Harris… I think to, and to Scalpay. But just like the people of St Kilda, they had to leave and they, lovely too, it’s a beautiful island. Lovely lovely island. And so is Boreray. Boreray is a very nice island too. Both are very sandy soil so that’s– people of Pabbay, and incidentally we had a girl here from Sydney in Australia this week called Janet MacLeod and her great-grandmother was born in Pabbay. She wanted to get there but the weather wasn’t suitable, but she’s coming back. She’s coming back. So there goes, there goes.
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[DAM:] My father told me this story, well we knew a bit about him, but this gentleman William Stewart from Strond in Leverburgh, and he was a sanitary inspector for the council. And every time he came over to Berneray or to the Uists he always stayed with my mother and father. And, the daughter, Peigi-Ann is still living in Inverness and I remember, as a wee boy, having breakfast with Mr Stewart, with a white beard. An elegant looking man. And he loved porridge. And that’s the first time I’d ever seen anybody having treacle on porridge and it’s, I have it, I still have it, I still have it – it’s good for you. But he had somebody with him, I think from the Scottish Office, and they were going up to the top of the hill here, Beinn a’ Chlaidh, now that’s Hill of the Cemetery. And he asked my father for a spade, for the loan of a spade. My father gave it to him and when they came back he… said my father, this gentleman, the other gentleman, he asked me to… he measured a few steps this way and that way, and he says: “Dig there.”
And just about a foot down there was a black stone with thirty inches with a hollow and a… and this man told my father, he says: “You could almost swear that the blood was still on the stone.”
Now, that stone, to follow on with the story. If in those days, like sheep-stealing, you could be beheaded. And there was no gallows here, and that’s apparently what they did. But there’s two, due north of the burn side here, or of the village hall nowadays, there’s two stone chairs. And… I think they were classed as judgement seats and… they were placed in the seat and when the sun cast his head’s shadow on the top of Pabbay, that’s when the verdict was brought up. And it would be twelve noon, exactly about twelve noon, and if the verdict was twelve noon. And if the verdict was guilty, he was taken up to this hill here, Beinn a’ Chlaidh, and beheaded. And the body, or the torso, was buried there. And due west of the hill down in Siabaidh, the south end of the island, there’s a wee knoll, or a hillock, and it’s called Cnoc nan Claigeann. Now ‘cnoc’ is a hillock, and ‘claigeann’ is the skull. So it’s, it could be translated as ‘hill’, or ‘hillock of the skulls’. And Kenny Morrison from next door, he told me that he and John Ferguson one day started digging and they did come upon skulls. Now, looking at it from etiher side it’s just, like a round mound and, probably, it is man-made. It wouldn’t be so exact on every side if it was left to… if it was a natural thing. But it very much looks like being man-made. So that’s the story, and that’s Cnoc nan Claigeann. Cnoc nan Claigeann. And to this day it’s… still holds that name.
[TC:] Very good.
[DAM:] Now, the cemetery, the cemetery up there in Beinn a’ Chlaidh, there is a standing stone like the stones in Callanish or you see them ocassionaly. And it’s about ten feet, it’s about a foot thick.
[TC:] Is that the one I was at today?
[DAM:] Yes.
[TC:] Just up there?
[DAM:] Up there, yes.
[TC:] There’s a cemetery up there?
[DAM:] Yes, oh she’s right– that stone is in the middle of the cemetery, and you can see it faintly right round. And there was even a chapel, a chapel. And I remember Hector MacKinnon, the late Hector MacKinnon, Duncan’s – have you spoken to Duncan?
[TC:] No I haven’t spoken to Duncan.
[DAM:] Oh, he’s… Duncan MacKinnon’s father, Hector Mackinnon. He was an elder in the church and, in between the services, and I remember that, just being very, very young, on Sundays, Hector MacKinnon having services – open-air services – there. That’s right, yes. But there’s a cemetery right about it.

