Duncan MacDonald’s Life Story–III [Fishing and Poaching]

A previous blog offered a summary of Duncan MacDonald’s life story. It may be divided into a few sections of varying lengths. Here is offered the third part (NFC 1180, pp. 171–203) where MacDonald related to Calum Maclean his adventures whilst fishing and poaching. The opportunity has been taken to modernise the Gaelic orthography and also to offer a translation.

Iasgach agus Poitseadh

Thall mu 1907 bhithinn fhìn is gillean òga eile O! gu math bicheanta a’ falbh a phoitseadh agus ’s ann gu Abhainn Ghèadaraidh mar bu bhitheanta agus cha robh rathad againn air a dhol ann air an latha ach air an oidhche, ach cinnteach gu leòr gheibheamaid leisgeulan uaireannan a bheireadh ann air an latha sinn. ’S e sin bhitheamaid a’ falbh a-mach a bhuain fhraoich, a bhuain eallach fraoich airson siaman a dhèanamh agus cha robh ròpa ruadh a’ dol san àm agus ’s e siaman fraoich a bhiodh air na taighean agus air an arbhar agus bhìte ag iasgach san abhainn a h-uile cothrom a-mach an rathad romhainn agus nuair a ruigeamaid ar ceann-uidhe far am buaineamaid am fraoch bha sinn a’ coimhead bhuainn feuch dè ghabhadh dèanamh agus a’ dol chuairtean chon na h-aibhneadh a chionn chan fhaighte fraoch uair sam bith ach aig taobh na h-aibhneadh. Agus an uidheam iasgaich a bh’ againn ’s am bata agus dubhan air a theannachadh mu cheann le streing agus bhitheamaid a’ feuchainn fon bhata agus nuair a thachradh am breac oirnn fon bhata bhathar a’ tionndadh an dubhain is ga charadh ann. Agus dhèanadh duine sin le pàr a laimheadh. Cha robh e gu diofar oidhche na latha, nam faighinn air mo mhàgan gu bruaich na h-aibhneadh chan fhàgainn aon fhear fo na bruachan on darna ceann dhen lingidh chon a’ chinn eile le pàr. Agus is iomadach uair a chaith mi fear a-staigh chon a’ ghlais agus chan fhaicinn sealladh air. Cha bhiodh fhios ’m cà rachainn ga iarraidh ach gum bithinn a’ feitheamh fiach cà ’n cluinninn e a’ stealladaich is a’ leumadraich feadh a’ chnuic airson a dhol air a thòir ann, leis a’ bhata is an dubhan ann ga chaitheamh a-staigh. Agus nuair a bhiodh an t-eallach fraoich againn air a bhuain bha sinn a’ cur nam breac ann an lùib an fhraoich agus e air a theannachadh le ròpa ann a shin an lùib an fhraoich agus bha sinn an uair sin a’ càradh an eallaich air ar muin agus a’ tighinn dhachaigh leis. Agus ma dh’fhaodhte air ar rathad dhachaigh – cha robh àite as am faca sinn fear air a dhol a-mach nach robh fios againn air, dh’fhaodte gum faigheamaid chothrom an uair sin a chionn bha sinn a’ sealltainn ’ugainn is bhuainn fad an latha feuch cà ’m biodh an geamair agus bhiodh fhios againn air ar tighinn co-dhiù bhitheamaid sàbhailte na a chaochladh mun abhainn o nàmhaid sam bith a thigeadh an rathad. Agus iomadach uair an sineach bhiodh sinn a’ falbh air an oidhche. Tha beachd agam aon oidhche a dh’fhalbh mi fhìn agus gille eile agus dh’fhalbh sinn mu uair na dhà sa mhadainn agus mi ann am beachd gun robh an abhainn sùighte agus nuair a ràine sinn an abhainn bha i gu math domhainn agus cha ghabhadh tàbhach–’s e a bheiremaid ris an t-seòrsa iasgaich a bh’ ann, cha ghabhadh tàbhach dèanamh idir. Ach chum sinn romhainn gu ceann àrd na h-aibhneadh agus ’s e dà bhreac a fhuair sinn shuas ann an siud. Bha i na b’ aodaine ann. Agus bha a-nist soilleireachadh an latha ann agus bha sinn a-nist a-muigh as a’ bheinn agus fada o na dachaighean agus bha a’ mhadainn cho fluich agus cha robh sinn a’ dol a theannadh ri buain fhraoich, a chionn bha e cho trom is cho fliuch agus nan tilleamaid a-staigh dhachaigh choinnicheadh am fear-glèidhidh a’ dol a-mach sinn. Ach ’s e an rud a rinn sinn, dh’fhalbh sinn agus dhìrich sinn a’ Bheinn Mhòr agus ghabhadh a-mach agus ràine sinn taigh cìobair a bh’ ann an Teiriosdal air an taobh eile, an taobh an ear aig a’ chladach agus bha sinn ann a shin fad an latha agus feasgar anmoch thug sinn ar n-aghaidh air tighinn dachaigh agus nuair a nochd sinn ris a’ bhaile air taobh a-staigh na beinne bha sinn a’ faicinn solas nan taighean agus bha gealach bhreàgha ann cuideachd agus ghabh sinn chon na h-aibhneadh agus cha robh dad de dh’ iasg idir orra. Ach, co-dhiù, chum sinn a-nuas romhainn fad an t-siubhail agus nuair a thàine sinn chon a’ bhaile, cha deach sinn dhachaigh idir ach chaidh sinn air chèilidh do thaigh a bha goirid dhan abhainn agus nuair a bha e suas ma aon uair deug a dh’ oidhche na eadar sin agus meadhan-oidhche, a thaobh e a bhith cho soilleir bha e mòr linn feuchainn air an iasgach roimhe sin. Bhiodh falbhan dhaoine air ais is air aghaidh agus a-niste bhiodh daoine a’ gabhail mu thàmh agus chaidh sinn chon na h-aibhneadh an uair sin agus ’s e tàbh a bh’ againn.

Bha maide fada tana ann mu thrì na ceithir a throighean. Bha an uair sin beul wire air a chur ris. Bha e cruinn sios mar gum biodh bàlas. Bha an lìon air a cheangal ris a’ wire a bh’ ann a shin. Bhiodh mu leth-aitheamh a dh’ fhad as an lìon agus e a’ tighinn gu osan caol air a’ cheann a b’ fhaide air falbh dheth. Bha e air a chur ann an cabhail as an abhainn. Bha balla air gach taobh. Bha am maide fada air a chur tarsaing agus am beul sìos san uisge. Bha clach air gach ceann den mhaide agus am beul sìos. Bha an t-iasg a’ tighinn agus bha e a’ gabhail a-staigh fon mhaide agus sìos as an osan:

