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SOI^S OF THE ISLES.

There is a spell woven hy restless seas,

A secret dfiarim that haunts our Island air,

Holding our hearts and folloioing everywhere

The loandering children of the Orcades;

And still, when sleep the prisoned spirit frees.

What dim void ^vastes, what strange daj^k seas we dare,

Till cohere the dear green Isles shine lata and fair

We moor in dreams beside familiar quays.

Sons of the Isles ! though ye may roam afar,
Still on your lips the salt sea spray is stinging,
Still in your hearts the winds of youth are singing;
Though in heavens groion familiar to your eyes
The Southern Gross is gleaming, for old skies
Your hearts are fain and for the Northern Star.

DtTNCAN J. EOBERTSON.

(" Chambers's Journal." By permission.)

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The

Orkney Book

Readings for Young Orcadians

Compiled and Edited by

John ^unn, M.A., D.Sc.

Author of "Sons of the Vikings," "The Boys of
Hamnavoe," etc.

Thomas Nelson and Sons

London, Edinburgh, Dublin,
and New York

PREFACE.

This is a book about Orkney, for use in Orkney, designed and
for the most part written by natives of Orkney. It owes its
origin to the Edinburgh University Orcadian Association, the
members of which realized the desirability of preparing for
use in the schools of Orkney a book adapted to the special
conditions of the Islands,

Educationists now recognize that Knowledge ought, like Charity,
to " begin at home : " this is true of every branch of knowledge
— history, geography, literature, and the rest. They might even
adopt with an educational reference the saying of the wise man,
"Wisdom is before him that hath understanding; but the eyes of
a fool are in the ends of the earth." An attempt has accordingly
been made in this book to present to the young folks of Orkney
a general view of their homeland, some description of its past
and its present, and some knowledge of its naturalistic and its
humanistic aspects, with the object of awakening their interest
in their own Islands, in order that from this centre their know-
ledge may advance the more surely to the sweep of a widei
horizon. For, like Charity again, while Knowledge must begin at
home, it must not remain at home.

While the scope of the book is wide, the treatment of each
class of subjects is necessarily suggestive rather than exhaustive.
All that is possible within the limits of a single small volume is
to present illustrative specimens rather than a complete collec-
tion of studies. Hence there is abundant opportunity for the
teacher to supplement the book by specializing in one direction
or in another according to individual preference. The aim has
been rather to supply the irreducible minimum, suitable to all,
in the hope that the book may find its way into every school in
the county, and be read by every Orkney boy and girl before
their schooldays are over.

The Committee of the Edinburgh University Orcadian Associa-
tion who have superintended the issue of the book acknowledge
gratefully the courtesy with which copyright material has been
placed at their disposal. They wish to record their obligations to
the Controller of His Majesty's Stationery Office, to Messrs. J. M.
Dent and Co., Messrs. Longmans, Green, and Co., Messrs. Mac-
millan and Co., Messrs. W. and E. Chambers, and the Walter
Scott Publishing Company, for the use of the extracts to which
their names are respectively appended, and to Messrs. Thomas
Nelson and Sons for much copyright material, including numerous
illustrations. They also desire to express their thanks to the
Honourable Mrs. John Dundas of Papdale, and to Messrs.

Preface.

Duncan J. Eobertson, J. Storer Clouston, and Edmund Selous
for literary contributions which are in themselves sufficient to
give a high value to the collection, as well as to place on record
their indebtedness to the late Mr. James Tomison for the article
on " The Birds of Sule Skerry."

The matter contained in the unsigned articles has been con-
tributed by many Orcadians, specialists in their several depart-
ments, whose names are sufficient guarantee for accuracy —
Messrs. James W. Cursiter, F.S.A.Scot., for Archaeology, includ-
ing illustrations ; James Drever, M.A., for Norse history and
language ; John Tait, M.D., D.Sc, for Zoology ; John S. Flett,
M.A., D.Sc, for Geology ; Magnus Spence, F.E.I.S., for Meteor-
ology and Botany ; John Garrioch, M. A., for Seaweeds ; John W.
Bews, M.A., B.Sc, and George W. Scarth, M.A., for botanical
and descriptive material ; Robert C. Wallace, M.A., B.Sc, for
descriptive material ; and John Gumi (Kirkwall) for the list of
Orkney birds in the Appendix.

As regards the artistic features of the book, special acknow-
ledgment is due to Messrs. Thomas Kent, for his generosity
in placing at the disposal of the Editor the whole of his unique
collection of Orkney views, all the photographs reproduced being
from his studio, with three or four exceptions ; T. Marjoribanks
Hay, B.S.W., for his drawing of St. Magnus Church, Egilsay ;
Stanley Cursiter, for the decorative initial letters, the title-page,
and the cover design ; and Miss Rose Leith, for the border designs
of the grouped photographs ; and to J. G. Bartholomew, LL.D.,
for the two-page map of the county.