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[TC:] It’s fascinating that, that they kept the stone up, d’ you know, because a lot of, a lot of stones were pushed down, a lot of standing stones and stone circles were pushed down.
[DAM:] Eh, well, yes but it’s still, it’s still– nobody seemed to touch it. But there’s– due west of that, probably about three to four hundred yards it is said that there is four, at least four, kings buried down there.
[TC:] The Lord of the Isles?
[DAM:] I’m… goodness knows, I’m not a great historian at all but… because, well it’s called Lag mo Rìgh: ‘Lag’ is a hollow and ‘rìgh’ is the king so it’s… phonetically translating it, it’s the… how will I say it? The Hollow of the King. Now, quite near, on the north side of the point where the ferry terminal is, well actually it is there, that’s where the ferry terminal is, it’s ‘Àird mo Rìgh’. ‘Àird’ is a point.
[TC:] King’s Point.
[DAM:] Yes, yes, the Point of the King. Now whether a king landed there or whatever, that is, it’s to this day ‘Lag– Àird mo Rìgh’. So there must be something, some connection, but supposed to be four kings buried there.
[TC:] And then if you just carry on going around the island, along the machair there, when I was here last summer there with Donald MacRury, he took me over to the MacAskills’ Monument. But then, just left of there there are some old building structures. An old village?
[DAM:] Well yes, there was a village there and it was in, was it 1665 or 1670 when this horrific gale from the north blew the sand and it almost buried them down in Siabaidh there. Their houses was almost covered with sand because apparently, as I said, three hundred– approximately three hundred acres were blown away.
[TC:] That’s what happened because I knew something happened there.
[DAM:] Yes, that’s right.
[TC:] Uhuh, very good.
[DAM:] So…
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[DAM:] Caisteal a’ Ghlinne.

Chuir iad do Chaisteal a’ Ghlinne mi 
An t-seòmbar ìosal cho fuar;
Chàraich iad mis’ ann am prìosan
’S an fhìrinn agam ga luaidh;
Creideas chan fhaighinn no èisteachd 
Don sgeul a dh’fhàg mi fo ghruaim;
’S ged dèanadh iad mise a cheusadh,
Chan èirich is’ às an uaigh.

Cadal cha tig air mo shùilean,
Gur tùrsach m’ aigne gach là,
’S mi cuimhneachadh maise mo rùin-sa
’S a gnùis bha coibhneil a ghnàth;
Cridhe bha blàth agus mùirneach
Seinn ciùil mar uiseag na neòil,
Is truagh nach robh sinn le chèile 
’S mi ’g èisteachd brìodal a beòil.

Ach thusa cha tig ann am ionnsaigh
’S cha dùisg à cadal a’ bhàis;
Ach tachraidh mise rim rùin-sa 
An dùthaich bheannaicht’ an àigh,
Mo leannan bheir maitheanas dhomhsa 
Ged leòn mi ise gu bàs,
Crìoch cha tig air ar sòlas,
Is leòn cha chluinnear gu bràth.

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Guma slàn a chì mi, 
Mo chailin dìleas donn;
Bean a’ chuailein rèidh 
Air an deise a dh’èireadh fonn;
’S i cainnt do bheòil bu bhinne leam 
An uair a bhiodh m’ inntinn trom,
’S tu thogadh suas mo chridhe-sa
Nuair a bhiodh tu bruidhinn rium.

Tacan mun do sheòl sinn 
’S ann a thòisich càch
Ri innseadh do mo chruinneig-sa 
Nach tillinn-sa gu bràth,
Na cuireadh siud ort cùram, 
A luaidh, ma bhios mi slàn;
Nach cùm dad idir bhuat mi 
Ach saighead cruaidh a’ bhàis.

’S gur muladach a tà mi 
’S mi nochd air àird a’ chuain,
Neo-shunndach mo chadal dhomh, 
’S do chaidreabh fada bhuam;
Gur tric mi ort a’ smaointinn, 
Às d’ eugmhais tha mi truagh;
Is mura dèan mi d’ fhaotainn, 
Cha bhi mo shaoghal buan.

Seo a-nist’.
[TC:] Very good. What’s it called?
[DAM:] Guma slàn a… c, h… a chì mi.
[TC:] Very good, and what does that translate into?
[DAM:] Guma slàn a chì mi… I hope everyday I see… well literally, that this girl is healthy everyday I see her. Guma slàn a chì mi mo chailin dìleas donn, pardon me.
[TC:] Aye.

