CHAPTER FOUR

Our next teacher was a lady from Strathnaver. Her methods were entirely different from those to which we had been used, but she was first-class. She taught us most subjects, including singing, while she taught the girls sewing. She even taught the boys how to make their own clothes. When she first started in our school, she had her moments of great amusement. For example, with our old master we had spoken a lot of Gaelic in school. We had Gaelic names for all our books, consequently we didn't bother to acquaint ourselves with the English names. We referred in Gaelic also to other items connected with our education, so when our new teacher came on the scene and asked for this, that and the next thing in English, we, of course, were confused and bamboozled.

Many years later, while on a visit to her old home from the U.S.A., where she went to be married after leaving the island, she met me, and we had a long talk together. She spoke of the old school days. What had amused her most was when she had asked for any particular book and we did not know what she meant. Apparently we had put our heads together, asked each other in Gaelic what she was wanting now. Since she herself was a fluent Gaelic speaker, she easily understood what we were saying. That must indeed have been extremely amusing to her.

She was very fond of the sea and very quickly learned the art of rowing - so much so, that not very long after she came to Island Roan she'd cross over in a small boat from Skerray, two miles away. At times this could be a very tricky crossing, depending on the state of the tide. After two or three years under our new teacher, we all made good strides in our education, and we lost our fear of mixing with other children. We could hold our own way with the best of them, and we felt very proud.

On one particular occasion we were asked to go to Skerray school for our examinations. I was in Class Five at the time. The inspector recommended four of us for higher education. Only one of the four took advantage of this, and ended up a chief superintendent engineer. Our teacher was extremely delighted with us that day, and it was one of the highlights of her career on the island. At the end of the school term the following year, and, strangely enough, coinciding with her departure from the island, nine of us left school. Although there were three or four pupils coming in, our leaving was a severe blow. Never again did the number of pupils go above 12. The decline had set in, and from then on, as in many another Highland township, there were many vacant seats, until, in the end, several years later, the school door closed for the last time.

The island folks were very religious. The Sabbath day and all its rules were strictly observed. In favourable weather a number of the people would go over to the mainland to attend church at Skerray. If this could not be done, a service would be held, both morning and evening, in the school. Woe betide us children if we were caught playing on that day. It was customary in every home on the island to have family prayers morning and evening, on Sunday. The catechism would be brought out by the head of the family, and each member had to repeat both question and answer in Gaelic as it was laid down in that wee book. Children had to go through the same performance as their elders.

I well remember, when I was a young boy, my grandfather taking me on his knee on Sunday night and expounding from the Gaelic catechism the meaning of all the commandments. My childish brain would be all in a muddle not realising then what it all meant. All the same, on many occasions afterwards, when temptations would be coming my way, I would always remember what I was taught in my childhood, and would adhere to what I believed to be the right path.

As I have already mentioned, medical assistance was seldom called for on the island, and when it happened that such assistance was vitally necessary, it was a laborious job to get the doctor. A boat would have to go to Tongue pier for him and bring him back again, a distance of five miles each way. However, in case of unsuitable weather the doctor would go to Lamigo, the nearest point from the island on the mainland. This, of course, meant paying for a horse and gig from the hotel.

At the beginning of the century there was a doctor in Tongue who happened to be of very small stature. He was full of humour and a fluent Gaelic speaker. Oddly enough he never cared to speak the old language very much, and very rarely to his patients, even if they could not understand English. On one occasion, while visiting the island, he found the weather too rough to land. One of the crew had to carry him on his back across large slippery boulders to the shore. It was one Donald who volunteered for the job. When Donald and the doctor were two or three yards away from the boat, another member of the crew shouted in Gaelic, "Is there much weight in him, Donald?" Donald paused, turned his head halfway round and shouted back in the same language, "No, about the weight of a small cockerel." Then off he went again, staggering on the slippery rocks. The doctor, lying on Donald's back, was enjoying the whole thing immensely, so with his mouth close to Donald's ear he whispered in Gaelic, "A little more than that, Donald; a little more than that." He then burst out laughing. Donald got such a shock that he let the doctor slip off his back and they both fell into a pool of sea water. Two of the crew had to come to the rescue, and between them carry the doctor along to the shore and him laughing all the time, when they finally set him on dry land. He thanked them and said in Gaelic, "Well, boys, that was worth the wetting; I tell you I enjoyed it."

Incidentally, although the language of the island was Gaelic, with the exception of two or three of the men, all could understand English and speak it as well. All the men folk, of course, were away all the summer amongst English speaking people. It was the women who never got the chance to get away who found themselves in an awkward situation when confronted with visitors.

In earlier years when there were no men left on the island during the summer months, the women did all the work connected with the sea. Accordingly, they became expert boatswomen. They had in their crew of six one woman who could not speak Gaelic. She came from Orkney. She was my grandmother, and when she married my grandfather and came to live on the island she did not realise at the time what was ahead of her. I remember quite well her telling me how she would be crying to herself when the others in the boat would be blethering away in a language she could not understand. However, as time went on, she began to learn the language, and after a few years could speak it fluently.