GF016i07N NAIDHEACHD NA LUINGE



Beulaiche: Dòmhnall Nìll Eòin Mhóir | Dan Neil MacNeil
Tar-Sgrìobhadh: Oighrig NicFhraing | Effie Rankin



Bha piuthar m'athar a' fuireach an tacsa ruinn, taobh na loidhne. Agus thog i gille 's thug cuideigin long dha; chaidh a togail—chaidh a togail ri bùird bheaga. Agus bha i aige làmh ris. Mu dheireadh, bhiodh e dol sìos dha 'n chladach 's bha eagal air gu rachadh a bhàthadh, is bha eagal oirre gu rachadh a bhàthadh anns a'—leis a' long bheag—bha i 'na cnapach mór de long.



Ach cò dhiù, thuirt i ris an duine, latha bha seo, "Fhios agad," ars' ise, "tha eagal orm gun téid an gille beag a bhàthadh ris an long ud," ars' ise, "agus bheir a-mach," ars' ise, "a dh' iasgach i…" (Ris an canadh iad am Banca Beag a-muigh – bha sin suas ri mìle gu leth no suas ri dà mhìle bho 'n chladach.) "Caith," ars' ise, "mach ann an sin i," ars' ise, "is falbhaidh i dh' àiteigin ris an t-soirbheas."



Rinn e sin. Dh' fhalbh e 's chaith e—dh' fhàg e 'n long a-muigh air a' Bhanca 's an ceann a dhà no trì lathaichean, an ceann a dhà no trì lathaichean, cò—chaidh an duine aice sìos dha 'n chladach. Dé bh' air taobh a' bhàta ach an long bheag. Bha sin all right. Ars' ise, "Bheir sinn as a chéile long," ars ise. Agus bha tàirnean beag' innte; thug iad na tàirnean ás a' longa bheag a bha sin agus ghléidh i ann am botal e.



Nuair a dh'eug an duin' aice, sin—sin na tàirnean a chaidh 'san aodach a bha suas ris an déile gu h-àrd 'is a-nuas mun cuairt air an duin' aice fhéin. Nach robh sin a-nist neònach?



Translation:



My father's sister lived next to us—next to us—by the line; and she raised a boy and somebody gave him a boat which was built of small boards. And he had it with him. At last, he used to go down to the shore and he was afraid that he would be drowned. She was afraid that he would drown in the—with the little boat—it was quite a size of a boat.



Anyhow, she said to her husband one day, "You know," she said, "I am afraid the little fellow will be drowned by that boat," she said, "and you take it out fishing…" (What they called the Little Bank out there, that was close to a mile and a half or two miles from shore.)  "Throw it out there," said she, "and it will drift somewhere with the breeze."



He did that. Off he went and threw…he left the boat out on the Bank and after two or three days, after two or three days, who—her husband went down to the shore. What was beside the boat but the little boat. That was all right. She said, "We will take the boat apart," she said.  And it had small nails in it. They took the nails out of that small boat and she stored it (sic) in a bottle.



When her husband died, these—these were the nails that went into the cloth which was up against the wood above and down around her own husband. Now, wasn't that strange?