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[DAM:] Right beside Donald MacKillop down there, there was a man called Kenneth Morrison and he was a shepherd or probably a shepherd and a cowherd. But he used to go, leave Lochmaddy on the boat, go down to Glasgow and walk to Falkirk… with the animals, with the cattle. Because this end of Berneray, in those days, was what they called a ‘tack’. T-a-c-k. And tack, that is just like a, like a small estate, probably in this instance a miniature estate, but it’s a tack. And he had a very good dog called Clyde, and somehow in Falkirk, at the sales, he missed the dog. Did he have one too many? We don’t, I don’t know. But Kenneth did his way back to the… to Glasgow and got the boat, but he lost the dog. Coinneach, or Kenneth, Coinneach is Gaelic for Kenneth, and he came home and… apparently this dog made his way to Glasgow and it was… Dun Ara Castle or one of these boats, the old Hebrides or whichever, this dog knew that ship and jumped aboard. And the crew were trying to get the dog out. And there was no power this side of kingdom come that would put the dog out of the, out of the ship. And eventually, somehow, this came to the skippers ears and he said: 
“Leave the dog, and feed him. There must be a purpose for this dog.”
So the dog got fed, watered and each port they called, like all the Small Isles and probably Oban, the dog… and he was, by the way, he was sleeping in a coil of rope in the bowel. And each port they came to he would sort of have a look and settle back down until he came to Lochmaddy, and one look and he was out. And he walked in to the place, Otternish nowadays, there’s Otternish and there’s another place right beside it called Leac Bhàn, ‘bàn’ is fair and there’s two or three flagstones, you know, a rock formation and it’s called Leac Bhàn. And eh, quite near that there was the… but I’ll finish that story first. Coinneach and his mother were at home and his mother happened to go outside and she said: 
“Kenneth, if Clyde was alive, I would say that he’s barking on the other side.”
And he said:
“Oh woman, just have a bit of sense.”
And they went in and apparently had their dinner or a meal, and… the dog swam the channel there and came home. And that was Clyde. 
But going back to Leac Bhàn there, that’s where the people came when they wanted to be ferried across and he, I think Kenneth Morrison, in those days, did the ferrying, he had a rowing boat. And if you wanted home in a hurry, you would sit on a certain flagstone and that was Leac an Tastain. You sat on this flagstone and you were willing to pay a shilling… but if you weren’t in any hurry or didn’t want to expend too much money, you sat on the sixpenny one: Leac an t-Sia Sgillinn. So that’s the story about… it’s different from nowadays when there’s two ferries there, one to Harris and one to Berneray.
[TC:] That’s good. I like the stories about the certain physical structures, the rocks or a certain causeway or… just, it’s really good.
[DAM:] Oh aye and these two, these two flagstones… they were natural, they weren’t manmade at all, they were natural. And they were sort of, quite distinct. Distinctively apart. And if you were in a hurry, hungry or wet and cold and you were, sort of, willing to part with a shilling, you sat on that one. And as soon as Coinneach saw you, he was over to get you. But he wasn’t so keen, well he’d be in no hurry.
[TC:] That’s good, that’s really good. I like that.
[DAM:] That’s right.
[TC:] Those dogs are amazing. Ùisdean told me about his grandfather’s dog as well, um this dog was named Fly.
[DAM:] Fly, seadh.
[TC:] And the lads were out hunting fowl, waterfowl and they had their hides set up and… it was his, I think it was Mary’s grandfather actually, and he had to get away to catch a boat early in the morning so before, it was still dark, and he left. And he went with his dog back to his house in Baleshare and made ready to leave and to catch the boat and away he was going to the mainland. And he got back and he realised that, you know, back then they had the rifles they had to pour two flasks of powder in the shot. And he’d forgotten one of his flasks so he said to Fly: 
“Right, go and get my flask.”
So the dog was practically out the door before he’d even opened it, and away Fly went. It was about a mile and a half walk or a mile and a half. And the two men were still there in the hide and Fly showed up, you know, growling and wanting something and by this time the two men they had discovered the other man’s flask and they said:
“Och for goodness’ sake he’s wanting the flask, give him the flask, he’s going to bite our heads off,” because Fly is very determined, he’s going to take that flask. So they gave him the flask and that’s what he wanted and away he went back home and… and that was it.
[DAM:] That was it? That was it? Oh aye, yes. 
[TC:] Very quick.