Bha a-nist an tàbh air a cur às an abhainn agus breac mu seach mur a thigeadh bha e a’ gabhail sìos dhan tàbh. A-nist cha robh dad a’ tighinn air a’ chiad chuid dhen oidhche. Ach, co-dhiù, dh’fhalbh sinne, mi fhìn agus an gille a bha còmhla rium agus chaidh sinn do thaigh a bha goirid dhan abhainn, taigh bana-charaid dhuinn fhìn agus bha sinn ann greis agus shealladh sìos a-rithist a dh’ ionnsaigh na h-aibhneadh agus bha tonn mhath èisg as an tàbh agus a bharrachd air na bha às an tàbh bha mòran as a’ ghlumaig air a bheulaibh nach deach sìos idir fhathast innte agus e an rud a rinn mi fhìn dìreach tòiseachadh air an caitheamh a-staigh leis an dubhan agus e agam ceangailte ann am barr maide agus eadar na chaidh mi a-staigh agus na thug sinn às an tàbh uair na dhà mun tàinig soilleireachadh an latha bha dà fhichead agus a h-ochd deug againn de bhric. Agus fhuair sinn dà phoca, poca bolla agus poca thrì earrannan agus chuireadh deagh chuid às gach fear agus a thaobh agus gun robh an latha a’ tighinn cha robh rathad againn air a’ thoirt dhachaigh ach chuir sinn dhan taigh a bha seo iad, taigh bana-charaid dhomh fhìn agus bha iad ann an siud gus an ath-oidhche. Dh’fhalbh mi fhìn agus mo chompanach dhachaigh ach ghabh sinn rathadan dealaichte o chèile. Cha b’ ann air an aon rathad a chaidh sinn dhachaigh eagal is gun gaibhte amharas oirnn. Agus an ath-oidhch’ air an sin thugadh dhachaigh an t-iasg agus fhuair sinn tuilleadh an ath-oidhch’ cuideachd. Ach, co-dhiù, bha sinn a’ sàbhaladh air an luchd-glèidhidh. Ach bha mi fhìn aon oidhche shònraichte as a’ cheart àite agus bha mi a’ fuireach aig an tàbh gus am biodh e suas eadar a naoidh is a deich a dh’ uaireannan agus bha mo bhràthair air às a dheaghaidh sin: nach tigeadh am fear-glèidhidh mun cuairt co-dhiù tuilleadh, a chionn cha tigeadh fear sam bith dhen t-seòrsa is dithis aca ann. Agus bha mi a’ fàs fuar agus thuirt mi rium fhìn gu falbhainn às an seo an-dràsta, nach tigeadh duine dhen luchd-glèidhidh a-nochd tuilleadh agus thàine mi a-nall tarsaing air an abhainn agus ghabh mi sìos ceum na dhà taobh na h-aithneadh agus bha an oidhche car dorcha agus bha dìreach dithis dhaoine suas gus a bhith agam. Agus cha do ghabh mi eagal na fiamh agus cha mhutha na sin a sheall mi e le gluasad. Cha d’rinn mi ach an cnoc a bha os mo chionn a dhìreadh suas gu socair agus ghabh à-san a-mach taobh na h-aibhneadh air mo chùluibh. Agus cha do shaoil iad riamh a thaobh cho socair agus cho beag fiamh na eagal is a bha air an duine gur a h-e poitsear a bh’ ann idir agus nuair a fhuair mi deagh phìos os an cionn, bha mi nam ghille aotrom sgiobalta, dh’fhalbh mi cho luath is a ghabhainn an uair sin agus thug mi mo cheart-aire nach fhaiceadh na nach airicheadh à-san mi agus thàine mi chon na h-aibhneadh aon chairteal a mhìle an taobh a-muigh dhen àite an robh sinn agus chaidh mi air mo bheul fodham ann an sin aig taobh na h-aibhneadh. Bha a-nist eilean beag ann am meadhan na h-aibhneadh agus thuirt mi rium fhin:

“Feumaidh a-nist an luchd-glèidhidh a dhol seachad orm a-mach ma falbh mise às an seo na mun till mi dhan cheart àite às an d’fhalbh mi.”

Agus bha mi ann an sin tacan a dh’ ùine a’ feitheamh agus dh’airich mi an seo slapracan a’ tighinn. Agus thàinig an dithis dhaoine agus ghabh iad a-mach seachad orm agus nuair a chaidh iad seachad orm a-mach gheàrr mi staireag agus thuirt mi rium fhìn:

“Tha mi air neo-air-thaing a-nochd tuilleadh.”

Agus thill mi air ais a dh’ ionnsaigh an tàibh agus bha e gu sàbhailte as an abhainn. Ach ’s e a-nist an cùram bu mhutha a bh’ orm gun cromadh an dithis dhaoine dhan cheart àite san robh mi agus gum faigheadh iad an tàbh agus gu fanadh iad aig an tàbh – feuch am faiceadh iad cò thigeadh ’uige mun tigeadh an latha. Agus sin an rud a chuir mise a-mach rompa agus bha mi a’ feitheamh gus a rachadh iad seachad orm agus mura rachadh iad seachad orm far an robh mi air mo bheul fodha air an eilean cha tiginn-sa fad na h-oidhche tuilleadh an còir an tàibh, a chionn bhithinn cinnteach gum biodh à-san gam fheitheamh ann agus sin agad turas dhe na tursan bu dhùithe a chaidheadh riamh orm aig poitseadh. Ach bha mi gu math diarrasach chon na h-obrach agus nuair a bha mi dìreach mu bhliadhna air fhichead bha mi oidhche shònraichte airson a dhol chon na h-aibhneadh agus cha robh companach agam ach mo bhràthair a b’ òige a bha a-staigh. Bha e gu math òg cuideachd. Cha bhiodh e ach mu chòig bliadhna deug agus thug mi leam còmhla rium e agus bha mùg-ghealach ann agus chaidh sinn a-mach pìos taobh na h-aithneadh agus nuair a ràine sinn an t-àite iasgaich, theann mi fhìn air feuchainn agus fhuair mi cnapanach de bhreac agus bha e aig mo bhràthair ga thoirt leis agus bha mi fhìn a’ feuchainn airson tuilleadh. Ach thuirt esan an seo rium:

“Dè,” ors’ e fhein, “na rudan glasa a tha air taobh eile na h-aibhneadh ann a shiud?”

Thug mi fhìn sùil agus bha dìreach an dà gheamair ann an sin air am beul fopa air cnoc. Cha d’rinn sinn ach gabhail a-mach seachad orra agus theann mise air mo bhràthair a theagasg:

“Na innis thusa idir cò bha còmhla riut agus cha bheir iad orm-sa co-dhiù.”

Ach bha mo bhràthair, cha robh e airson mise a dhealachadh ris agus thuirt mi ris:

“Tha an oidhche soilleir gu leòr. Tille’ tu dhachaigh agus air na cunna tu riamh, na gabh ris cò bha còmhla riut.”

Agus dh’airich sinn an seo à-san a’ tighinn agus bha iad a’ tighinn agus bha iad a’ dlùthachadh oirnn ach bha mise a’ teagasg mo bhràthair cho math is a ghabhadh dèanamh agus thuirt mi ris mu dheireadh: “Fhalbh, Fhalbh,” orsa mi fhìn, “feumaidh mise falbh. ’S e mise a tha a dhìth orra.”

Agus dh’fhalbh mi agus dh’fhalbh am fear a b’ òige dhe na geamairean agus às mo dheaghaidh. Agus dh’fhalbh mise gu math agus bha mi cinnteach gu leòr nach beireadh e orm agus nuair a bha mi a’ teannadh air àite sònraichte dhen abhainn is mi fhìn gu math eòlach orra, theann mi a-mach buaipe gu math agus nuair a bha mi a’ smaointinn gun robh deagh roid agam eadar mi fhìn is an abhainn thàine mi a dh’ ionnsasigh na h-aibhne gu math le roid agus ghearradh cruinn leum tarsaing oirre. Agus thug mi an uair sin sùil air mo chùla agus as an dol seachad dhomh air an abhainn cuideachd rug meòirean a’ gheamair air iorball na seachaid agam ach cho do chum e idir mi agus thionndaidh mi air a’ bhruaich thall agus choimhead mi agus bha an geamair air an taobh eile agus e fhèin, chrùb e a’ coimhead agus dh’ èibh e, “Cò seo?” ach cha do fhreagair mise idir. Cha d’rinn mi ach tarraing air falbh cho luath agus bh’ agam. Agus thàine mi dhachaigh cuideachd agus cha robh mi fada a’ dèanamh an astair agus cha tuirt mi guth ri duine a bha a-staigh, ri athair na ri màthair ach ghabh mi dhan rùm sìos agus chaith mi dhìom mo chuid aodaich a bha fliuch agus fhuair mi paidhir de bhrògan iseal, tioram ciatach agus chàireadh umam iad agus dh’fhalbh mi cho luatha is a bh’ agam air chèilidh a thaigh eile agus bha mo bhràthair gun tighinn, ach bha e dìreach nuair a chaidh mi a-mach air an doras a-nuas chon an taighe. Cha do dh’fhan mi ri bruidhinn ris na sìon ach dh’fhalbh mi agus an dearbh taigh dhan deach mi air chèilidh, bha fear eile dhe na geamairean ann a shin a-staigh agus bha mi fhìn agus e fhèin agus muinntir an taighe ann a sineach a’ cur seachad na h-oidhche gu dòigheil agus cha robh lethuair a dh’ ùine eadar an geamair eile a bhith gam ruith agus mi a bhith còmhla ris an fhear seo socair sàmhach air chèilidh agus bha fear an taighe a’ dèanamh airson falbh a Glashu làr-na-mhàireach agus thug e air a’ gheamair a chlipeadh agus nuair a thàinig an sin àm dol dhachaigh, dh’fhalbh mi fhìn is an geamair agus ’s ann a dh’fhalbh mi fhìn còmhla ris a’ gheamair pìos dhen rathad air an robh mi a’ dol, ga chuir dhachaigh goirid dhan taigh co-dhiù. Bha sinn a’ bruidhinn agus ri seanchas agus nuair a bha sinn dlùth a thaigh a’ gheamair thill mi fhìn agus chaidh mi dhachaigh dha mo dhachaigh fhìn. Agus an làr-na-mhàireach a-nist, chunnaic an geamair a bh’ ann an seo am fear a bha gam ruith fhìn an raoir agus dh’innis e dhà gum faca e mi air an abhainn a-raoir agus gun a rug e orm. 

