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The Story Of Island Roan
- Published 24 February 2008
- Scotland History
CHAPTER THREE
My boyhood days on Island Roan were very happy. During summer we spent our time searching for lobsters and crabs when the tide was out. Then we'd go climbing the cliffs in search of sea birds' eggs. We always went barefooted in summer and could climb the cliff face like monkeys. Nevertheless, it was risky, and we had many narrow escapes from falling 200 or 300 feet into the sea - and death. Two boys did lose their lives in this way. The reason we took such risks was that some visitors were very keen on getting blown eggs. Considerable care and patience had to be given to this process or else it would be a failure and a loss. After the eggs were blown we'd string them on a strong piece of cotton thread, different sizes and colours, with each bird's name on its egg. When done in this way the eggs looked very attractive.
But perhaps our most favourite ploy was searching for a bag of gold - and we thought it did exist. Here is the story that Betty Macdonald would tell us. Betty was the elder of two daughters of one of the first three families to inhabit the island. She lived there for 95 years, and never left the island. She was six years old at the time. One day the children saw a boat with a single occupant rapidly approaching the island, pursued by another boat which appeared to be manned by customs officers. The solitary voyager jumped ashore - he was dressed in a kind of uniform like a soldier, and he carried a bag on his back.
The strange figure scrambled up the steep path and ran past the amazed children. He made straight across the island at full speed, heading for the north side, with the children running hard in pursuit. In spite of his burden he easily outstripped the children, and when they reached the top of the hill which overlooked the fish cave they saw him coming out of the cave without the bag. When he saw the children were watching him he climbed up the hill and spoke to them in Gaelic. He seemed to be a merry fellow, for when they asked him what he had in the bag he laughed and said that it was a bag of gold. Then he spoke earnestly to them and told them that it lay in a place where the sunrise and sunset both touched. The customs men did not come ashore, and the strange vision departed. He was never seen again. Many were the hours we spent searching for the gold, but it was never found.
When I first went to school there were 18 pupils. Our dominie was an old man nearing retiring age. He was a great scholar, and a good English and Gaelic speaker and writer. One particular matter upset him annually. That was when the inspector was on his rounds. He would never come to the island, and our master would be ordered to take his pupils either to Tongue or Skerray. This order he bitterly resented, and very rightly so, as it did not give us a chance to do our best. One particular occasion still stands out vividly in my memory. It happened when I was in my second year at school. Our master received an order to take us to Tongue School for examination by the inspector. That meant a jouney of five miles by sea. Preparations were in progress very early for the trip as we were asked to be at Tongue School at 11:30 am. This meant that we had to leave the island at about 9:30.
The only four able-bodied men left on the island at this time of the year (June) - and they were in their 70's - got the boat ready. The sea was smooth, but there was a stiff breeze from the southwest and dead ahead of us. This meant a considerable lot of tacking, about a mile one way and then a mile the other, and this again prolonged the journey considerably. The boat was spraying badly, resulting in our all getting wet. Some of the girls were seasick as well. The spectacle we were presenting to our already angry master made him still more furious, and the people responsible for this trip were "torn to shreds" many times. The older boys were enjoying the whole show just the same, and had many good laughs that day and for many days and even years afterwards. Finally we arrived at Tongue pier at 11:45 am hungry, wet and seasick as well, certainly not fit for the mission we were on. However, we marched off for the school about a mile away.
When we arrived there the Tongue headmaster came to the door to greet us, and not knowing the reason for our late arrival, and not waiting for an explanation, he started to remonstrate with our master. This was more than our master could endure, and I am sure the Tongue headmaster was glad to be able to make himself scarce as quickly as possible. Immediately afterwards a lady teacher came on the scene, and in rather an abrupt manner ordered our master to separate us as quickly as possible into our respective classes as she was to take us and put us in with our corresponding numbers in the main classroom. This idea, of course, was dead against our master's idea. He knew very well this would not work with his flock, so he point blank refused to do it. He meant to have us examined by ourselves or not at all. The inspector was called to the scene. After he heard the story, and saw the state we were in, he told our master to take us home forthwith, and pleased we were to get away.
But when we arrived back at the pier the boat was gone - because of approaching bad weather - so we found, to our chagrin, that our troubles were in fact only beginning. Nobody knew of our plight. We had to retrace our steps. This time we had a seven mile walk in front of us to a point called Lamigo, directly opposite the island. To add to our difficulties there was a stiff breeze with a drizzle of rain right in our faces. However, we plodded on, the oder boys and girls carrying the youngest on their backs. Our poor old dejected master was doing his share in the carrying too.
We passed through Tongue village and carried on until we reached a small township called Coldbackie, almost halfway to our destination. At Coldbackie we were given tea and sandwiches by Mrs. Mackay (Cordach). She made us all welcome and was kindness itself. Her husband was a frequent visitor to the island in his capacity of butcher and sheep and cattle dealer. When he came on the scene and heard of our plight, he yoked the horse in the cart and volunteered to help some of the youngest a bit on our way, thus easing the burden on the older children. Every one of us was wet through. Our master trudged on in front, and we could hear him quite distinctly praying to God we would get home safely. Poor soul, he was terribly worried as he seemed to feel it was his fault. At 7:00pm we arrived at Lamigo. The sea by this time was very stormy. We made the recognised signal by setting some dried twigs alight. At last we saw the boat leave the island, and it was only then that we felt a little cheerful.On the way back we got another ducking as the boat was again spraying badly, but by this time we did not care, as we were more dead than alive. When at last we got home it was 9:00 in the evening!