[DAM:] Kenny, Kenneth Morrison’s dog, Coinneach [XX], apparently one day, I heard the story that old Kenneth was going to the post office and he was sort of a grieve on the island.
[TC:] What does that mean?
[DAM:] Like a, like a farm manager. Like a farm manager. Em, and he saw a dead sheep. Now, wool was very pricey in those days, it was worth a lot. Nowadays, it’s nothing. And he skinned the sheep. Apparently, there was this old lady crossing the hill a bit later and… unknown to Kenneth, when he skinned the sheep, he put the skin with the wool on a rock just to dry and he would pick it up on the way back from the post office. But unknown to him, Clyde lay down beside it and Kenneth carried on. And this, she saw the skin and she said:
“My Christmases have come in July.”
And she was, started to roll it up and take it with her. And then, Clyde appeared and he got hold of her skirt and then she realised the dog. And the dog started to growl and not only, she let the thing go, but the dog made her sit down, everytime she moved, the dog would get a hold of her skirt until Kenneth came. The dog meant to give her a red face, sort of thing. So that was Clyde, that’s the same dog.
[TC:] Aye, they’re amazing.
[DAM:] They’re amazing.
[TC:] So amazing… Very good. Do you know any stories about St Kilda?
[DAM:] Ehh… yes. 
[TC:] I was out there last summer.
[DAM:] Yes, I’ve been out three times. Now, well, you see the people that’s down here, all the houses in this part, Borve, was broken up in 1900. I think, probably the story goes that before the men went to the Boer War, that is the late 1800s, they were: 
‘Right, if you come back safe and sound, you will get land.’ 
So all those that did come back, when they did come, there was no word of giving them a plot of land so they just took the bull by the horns and put a spade on a shoulder and they walked down here. And they just put out lots of land for themselves. And then the factor must have gone back to the landlord and said: 
“My good man, these men mean business.” 
So that was the end of that. That was 1900 it was broken up and twenty-four crofters came down here. Em, and before that it was just, as I said before, a tack. And when they built it the first thing they did was the byre, and the steading for the cattle. And they slept, they slept in that byre the first, for the first summer, like my grandfather and grandmother and my father was twelve years old when they came down from the other end of the island, Beasdaire, to Borve here. And they were sleeping in the byre over there when this old man from St Kilda, used to come in to communion, and my grandfather, I think his name was Finlay, but my grandfather was talking to him and asked: 
“How did life meet him?” 
Or how was life since he last saw him, as he was coming every summer every year to the communion. And he said: 
“Well, they nearly lost me.”
One rule they had in St Kilda was they weren’t allowed to wildfowling on their own, there would have to be two. And they were the finest climbers in the world. But up they went and the, they each went to a crag of their own. Now, this old Finlay, he moored himself on a rock down a slope and then the sheer face of the rock. When he had five or six birds, now the house was getting short of food, and this was their only source of food, and to tell you the priceless… now I’ll have to rephrase that. I mean what it was worth to them, I mean, food was priceless, and they had to go out and get it this way. When he was, he had six or seven birds, so he was quite happy and he had a rope around the waist and he would just stick them in the rope. And he started to climb up, up the face and then up this very, very steep slope when the rope broke. And he just put his back to the rock, and he could feel himself sliding, sliding down, and eventually everything went quiet and he thought he had passed out. But as he opened his eyes he was conscious. And when he looked around him, he was sitting on the ledge with his feet dangling with about six, seven hundred feet to the sea. And my grandfather said: 
“What did you do?”
“Oh,” he says, “I started shouting to the other fellow.” 
Now this is the reason for them, the law they had, because St Kilda had a parliament of its own, this what they called the St Kilda parliament, because they met every morning to discuss the day’s work. And the other fellow came and he let him, let the rope down to him, 
and my grandfather – and this is what my father said that really amused him – now he says, my father asked him:
“I suppose you let the birds go?”
“Oh no,” he said, “they were the first to go up.”
Now that shows you the worth, I mean food was priceless, and that’s old Finlay, how near… how nearly he got lost. So they had a very rough time in St Kilda.
[TC:] Mhm, sin agad e.
[DAM:] Cut! [laughs]

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