“An dà, gu dearbh fhèine,” ors’ an geamair a bh’ air chèilidh còmhla rium fhìn, “agus an duine sin còmhla rium-sa air chèilidh na leithid seo a thaigh a-raoir.”

“Dè ’n t-àm aig an robh thu ga ruith?”

“Bha, mu sheachd uairean.”

“Sin an dearbh àm a bha e còmhla rium-sa air chèilidh,” agus thòisich an dithis air comhdach air a chèile. Ach, co-dhiù, cha robh an geamair a bha ag ràdha gun a rug e orm fhìn toilichte am fear eile a bhith ag ràdha gun robh mi còmhla ris air chèilidh agus e uile – chinnteach gur h-e mi bha ann. Ach, co-dhiù, ’s e an rud a rinn e latha na cunntais a-nall mu Fhèill Martainn thug e suas dhan bhàillidh mi fhìn agus bhruidhinn am bàillidh ri m’ athair air mo shon agus thuirt m’ athair ris a’ bhàillidh nach robh sìon a dh’ fhios aige-san mu leithid agus dh’iarr am bàillidh air mi fhìn a chur sìos far an robh e nuair a rachadh e dhachaigh agus thàinig m’ athair dhachaigh a dh’innseadh dhomh fhìn facal air an fhacal mar a bha agus dh’fhalbh mi sìos far an robh am bàillidh. Bha e dìreach deiseil airson falbh dhachaigh is a’ chunntais ullamh is thuirt an geamair ris as an spot a ràine mi fhìn.

“O!” ors’ an geamair, “this is the man. This is the man.”

Thàinig am bàillidh is chuir e fàilte orm fhìn is dh’fhaighneachd e dhìom an robh mi air an abhainn air a leithid seo a dh’ oidhche ag iasgach:

“Cha robh, gu dearbha,” ors’ mi fhìn.

Thionndaidh e ris a’ gheamair:

“Na rug thusa air an duine seo air an abhainn air a leithid seo a dh’ oidhche?”

“Well,” ors’ an geamair, “cha do rug mi idir air ach tha fios ’m gur a h-e a bh’ ann.”

“O!” ors’ am bàillidh, “cha dèan e feum sam bith agad air ach sin.”

“O! chan eil,” ors’ an geamair. “Chan eil cinnt sam bith agam ach tha deagh chinnt agam gur h-e a bh’ ann, e fhèin agus a bhràthair.

“O!” ors’ am bàillidh, “mura bheil agad, mur do rug thusa air,” ors’ esan, “tha an duine sàbhailte gu leòr. Faoda’ tu,” ors’ esan, “Macdonald, faoda’ tu a dhol dhachaigh.”

Ach bha an geamair air a thàmailteachadh agus bha geamairean eile air an tàmailteachadh cuideachd mar a dh’èirich dha. Agus bha mi an seoach beagan às a dheaghaidh seo thall ann am Beinne na Faoghla agus b’ aithnte dhomh an geamair a bh’ ann an sin mun tàinig e a Bheinne na Faoghla riamh a chionn ’s e Anndra MacFhionghuin a bh’ ann. Agus a thaobh gun robh mi fhìn is e fhèin às a’ Cheann a Deas, thachair e orm goirid dhan hotel. Chaidh sinn a-staigh agus bha dram againn.

“O!” ors’ an geamair a bh’ ann an seo rium fhìn, Anndra, “nach tu a bha luath an oidhche ud.”

“Cò ’n oidhche?” orsa mi fhìn.

“An oidhche,” ors’ esan, “a bha Murchadh gad ruith.”

“Nam bithinn ann,” orsa mi fhìn, “Anndra, cha robh geamair aig Lady Cathcart a bheireadh orm. Tha mi fuathasach, fuathasach moiteil às an fhear a bh’ ann nach do rug e air.”

“O!” ors’ Anndra, “dh’aithnich mise ann an seo ach nuair a chuala ris mun chùis gura tu a bh’ ann.”

“O! chan eil mise,” orsa mi fhìn, “a’ dol a chur moit sam bith asam fhìn is a’ dol a ràdha gura mi a bh’ ann. Ach nam bithinn ann, cha bheirear tusa na aon fhear eile a bh’ ann a seirbheis Lady Cathcart orm-sa an oidhche ud.”

Agus dh’fhairtlich air a-nist, Anndra gun tugadh e dhìom e agus cha do dh’innis mi do dhuine riamh e agus tha a h-uile geamair a th’ ann agus am bàillidh marbh bliadhnaichean roimhe seo agus tha mise a-nist coma ged a dh’ innsinn dìreach a-mach e mar […text missing]

Bhithemaid cuideachd ag iasgach le slat agus le beairt ach chan e cuileag a bhiodh againn uair sam bith ach boiteag agus àrca air a’ bheairt agus nuair a bhuaileadh breac air an dubhan is a bheireadh e ribeadh air bha e a’ toirt fodha na h-àrca agus cha robh agad an uair sin ach an t-slat a tharraing agus am breac a thoirt gu tìr ach cha bhiodh ann ach cudaigean beaga. Cha mhòr a b’ fhiach iad agus cha bhiodh an luchd-glèidhidh a’ sealltainn air an abhainn aig an àm a bhiodh ann a shin ann. Cha bhiodh ann ach cudaigean beaga ach bhiodh feadhainn dhiubh glè chnapach, gasda air a shon sin.

Bha mi fhìn oidhche, mi fhìn agus dithis ghillean eile a bha san aon bhaile rium ann an Snaoiseabhal air abhainn Ghèidearaidh a’ tàbhach bhreac. Cha robh inneal againn ach dubhan air a cheangal le streing gu teann cruaidh ann am barra bata agus am bata a bh’ ann a shin ’s e lorg de chaol dubh, lorg làidir cuideachd. Agus cha robh mi an uair sin ach mu bhliadhna air fhichead a dh’ aois agus bha càch dìreach suas mun aon aois rium fhìn. Agus bha sinn a’ faighinn an èisg fuathasach pailt agus dh’fhaighneachd mi fhìn an seo ach dhen treas fear againn gille air an robh Lachlainn mar ainm, fear Seonstanach:

“A bheil am poca agad a-nochd, a Lachlainn?”

“Chan eil,” ors’ esan.

“Dhia,” orsa mi fhìn, “tha tonn èisg an seo a rachadh na bhroinn.”

“O! ged a tha,” ors’ esan.

Chaidh an uair sin an t-iasg a chur air gad agus nuair a bha sinn a’ falbh às an àite a bh’ ann a shin a-niste agus an t-isag a’ fàs gann ann agus sinn a’ dol a dh’ fheuchainn an àite eile.

“An-dà,” ors’ an gille a bha a’ tarraing a’ ghad èisg, “tha an gad air fàs glè throm gun a thoirt air an astar a tha sin a-mach. Nam biodh am poca againn!”

Agus dh’fhalbh an gille air an robh Lachlainn an uair sin agus dh’fhosgail e a pheiteag agus bha am poca air a chur dìreach thimcheall a’ chuim a-null fon pheiteig.

“Carson,” orsa mi fhin, “nach toirea’ tu dhuinn am poca o chionn fada?”