My boyhood days on Island Roan were very happy. During summer we spent our time searching for lobsters and crabs when the tide was out. Then we'd go climbing the cliffs in search of sea birds' eggs. We always went barefooted in summer and could climb the cliff face like monkeys. Nevertheless, it was risky, and we had many narrow escapes from falling 200 or 300 feet into the sea - and death. Two boys did lose their lives in this way. The reason we took such risks was that some visitors were very keen on getting blown eggs. Considerable care and patience had to be given to this process or else it would be a failure and a loss. After the eggs were blown we'd string them on a strong piece of cotton thread, different sizes and colours, with each bird's name on its egg. When done in this way the eggs looked very attractive.
But perhaps our most favourite ploy was searching for a bag of gold - and we thought it did exist. Here is the story that Betty Macdonald would tell us. Betty was the elder of two daughters of one of the first three families to inhabit the island. She lived there for 95 years, and never left the island. She was six years old at the time. One day the children saw a boat with a single occupant rapidly approaching the island, pursued by another boat which appeared to be manned by customs officers. The solitary voyager jumped ashore - he was dressed in a kind of uniform like a soldier, and he carried a bag on his back.
The strange figure scrambled up the steep path and ran past the amazed children. He made straight across the island at full speed, heading for the north side, with the children running hard in pursuit. In spite of his burden he easily outstripped the children, and when they reached the top of the hill which overlooked the fish cave they saw him coming out of the cave without the bag. When he saw the children were watching him he climbed up the hill and spoke to them in Gaelic. He seemed to be a merry fellow, for when they asked him what he had in the bag he laughed and said that it was a bag of gold. Then he spoke earnestly to them and told them that it lay in a place where the sunrise and sunset both touched. The customs men did not come ashore, and the strange vision departed. He was never seen again. Many were the hours we spent searching for the gold, but it was never found.
When I first went to school there were 18 pupils. Our dominie was an old man nearing retiring age. He was a great scholar, and a good English and Gaelic speaker and writer. One particular matter upset him annually. That was when the inspector was on his rounds. He would never come to the island, and our master would be ordered to take his pupils either to Tongue or Skerray. This order he bitterly resented, and very rightly so, as it did not give us a chance to do our best. One particular occasion still stands out vividly in my memory. It happened when I was in my second year at school. Our master received an order to take us to Tongue School for examination by the inspector. That meant a jouney of five miles by sea. Preparations were in progress very early for the trip as we were asked to be at Tongue School at 11:30 am. This meant that we had to leave the island at about 9:30.
The only four able-bodied men left on the island at this time of the year (June) - and they were in their 70's - got the boat ready. The sea was smooth, but there was a stiff breeze from the southwest and dead ahead of us. This meant a considerable lot of tacking, about a mile one way and then a mile the other, and this again prolonged the journey considerably. The boat was spraying badly, resulting in our all getting wet. Some of the girls were seasick as well. The spectacle we were presenting to our already angry master made him still more furious, and the people responsible for this trip were "torn to shreds" many times. The older boys were enjoying the whole show just the same, and had many good laughs that day and for many days and even years afterwards. Finally we arrived at Tongue pier at 11:45 am hungry, wet and seasick as well, certainly not fit for the mission we were on. However, we marched off for the school about a mile away.
When we arrived there the Tongue headmaster came to the door to greet us, and not knowing the reason for our late arrival, and not waiting for an explanation, he started to remonstrate with our master. This was more than our master could endure, and I am sure the Tongue headmaster was glad to be able to make himself scarce as quickly as possible. Immediately afterwards a lady teacher came on the scene, and in rather an abrupt manner ordered our master to separate us as quickly as possible into our respective classes as she was to take us and put us in with our corresponding numbers in the main classroom. This idea, of course, was dead against our master's idea. He knew very well this would not work with his flock, so he point blank refused to do it. He meant to have us examined by ourselves or not at all. The inspector was called to the scene. After he heard the story, and saw the state we were in, he told our master to take us home forthwith, and pleased we were to get away.
But when we arrived back at the pier the boat was gone - because of approaching bad weather - so we found, to our chagrin, that our troubles were in fact only beginning. Nobody knew of our plight. We had to retrace our steps. This time we had a seven mile walk in front of us to a point called Lamigo, directly opposite the island. To add to our difficulties there was a stiff breeze with a drizzle of rain right in our faces. However, we plodded on, the oder boys and girls carrying the youngest on their backs. Our poor old dejected master was doing his share in the carrying too.
We passed through Tongue village and carried on until we reached a small township called Coldbackie, almost halfway to our destination. At Coldbackie we were given tea and sandwiches by Mrs. Mackay (Cordach). She made us all welcome and was kindness itself. Her husband was a frequent visitor to the island in his capacity of butcher and sheep and cattle dealer. When he came on the scene and heard of our plight, he yoked the horse in the cart and volunteered to help some of the youngest a bit on our way, thus easing the burden on the older children. Every one of us was wet through. Our master trudged on in front, and we could hear him quite distinctly praying to God we would get home safely. Poor soul, he was terribly worried as he seemed to feel it was his fault. At 7:00pm we arrived at Lamigo. The sea by this time was very stormy. We made the recognised signal by setting some dried twigs alight. At last we saw the boat leave the island, and it was only then that we felt a little cheerful.On the way back we got another ducking as the boat was again spraying badly, but by this time we did not care, as we were more dead than alive. When at last we got home it was 9:00 in the evening!