“Hu, hu,” ors’ esan, “nan toireadh, chan fhaighea’ tusa uiread a dh’ iasg gus a dhol na bhroinn. Thug mi am follais oidhcheannan roimhid e,” ors’ e fhèin, “agus cha d’fhuair sinn sìon a rachadh na bhroinn agus cha robh mi airson a thoirt ann am follais a-nochd,” ors’ e fhèin, “gus am biodh iasg gu leòr againn a rachadh na bhroinn agus cuiridh sinn a-nist ann.”

Agus sin a cheart oidhche, tha mi a’ smaointinn, neo oidhche eile, a bha sinn a’ tighinn on abhainn agus na h-eallaich èisg againn. Bha mi fhìn fad na h-oidhche a’ faireachdainn agus a’ cluinntinn mo chuid aodaich a’ stracadh agus leis cho trang ’s a bha an obair cha robhar a’ sealltainn deorda bha a’ stracadh. Ach, co-dhiù, bha sinn a seo a’ tighinn dhachaigh agus na h-eallaich againn agus leig sinn anail air seana-ghàrradh ploc a thachair oirnn air an rathad. Mun a ràine sinn an gàrradh bha mi fhìn a’ faireachdainn rud air choreigin de stiall aodaich a’ dol mum chasan, ach cha robh rathad agam air cromadh a dh’ fheuchainn ach, co-dhiù, nuair a leig sinn anail air a’ ghàrradh phloc a bh’ ann a seo, dh’fheuch mi sìos mo làmh agus dh’fheuch mi mu bheul na bròigeadh agus dè bha sin ach an lèine agam an dèis tighinn a-mach air barr osan na briogais agus shrac i, mun cuairt fon chrios cùil uile gu lèir fo na h-achlaisean agus dh’fhan i dìreach slàn aig an fhuaghal a bha air a cliathaich agus chaidh i sìos ann an osan na briogais agus ’s i a bha a’ dol mum chasan. Cha d’rinn mi sìon saoghalta ach breith oirre agus dà char a chur dhith mu bharr osan na briogais ann an snaoim agus a toir’ dhachaigh mar sin. Agus nuair a thàine sinn dhachaigh an uair sin, chaidh mise dhachaigh dhan taigh againn fhìn. Chaidh à-san dhan dachaighean fhèin. Chuir mi dhìom agus mi a’ dol a leabaidh agus dh’fhalbh mi an uair sin agus na bha ceangailte dhen lèinidh gheàrr mi dheth e air a chliathaich agus shad mi bhuam e. Chaidh mi a chadal leis na fillein a bha fo na h-achlaisean agam agus fhuair mi an làr-na-mhàireach lèine eile na h-àite.

Sin agaibh a-nist mar a bhiodh ag èirigh iomadach uair do ghillean a bhiodh air falbh fad oidhche a’ poitseadh bhreac.

Triùir a’ poitseadh

A-nist b’ aithnte dhomh triùir dhaoine eile ann an Togha Beag agus bha a h-uile duine aca na b’ aosda na mise agus tha iad marbh a-niste an triùir aca. Tha, o chionn cunntais bhliadhnaichean. Ach chunna mise a h-uile h-aon aca ann an treun a neart agus ’s e deagh phoitsearan a bh’ annta cuideachd agus neo-air-thaing nach robh tlachd aca fhèin a bhith ag obair. Agus a-nist bha tàbh mòr aig dithis aca agus bha e ro mhòr gus a bhith ga tharraing eadar na dachaighean agus a’ bheinn, a chionn bhiodh e fuathasach soilleir a bhith ga fhaicinn a’ falbh is a’ tighinn aca agus bha e daonnan air fhàgail a-muigh as a’ bheinn agus bhiodh iad a’ falbh am freasdal bata de dh’ inneal agus nuair a ruigeadh iad an t-iasg orra, bha iad a’ faighinn an tàibh agus ga chàradh san abhainn. Agus an latha a bh’ ann a seoach dh’fhalbh dithis aca a-mach agus fhuair iad an tàbh. Agus chaidh iad gu abhainn ris an canar Abhainn Airigh na Liùg agus chuir iad an tàbh. Agus gu dè a-niste ach a bha am fear a mhuinntir Hogha Bige an treas fear dhen triùir, bha e a-muigh rompa. Agus ’s ann a bha an dithis a-niste aig an robh an tàbh car gruamach ris agus a’ faicinn le esan a bhith còmhla riutha nach biodh uiread de dh’ iasg aca fhèin agus ’s ann a theann iad ri dhoichealladh. Ach sheas esan air bruaich na h-aibhneadh ag amharc orra-san agus chuir iad an tàbh agus dh’fhan fear dhiubh na sheasamh san abhainn air cùl an tàibh. Agus dh’fhalbh am fear eile suas feadh na h-aibhne a thàbhach agus a chuir fuadach air an iasg a-nuas air chor agus gu rachadh iad an greim san tàbh. A-nist cha robh a-bhos aig an tàbh ach am fear a bha a’ cumail an tàibh san abhainn agus an coigreach a bha san t-srath bhuapa gan coimhead. Agus chunnaic iad an seo fear a’ tighinn, am breac a-nuas feadh na h-aibhneadh agus e air a’ fuadach a ghabhail – steall thall is a-bhos aige feadh nan clach agus nuair a ràinig e an sin a’ ghlumag a bh’ air cùl an tàibh, an àite gabhail dhan tàbh nuair a chunnaic e roimhe e, thug e mun cuairt agus laigh e as a’ ghlumaig agus dh’fhalbh am fear a bha air bruaich na h-aibhneadh agus am bata na dhòrn agus an dubhan gu math teann cruaidh air a cheangal na cheann agus chuir e a-mach am bata agus shrad e a-staigh am breac a bh’ ann an sin.

“Seadh,” ors’ am fear a bha a’ cumail an tàibh san abhainn, “tha thu air fear fhaighinn.” 

“Tha,” ors’ am fear sin, “fear an siud.”

Ach cha b’ fhada an seo gun tàinig an ath bhreac agus ràinig e an tàbh agus nuair a chunnaic e an tàbh roimhe, thill e mun cuairt agus laigh e as a’ ghlumaig. Agus dh’fhalbh am fear a bha na sheasamh air bruaich na h-aibhneadh agus chuir e a-mach am bata agus shrad e a-staigh am fear sin.

“Shin tha,” ors’ am fear a bh’ air cùl an tàibh, “tha thu air fear eile fhaighinn.”

“Tha,” ors’ am fear sin.

“’S ann is fheàrr dhut,” ors’ am fear a bha a’ cumail an tàibh san abhainn, “a dhol sa chompany againn fhìn a-nist agus bi an t-iasg eadrainn nar triùir, brith dè na gheibh sinn.”

“Hò,” ors’ am fear eile, “tha mise,” ors’ esan, “a’ dèanamh math gu leòr mar a tha mi gan a dhol sa chompany agaibh idir.”

“Tha, a mhic an fhir ad,” ors’ am fear a bha san abhainn, “tha thusa a’ dèanamh math gu leòr mar a tha thu, ach a bheil thu a’ smaointinn gum bheil mise gus a bhith a’ cumail tàibh ann an seo riut, gus thusa a bhith a’ faighinn èisg?”

“O! ma-tà,” ars am fear eile, “leig às e.”

“Leig às e!” ars’ am fear a bha san abhainn agus e a’ coimhead gu danarraidh. “Cha leig mi às e. Ma leigeas mi às e, cha bhi sìon idir ann.”

“O!” ors’ am fear a bh’ air tìr, “tha mise a’ dèanamh iasgach gu leòr.”

Agus gar bith diamar a chaidh dhaibh às a dheaghaidh sin, chan eil mi a’ smaointinn gun deach an treas fear dhan chuideachd idir agus fhuair e fear na dhà eile co-dhiù agus dh’fhalbh e dhachaigh agus dh’ fhàg e ann an siod an dithis aca-san. A chionn gun robh iad ga dhoicheall a thoiseach cha robh e airson a dhol sa chuideachd agus a trì na ceithir de dheagh bhric aige agus chan ’il ’ios ’m dè fhuair à-san às a dheaghaidh sin.

San àm ud bha iasgach gu leòr air Fadhail Hogha agus bha mòran cloinneadh mun cuairt na h-aibhneadh agus bhiodh iad moch is anmoch a’ grunnachadh feadh na Fadhlach agus a’ guidhe ri Dia ag iarraidh liabag. O! bha iad a’ faighinn liabag cuideachd is bha liabagan gu leòr ann. Ged a bha e a’ dèanamh leisgeul dhaibh-san a dhol chon na h-aibhneadh – bha fhios agad, bha iad a’ faighinn na liabag ma bha liabagan ann. Ach bha am breac a’ tighinn gu math bicheanta an lùib nan liabag agus nuair a thigeadh am fear-ghèidhidh mun cuairt, cha robh a’ chlann ach ag iarraidh liabag.

Poitsear Ainmeil

A-nist tha naidheachd ann an seoach ma dhèidhinn poitsear a bh’ ann an Togha Beag ri linn a’ Ghòrdanaich. Chan eil cho fada bhon uair sin ann agus ’s e a’ sloinneadh a bh’ air an duine Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill, fear a Chlann an t-Saoir. Bha Clann an t-Saoir fuathasach pailt mun cuairt Togha Mòr agus Togha Beag an uair ud agus ’s e poitsearan bhreac a bha as a’ chuid bu mhutha dhiubh. Faoda’ mi a ràdha a h-uile duine aca. Bha maor a-nist as an àite fuathasach fada an aghaidh Dhòmhnaill ’ic Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill a bh’ ann an seo a thaobh gun robh e a’ poitseadh. Ach cinnteach gu leòr nam faigheadh am maor fhèin cothrom air breac ’s e nach fhàgadh san abhainn e gun toirt leis. Ach bha e a’ faicinn còir aige fhèin air a chionn gun robh ùghdarras aige on uachdaran. Ach co-dhiù thàinig an t-uachdaran dhan dùthaich air a’ bhliadhna a bh’ ann an seo, an Gòrdanach. Agus bha e aig an Fhadhail agus chunnaic e am breac a b’ àille a chunnaic e riamh aig an Fhadhail agus bha am maor còmhla ris. A-nist ’s ann ag iasgach le slait a bha an Gòrdanach nuair a chunnaic e am breac agus dh’ fhaighneachd e dhen mhaor:

“An fhiosrach thu,” ors’ e fhèin ris a’ mhaor, “a-nist duine sam bith mun cuairt ann an seo ach,” ors’ e fhèin, “a bheireadh dhomh am breac sin a tha san abhainn beò slàn mar a tha e gun lot fon ghrèin a dhèanamh air agus gum faighinn,” ors’ esan, “a dhealbh a tharraing dìreach a’ breabadaich air tìr ann a shineach air a’ bhlianaig sin?”

“An-dà, tha mi a’ smaointinn,” ors’ am maor, “gum faigh mi duine a nì an gnìamh a th’ ann an sin dhuibh.”

Agus cò air a mhaidich e ach air Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill a bh’ ann an seo agus cha b’ ann airson gnìomh math sam bith do Dhòmhnall a mhaidich e air. Bha e ag ràdha ris fhèin nuair a chitheadh an t-uachdaran a-nist cho math is a bha Dòmhnall mac Nill ’ic Dhòmhnaill air an iasg a ghlacach gun cuireadh e às an fhearann e, an rud a dh’ fhairtlich air fhèin a dhèanamh roimhe sin. Agus dh’fhalbh e far an robh Dòmhnall agus dh’ innis e dhà an ceann-turais air an robh e agus mar a bha an t-uachdaran airson am breac fhaighinn dìreach beò, slàn mar a bha e as an uisge. Dh’fhalbh Dòmhnall bochd còmhla ris. Cha rachadh e a dhiultadh an uachdarain agus nuair a ràinig e, dh’ innis an t-uachdaran dha an rud a bha na bheachd. Bha iad aige am breac fhaotainn. Dh’fhalbh Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill agus thruis e suas a’ ghaoidean cho fad is a ghabhadh dèanamh agus cha robh lèine idir air fon mhuilichinn a bh’ ann a shin agus sgioblaich agus sgeadaich e e fhèin cho math is a chunnaic e iomchaidh agus e a’ coimhead air a’ bhreac agus dh’fhalbh e an uair sin agus rinn e duc a-mach air an abhainn agus ghlac e le dha làimh a breac air a’ ghrunn agus ann am priobadh na sùl bha e air a shradadh gu tìr agus bha e a’ breabadaich dìreach air a’ bhlianaig far na dh’ iarr an t-uachdaran. Agus bha an t-uachdaran as an spot leis a’ chamera a’ tarraing dealbh a’ bhric agus nuair a bha sin seachad aig an uachdaran, ghabh e a-null far a robh Dòmhnall agus mhol e an grìomh a rinn e. Ach cha robh Dòmhnall ga thuigsinn. Cha robh an aon chànail aig gach aon aca ach chaidh innseadh dha. Agus thuirt an t-uachdaran ris is e a’ bualadh a làmh air a ghualainn:

“Cha bhi fear-glèidhidh an seo tuilleadh air an iasg ach thusa, a chionn cha ghabh e glèidheadh ort le neach sam bith eile agus tha mise air sin aithneachadh. Agus glèidhidh tusa air càch e agus bi t’ fheumalachd fhèin agad co-dhiù dheth.”

Agus riamh às a dheaghaidh sin bha Dòmhnall Mac Nill ’ic Dhòmhnaill na fhear-glèidhidh air an Fhadhail fhad ’s a bha e beò agus bha a fheumalachd fhèin aige gu bith dè an tuilleadh pàighidh a bh’ aige air a shon agus thuit a ghuil agus a ghoid air a’ mhaor nuair a chunnaic e cho fàbharach is a thàinig am poitseadh do Dhòmhnall mac Nill ’ic Dhòmhnnaill mu dheireadh. Cha ghabhadh e cur às an fhearann tuilleadh air a shàilleamh agus cead aige a-nist on uachdaran.

A-nist bha naidheachd eile ann a seoach air Niall Mac Dhòmhnaill ’ic Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill air an tug sinn iomradh mu dheireadh. Ach chunna mi fhìn an duine seo Niall. Tha seachd bliadhna deug air fhichead bhon a dh’ eug e agus ’s e poitsear ainmeil a bh’ ann fhèin. Agus bha a bhuil sin ann leis cho trom is a bha e air a bhith a’ poitseadh agus a bhith fluich mun abhainn, thàinig sac air fuathasach òg agus bhac a’ sac riamh air agus bhiodh e a’ faighinn ànradh mòr a’ casadaich. Agus bha e an turas a bh’ ann an seo ag iasgach air Fadhail Hogha agus bha am maor agus am fear-glèidhidh às a dheaghaidh agus ’s e an oidhche a bh’ ann. Agus bha a-nist Niall seo cho eòlach mun abhainn agus bha àite sònraichte ann an taobh na h-aibhneadh far na chramh an t-usige a-staigh don bhruaich agus laigh am bàta sìos dhan abhainn agus cha do bhrist e gu h-àrd idir agus bha an toll fodha. Agus leis cho dlùth a-nist is a thàinig an tòir air Niall seo cha d’ rinn e ach dìreach duc a ghabhail a-mach air an abhainn agus ghabh e suas fon bhàta agus chuir e a bheul agus a shròn am bàrr air an taobh eile dhen bhàta agus bha an còrr dheth fodha a-niste fon bhàta às an abhainn. A-nist nuair a thàinig am maor agus am fear-glèidhidh, chunnaic iad an duine a’ dol a-mach air an abhainn ach cha robh sgeul aca air:

“Tha e bàidhte,” ors’ an darna fear ris an fhear eile.

“Tha a h-uile coltas,” ors’ am fear eile is e ga fhreagairt, “agus bi sinne dìreach nàr. Chan eil e ri fhaicinn an àite sam bith. ’S fheàrr dhuinn falbh dhachaigh.”

Agus dh’fhalbh iad dhachaigh cuideachd agus an làr-na-mhàireach bha iad a’ sìor-choimhead air taigh an duine a bh’ ann an seo feuch am faiceadh iad a-muigh mun taigh e eagal gun robh dìreach a bhà air a làmhan agus gu fortanach chunnaic iad a-muigh mun taigh e agus nuair a chunnaic bha iad cho toilichte is a ghabhadh dèanamh gus nach do rug iad a-raoir air.

Bha iad cinnteach gu leòr gur a h-e a bha iad a’ ruith.

Naidheachd mu M’ athair-cèile

Tha naidheachd eile agam mu dhèidhinn m’ athair-cèile fhìn nuair a bha e na ghille òg – Niall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill, ’s e an sloinneadh a bh’ air, fear eile de Chlann an t-Saoir agus bha e caradach de Dhòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill cuideachd, an aon Chlann an t-Saoir a bh’ ann, agus bha e fhèin na dheagh phoistear. Agus nuair a bha e na chnapach gille, bhiodh e daonnan mu thaobh na h-aibhne ag iasgach agus bha dubhan aige agus boiteag, ’s e am biadhadh a bh’ aige. Agus bha e a’ faighinn iasg gu leòr. Agus bha taigh a’ gheamair fuathasach goirid dha agus bha an geamair a’ dol an rathad daonnan. Bha agus a h-uile turas a ruigeadh e an geamair, bha beairt chaol laghach aige-san agus dubhan phrìne air a’ cheann, agus chan ’il ’ios ’m an robh am biadhadh air agus e ag iasgach agus nuair a bha an geamair a’ faicinn an seòrsa inneal a bh’ aige cha robh e a’ cur diù sam bith ann. Bha e a’ tilleadh dhachaigh is a’ ligeil leis a’ ghille a bhith ri dibhearsain ann an siod. Ach bha a’ bhean aig a’ gheamair fuathasach fada an aghaidh an duine nach robh e a’ fògairt a’ ghille a bh’ ann an seo o thaobh na h-aibhneadh gun a bhith ag iasgach. 

“O! an ceartuair,” ors’ an geamair, “chan eil aige ach dubhan phrìne air ceann snàithle air choireigin a th’ aige ann a shin. Chan eil sìon a choire ann.”

Agus mar sin bha an t-iasgair a’ toirt a char às a’ gheamair agus a’ faighinn iasg gu leòr agus a h-uile turas a ruigeadh an geamair cha robh aige ach an dubhan phrìne agus a’ bheairt chaol, bhochd a bh’ ann an sin agus nuair a dh’fhalbhadh an geamair bha a’ bheairt cheart agus an deagh dhubhan agus aon biadhadh a-mach agus an t-iasgach a’ dol air aghaidh.

Fishing and Poaching

Way back in 1907 I and another young lad used to Oh! go poaching quite often and usually we would go to the River Ghèadaraidh and there was no way we could go during the day but at night, and sure enough we would make excuses sometimes to go during the day. To explain: we would go out to gather heather, to harvest a load of heather to make heather ropes for red rope which was not around at that time and heather ropes which be used for houses and on the barley[?] and we used to fish in the river every opportunity that came our way and when we’d reach our destination we would harvest the heather and we would search around to try and see what could be done and going around to the river for no heather could be got at any time apart from on the riverside. And the fishing equipment we had was a stick and a hook tightened around its end with a string and we would try with the stick and when a trout would happen on us under the stick the hook was turned and twisted. And that man would make it with a push[?] of his hand. It did not matter whether it was night or day, if I crawled on my hands and knees to the river bank I would not get one of them under the banks or to the other side of the pool to the other side with a pàr[?]. And many a time I would throw one in to the lock[?] and I would not get a sight it. I wouldn’t know where I’d go to fetch it but I would wait to try and hear it leaping or jumping throughout the hillocks in order to go in search of it with a stick and a hook and I would cast it in. And when we’d have a load of heather that had been harvested and we put the trout in the heather with rope there along with the heather and we would then harness the load on our backs and go home with it. And perhaps on the way home too–there was not a place we would see a man that had gone out that we didn’t know about, maybe we’d get an opportunity then because we looked to and fro all day long to try and see the gamekeeper and we’d know if he was coming for us in any event we’d safe or otherwise about the river from any enemy that would come our way. And many times then we’d leave during the night. I remember one night I and another lad set off and we went about one or two o’clock in the morning and I think that the river was drying up and when we reached the river it was quite deep and couldn’t be fished – that’s what we would call this type of fishing, it couldn’t be fished at all. But we kept on to the upper end of the river and we got two trout up there. It was shallower there. And it was now the dawning of the day and we were out on the hill and far away from the houses and the morning was so wet and we weren’t going to harvest heather because it was so heavy and and so wet and if we had gone back home then the keeper would have met with us as he was going out. But here’s the thing we did, we left and we climbed Ben More and we kept going out and we reached a shepherd’s house there at Teiriosdal on the other side, on the east side by the shore and we were there all day long, and in the late evening we set out faces for home and when the township appeared from the inner side of the moutain we saw the light of the houses and there was a beautiful moon also and we went towards the river and there was no fish at all. But in any event we kept on going down before us all the way and when we reached the township we didn’t go home at all but we went to visit a house nearby the river and and when it was up to around eleven o’clock at night, between that time and midnight, and seeing that it was still light we wished to try the fishing as before. There would be wayfayers going back and forth and now the people would be going to rest and we went to the river then and we had a fishing net.

It was a long, thing stick about three to four feet long. It had a wire at the end which had been added. It was round down as if it were balast. The net was tied to the wire at that bit. The net was around half a fathom down as it came out to the thin sock at the furthest end of it. It was put in a hose-net in the river. There was a ball on each end. The long stick was put across it and the mouth was face down in the water. A stone was on each end of the stick and the mouth downwads. The fish came and it was taking in under the stick and down the sock.

The tàbh was now placed in the river and every trout in trout if they came would be taken down by the tàbh. Now not a thing came for the first part of the night. But in any case we went, myself and the lad who came along with me and we went to a house that was close by to the river, the house of a lady-friend of ours and we were there a while agus looking down now and again towards the river and there was a good lot of fish in the tàbh and, as well as those caught in the tàbh, there were many thrashing around in front that had not been taken down at all yet and the thing I did was just to being throwing them in using a hook which I had tied to the top of a stick and between that which I put in and those that came out of the tàbh, after one or two times, before the dawning of day we had forty eight trout. And we got two sacks, oatmeal sacks, and a sack with three compartmens and a good lot of them was placed in each one and because daylight had come there was no way we could take them home and so we put them in the house of the lady-friend of mine and they were there until the next night. My companion and I went home and we took separate roads from one another. We did not take the same route home in case any suspicion arose about us. And the next night the fish were taken home and we got even more the night after that. But in any case we were kept safe from the water bailiffs. But I was one particular night in the very same place and I was attending to the tàbh until it was around nine and ten o’clock and my brother came in after that: if the water bailiff came around in any event for no one would come near of their kind if there were two. And I was getting cold and I said to myself that I would get out of here just now, that none of the water-bailiffs would come around tonight and I crossed over the river and I went down a step or two by the river bank and it was quite a dark night and two men appeared by me. And I wasn’t frighted or startled and neither did I look at them as I moved off. I then just made for the hill that was above and climbed it at my leisure and they went down by the riverbank behind me. But they never thought for a moment that I was a poacher at all for I was relaxed and showed not one bit of fear and when I was good bit about them, I was again a giddy, energetic lad, I went as quickly as a I could then and I paid special attention that they would neither see or notice me and I came to the river a quarter of a mile away from the place where we had been and I lay down prone beside the riverbank. Now there was a little isle in the middle of the river and I said to myself:

“Now the water baliffs must go by me here and If I move out from here or if I return to the very place from where I moved from previously.”

And I was there for a while waiting and I heard the noise of someone coming. And the two men appeared and they went by me and once they had gone by I made noise of relief and said to myself:

“I’m thankfully still around here tonight.”

And I returned to the tàbh and it was safely in the river. But now the greatest anxiety for me was if the two men returned to the very place in which I had be and they would then find the tàbh and would wait by the tàbh to see who would return to it before daybreak. And the very thing I decided while I waited for them to go by me and before the came by me again where I was lying prone on the island that I wouldn’t go anywhere the tàbh all night long for I was sure that they would be waiting to catch me and there you have one of the trips that was most ardous for me when poaching. But I was quite expert at this type of work and when I was around twenty-one years of age I was on one particular night going to go to the river and my only companion I had was my youngest brother who was still at home. He was quite young as well. He would only have been about fifteen years of age and I took a net with me and it was a full moon and we went out a piece beside the river and when we reached the fishing place, I began to try it and I got a lump of a trout and my brother had to take it away and I was trying to get more. But he said to me here: 

“What,” he asked, “are those grey things on the other side of the river over there?” 

I took a look and just there were two keepers lying prone on a hill. So we only then went out to go by them and I started to lecture my brother: 

“Don’t you tell at all who was along with you and they’ll not catch me in any case.”

But my brother didn’t want to go and I said to him:

“It’s bright enough tonight. You go home and whatever you’ve seen don’t let on who was along with you.”

And we noticed them coming and they were still coming and getting nearer to us but I was lecturing my brother as well as could be done and I said to him at last: “Go, Go,” I said, “I have to go.”

“It is I who they want.”

And I went and the youngest one of the keepers came after me. And I set off well enough and I was sure enough that they wouldn’t catch me and I was nearing a special part of the river which I knew quite well, I turned out of it well and when I was thinking that there was a good leap between myself and the river I came towards the river with a running leap and a made a jump over it. And then I looked behind me and I was over the river but as well as this the keeper’s fingers caught hold of my coat-tail but he didn’t keep hold of it and I turned on the slope over by and I looked and saw the keeper on the other side, he crouched down and looked and shouted, “Who’s there?” but I didn’t answer at all. I only pulled away I fast as I could. And I came home too and didn’t take long to make the distance and I said nothing about it to those at home, either to my father or my mother but I went to my room and I threw my clothes off that were wet and I got a pair of low, dry, handsome shoes and I put them on and I left as quickly as I could and went on a visit to another house and my brother had not arrived but just as I went out the back door to the house. I didn’t stay to speak with him or anything like that but I left and the very house that I went to visit one of the gamekeepers was in and I and he and the housefolk spent the night happily and there was not a half an hour since the other gamekeeper had been chasing me and I with this man on a easy, quiet visit and the goodman of the house was leaving for Glasgow the next day and he made the gamekeeper get a haircut; and when the time came to go home, I and the gamekeeper left and I went along with the gamekeeper a piece down the road on which I was going as his home was short distance from the house anyway. We were talking and conversing and when were were close to the gamekeeper’s house I returned and I went home to my own home. And the next day now, I saw the gamekeeper who had chased me the night before but who had not caught me. 

“Well, then, indeed,” said the gamekeeper who visited me, “and that man along with me who visited such and such a house last night.”

“At what time were you chasing him?”

“It was around seven o’clock.”

“That’s the exactly time he was in my company on a visit,” and the two of them looked knowingly at one another. But in any event the gamekeeper, who had not managed to catch me, said that he was happy for the other man to say that I was in his company on a visit even though he was very sure that it was in fact me. But in any case the thing he did was on the account day over by Martinmas he took me up in front of the bailiff and the bailiff spoke to my father on my behalf and my father said to the bailiff that he didn’t know anything about it and the bailiff requested that I should be sent down to where he was when I arrived home as my father came home and he told me word for word how it was and I left to go down to where the bailiff was. He was just about ready to leave for home as his account was finished and the gamekeeper said to me the very minute I reached him.

“Oh!” said the gamekeeper, “this is the man. This is the man.” 

The baliff arrived and he made me welcome and asked me if I had been on the river fishing on such and such a night: 

“Indeed, not,” I said. 

He turned to the gamekeeper. 

“Didn’t you catch this man on the river at such and such a time of night.”

“Well,” said the gamekeeper, “I didn’t catch him at all but I know it was him.”

“Oh!” said the bailiff, “that will do you no good if that’s all you have.”

“Oh! no,” said the gamekeeper, “I’m not sure at all but I am pretty confident it was him, him and his brother.

“Oh!” said the bailiff, “if you don’t have that, if you didn’t catch him then the man is safe enough. You may, Macdonald, take your leave and go home.”

But the gamekeeper was emabarresed and other gamekeepers were embarrased too by what happened to him. But I was a little while after that over in Benbecula and I knew the gamekeeper there before he ever came to Benbecula for it was Andrew MacKinnon. And because he and I were from South Uist, he met me a short way from the hotel. We went in and had a dram.

“Oh!” said this gamekeeper to me, Andrew, “weren’t you quick on that night.”

“Which night?” I said.

“The night,” he said, “that Murdo was chasing you.”

“If I’d been there,” I said, “Andrew, no gamekeeper of Lady Cathcart’s would have caught me. I’m very, very proud of that man who didn’t manage to catch me.”

“Oh!” said Andrew, “I recognised here but when I heard about it that it was you.”

“Oh! it’s no me,” I said, “I was going to say that I’m proud of myself and to say that it was me. But if I’d been there, you wouldn’t have or any other man in Lady Cathcart’s service have caught me on that night.”

And he failed now, Andrew to take that off me and I have never told this to any man and all those gamekeepers and the bailiff has been dead for many years past and I don’t care now that I’m relating how it so happened…

We would also be fishing with a rod and a line and we would not have flies at any time but a worm and a cork on the line and when a trout would bite on the hook and it would take a bite that would take down the cork and you only needed then to pull the rod and the trout was taken to land but there would only be a cuddie. They weren’t really worth it and the water bailiffs wouldn’t watch the river at the time that was happening. There wouldn’t just be wee cuddies but some of them would be very big and fine even for that.

I was one night, myself and two other lads from the same township as me, in Sinishival on the river Geadaraidh fishing for trout. We had no equipment apart from a hook tied tightly to a taught string an the stick and the stick was a long narrow and black, a strong stob as well. And I was only twenty-one years of age and the others were around the same age as myself. And I was getting plenty of fish and I asked here of the third one of the lads who was called Lachlann, he was a Johnston:

“Do you have the sack tonight, Lachlann?”

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Oh, God,” I said, “there’s a ton of fish here that could go inside it.”

“Oh! even if there is,” he said.

Then the fish was put on a withy and when we were getting out of the place there now and the fish were getting scare and we were going to try another place.

“Then,” said the lad carrying the fish on the withy, “the withy is getting very heavy to carry this distance. If only we had the sack!”

And the lad called Lachlann left then and he opened his waistcoat and the sack had been put just around his body over under the waistcoat.

“Why,” I asked, “didn’t you give us the sack some time ago?”

“Huh, huh,” he said, “if I had done, you would not have got such an amount of fish that would have gone inside it. I took it out many nights before this,” he said, “and we got nothing that would go inside it and I didn’t want to take it out tonight,” he said, “until we would have enough fish that would go inside it and now we’ll put them in.”

And that was the very night, I think, or another night, that were were coming from the river and we had loads of fish. I spent all night feeling and hearing my clothing rustling as we were so busy working and nothing could be seen rustling. But in any case we were coming home and we were carrying loads and we rested for a breather on an old dyke that we happened upon on the way. Before we reached the wall I was feeling something or another of a cloth rag around my legs but I had no way to bend down to try and see but in any case we rested for a breather at this dyke, and I put down my hand and I tried around my shoe mouth and what was it but my shirt that had come out of the tops of the socks of the trousers and had struck it, around the back belt all together under the oxters and it stayed there just as it was tied that was on its side and it was down to the trousers bottoms and it was going around my feet. What I did was to grap hold of it and to put two twists around the tops of the sock of the trousers and put it in knot and taken home just like that. And when we came home then, I went home to our own house. They went back to their own homes. I took off my clothes and as I was going to be then I threw off that clothes that were tied to my short shirt on the side and threw them away. I went to sleep with it still folded under my oxters and I replaced the shirt on the following day.

There you have what happened many times to the lads who used to poach trourt all night long.

                                                            Three Poaching

Now I knew three other men from Howbeg and all of them were older than me and all three of them are now dead. Yes, since many years ago. And I saw every one of them when they were in their prime and they were execellent poachers too and thankfully they enjoyed this type of work. And now two of them had a big tàbh and it was too big to be carried between their homes and the mountain because it would’ve been very easy to see it coming and going and it was always kept out in the mountain and they would leave with a stick of a device with which they would catch fish, they would get the tàbh and would place it in the river. And on this day two of them went out and they got the tàbh. And they went to a river calle Abhainn Airigh na Liùg where they placed the tàbh. And it so happened now that one of the Howbeg folk, the third man, got there before them. And the two other men who had the tàbh was a bit grumpy towards him for if he was long with them then they wouldn’t catch as much fish and so they started to argue. But he [the third man] stood at the river bank and looked at them and they placed the tàbh while one of the men stood in the river at the back of the tàbh. And the other man went through the river tàbhach and was driving the fish down so that they would be caught by the tàbh. Now beside the tàbh was the man who was keeping hold of the tàbh in the river and the estranged man who was in the current from them looking at them. And they saw one coming, the trout coming down the river as it had been driven that way – it was spouting here and there among the stones and when it reached the pool behind the tàbh, instead of going into the tàbh as had seen before, he took it around and lay in the pool and the man on the river bank went with his stick in his fist with a hook tied tightly to its end and he put the stick in and he pulled in the trout.

“Aye,” said the man keeping the tàbh in the river, “you’ve caught one.”

“Yes,” said the other man, “that’s one.”

But it was not long before another trout came and it reached the tàbh, and when he saw the tàbh before him, he went back around and he lay in the pool. And the man standing on the riverbank went and put the stick out and pulled in other one.

“Well, well,” said the man standing at the back of the tàbh, “you’ve caught another one.”

“Indeed,” said the man.

“You’d be better off joining our company now and all three of us will have a share of the fish no matter how many we get.”

“Hoh, I’m doing well enough just as I am without joining your company at all.”

“Indeed, you son of the devil, you’re doing well enough just as you are, but do you think that I’m going to guard this tàbh for you so that you’ll catch more fish?”

“Oh! then, let it go.”

“Let it go!” said the man in the river looking sternly at him. “I’ll not let it go. If I let it go, there be nothing caught at all.”

“Oh,” said the man on land, “I’m doing plenty of fishing here.”

He would see some of them would see them but indeed, he would not see the trout. The trout was always kept hidden and the water bailiff always utterly failed to drive the children away from the ford while the children were there but now there are not many children that go to the ford and although there might be one or two there is now only a flounder which they wade into in order to catch them.

And whatever happened to them after that, I don’t think that the third man went into their company at all and he caught one or two other fish in any event and he went home and he left the two others to it. For they were not stingy about things to begin with and he didn’t want to joing their company as he had three or four good trout and I don’t know what they got after that.

In those days there was plenty of fishing at Howbeg ford and many children were around the river and from early to late they would wade around the ford and pray to God that they wanted a liabag. Oh! and they used to catch liabag as well and there were plenty liabags. Although it was only an excuse for them to go to the river, you know, they caught a liabag if there were liabags. But the trout came quite often with the liabag and when the water baliff came around, the children were only fishing for liabag.

A Famous Poacher

Now here’s a story about a poacher that was in Howbeag in the time of the Gordon. It’s not that long ago and this man’s patronymic was Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill (Donald son of Neil son of Donald), he was was of the Macintyres. The Macintyres were very prolifc around Howmore and Howbeg in those days and the lion’s share of the them used to be trout poachers. I may say that all of them were. There was an officer from this place and he was dead set against this Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill because he was poaching. But sure enough if the officer himself got the chance to get a trout he would not leave it in the river but take it away with him. But he saw that it was his own right for he had been his authority from the landlord. But in any event the landlord came to the district this particular year, the Gordon. And he was at the Ford and he saw the most beautiful trout that he had even seen at the Ford and the water bailiff was along with him. Now the Gordon was fishing with a rod when he saw the trout and he asked the water bailiff:

“Do you know now,” he asked the water bailiff, “if any man around here that could take out that trout alive and healthy that’s in the river without doing it any injury so that I could get a photograph of it just flapping on land there on that sward?”

“Well, I think,” said the water bailiff, “that I could get a man who could do that for you.”

And who did he point out but this Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill and it wasn’t for any good deed of Donald’s that he accused him. He was saying to himself when he’d see the landlord now that Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill was so good at catching fish that he would be evicted from the land, the thing that he had failed to do himself previously. And he went over to where Donald was and told him the reason that he was there and how the landlord wanted the trout caught alive and healthy as it was from the water. Poor Donald went along with him. He couldn’t refuse the landlord and when he arrived the landlord told him the thing that he wanted to do. They had him catch the trout. Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill went and gathered up the his sleeves as far as they could go and he was not wearing a shirt under his shirtsleeves and so he tidied and sorted himself as well as he saw fit and he was looking for trout and he then went and ducked into the river and caught a trout with his two hands  out from the riverbed and in the blink of an eye he had thrown it to land and it was kicking just on the sward where the landlord had requested. The landlord was there in a flash with the camera taking pictures of the trout and and when he was finished, he went over to where Donald was and he commened him for his effort. But Donald didn’t understand him. There was only one thing at each one of them but only that which was told to him. And the landlord said to him as he patted his hand on his shoulder:

“There’ll not ever be a water-bailiff here to watch over the fish but yourself, for they can’t be protected from you by anyone else and I recognise that. And you’ll protect them from others and it’ll do you good in any case.”

And after that Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill was the water-bailiff at the Ford as long as he lived and his own needs were satisifed whatever pay he had for it and the [guil?] fell and from what he stole from the bailliff when he saw it so favourable that the paoching did for Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill at last. He could never be evicted from the land for that as he had now permission from the landlord. 

Now another story about Niall Mac Dhòmhnaill ’ic Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill whom we mentioned earlier. I saw myself this man Neil. It’s twenty-seven years since he died and he was a famous poacher. And his mark was made for he had a great predilection for poaching and to be going to the river, he had asthma since he was very young and he always had asthma and he was in great pain with coughing. And on this particular occasion there was fishing at Howbeg Ford and the bailiff and the water bailiff were after him and it was at night. And now this Neil knew the river so well and there was a particular place on the riverbank where the river eats into the bank and the boat lay down by the river and it couldn’t be seen at all as there was a hole below. And because it was so close now and the pursuers came upon this Neil and he just ducked into the river and he went below the boat and he placed his mouth and nose on top of the other side of the boat and the rest of him was below the boat in the river. Now when the bailiff came and the water-bailiff, they saw the man going out into the river and they didn’t catch any sight of him:

“He’s drowned,” said the second man to the other man.

“In all likelihood,” said the other man answering him, “and we’ll be just disgraced. He can’t be seen in any place. We’d better leave for home.”

And they made for home as well and the next day they were for ever looking at the man’s house to try and see if he was out around the house just in case he was just there on his hands and fortunately they saw him out around the house and when they saw they were as pleased as could be that they hadn’t caught him the night before.

They were certain enough that it was him they had been were chasing.

Anecdote about my father-in-law

There’s another anecdote about my own father-in-law when he was young lad – Niall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill was his patronymic, another one of the MacIntyres and he was related to Dòmhnall mac Nìll ’ic Dhòmhnaill as well, these same MacIntyres, and he was himself a good poacher. And when he was a small lad, he would always be at the river fishing and he had a hook and a worm, that’s the bait he used. And he was catching plenty fish. The gamekeeper’s house was terribly close by and the gamekeeper was always going by that way. And everytime he would the gamekeeper would arrive, he had nice narrow rod (beairt) with a hook made of pin at its end, and I don’t know whether the bait was on it and he was fishing and when the gamekeeper saw the type of device he used he didn’t give any thought to it. He was on his way home and he let the lad get on with his hobby. But the gamekeeper’s wife was dead against her husband for not warning this lad who was by the riverbank not to go fishing.

“Oh! my poor creature,” said the gamekeeper, “he has only a hook made of pin at the end of some string or another. There’s no harm in it.”

And therefore the angler had tricked the gamekeeper and was catching plenty of fish and every time the gamekeeper came he would only find the needle hook and the narrow, poorly-made rod there and after the gamekeeper would to his leave the good rod and hook would out and the same bait was put out and the fish were coming on.

Reference:

NFC 1180, pp. 111–256

Image:

Duncan MacDonald, 1951, Peninerine, South Uist by Dr Werner Kissling. By courtesy of the School of Scottish Studies, University of Edinburgh