Finally, the thanks of the Committee are due to the generous
and patriotic friends, among whom special mention ought to be
made of the Glasgow Orkney and Shetland Literary and Scientific
Association, whose donations of money have enabled them to pro-
duce this book, for a volume whose circulation must necessarily be
limited to a small area could be issued at so low a price only on
condition of the initial cost of manufacture being met by those
interested in its production.

The Editor, who must accept responsibility for the general
scope and plan of the book, as well as for the actual form and part of
the contents of the unsigned articles, desires personally to acknow-
ledge the valuable assistance he has received from the members
of the Committee, especially Dr. John Tait and Mr. James Drever,
and from the other friends who have helped by their sympathetic
criticism and advice, to all of whom, as well as to himself, the
work has been in every sense a labour of love ; and he ventures
to express the hope that the results of that work, as here visible,
may find favour in the sight of all young Orcadians, and of many
who are no longer young. J. GUNN.

Edinbuegh, 1909.

CONTENTS.

Part I.— The Story of the Past.

Prehistoric Orkney,

The Beginnings of our History,

The Norsemen and their Sagas,

The Beginning of the Earldom,

The Dark Centvu-y,

Earl Thorfinn and Earl Eognvald,

The Slaying of Earl Magnus, ...

The Founding of St. Magnus Cathedral,

The Jorsalafarers,

Sweyn Asleifson, the Last of the Vikings

The Decay of the Earldom, and the End of the Western Kingdom

The Annexation to Scotland, ...

Udal and Feudal,

The Stewart Earls,

The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries

Part 11.— The Isles and the Folk.

A Survey of the Islands :

On Wideford Hill,

Among the North Isles,

Among the South Isles,
Round the Mainland :

Eirst Day,

Second Day,

Third Day,

Fourth Day,
Sketches by Hugh Miller:

The Dwarfie Stone,

The Standing Stones,
The Cathedral of St. Magnus,
A Road in Orcady,
A Loch in Orcady,
Among the Kelpers, ...
A Whale-hunt in Orkney,
Articles made of Straw,
The Weather of Orkney,
The Place-Names of Orkney,

Contents.

Part III.— Nature Lore.

The Story of the Rocks : Page

"Sermons in Stones," ... ... ... ... ... 271

"Books in the Running Brooks," ... ... ... ... 276

Cliffs and Beaches, ... ... ... ... ... 284

The Age of Ice, ... ... ... ... ... ... 289

Orkney Fossils, ... ... ... ... ... ... 292

A Peat-Moss, 296

Some Common Weeds, ... ... ... ... ... 305

Home Life on the Rocks :

Guillemots, ... ... ... ... ... ... 312

Seals, 317

Shags, 320

The Birds of Sule Skerry, ... ... ... ... ... 328

The Residenters, ... ... ... ... ... ... 330

The Regular Visitors, ... ... ... ... ... 334

Occasional Visitors, ... ... ... ... ... 346

Common Seaweeds, ... ... ... ... ... ... 352

Crabs, 361

Hoppers and Sholties, ... ... ... ... ... ... 372

Sea-Anemones, ... ... ... ... ... ... 378

Part IV.— Legend and Lay.

The Old Gods, ... 383

A Vanishing Island, ... ... ... ... ... ... 391

Helen Waters : a Legend of Sule Skerry, ... ... ... 396

A Legend of Boray Island, ... ... ... ... ... 403

Songs of the Gods:

The Challenge of Thor, 408

Tegner's Drapa, ... ... ... ... ... ... 409

The Song of Harold Harfager, ... ... ... ... 412

King Hacon's Last Battle, ... ... ... ... ... 414

The Death of Haco, ... ... ... ... 416

The Old Man of Hoy, 420

Orkney, 422

Scenes from "The Buccaneer":

Night; Morning, ... ... ... ... ... ... 430

To Orkney, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 432

The Temple of Nature, ... ... ... ... ... 433

Appendices.

Appendix I. — Chronology of Orcadian History to the End of the

Earldom, with Related Contemporary Events, ... ... 435

Appendix II.— Norse Words in Orkney Place-Names, ... ... 439

Appendix III.— List of Birds found in Orkney, ... ... 441

Appendix IV.— Books for Further Study, ... ... ... 443

THE ORKNEY BOOK.

Part L— The Story of the Past.

PREHISTORIC ORKNEY.

T what period of the world's history
were our islands first inhabited,
and who were their first in-
habitants ? These are questions
which we cannot now answer.
History is always made before it
is written, and long ages must
have passed in the history of these
islands before any written records
began to be kept.

Yet there are some records of that dim, forgotten
past, which patient research has gathered together,
and which can be made to tell us a few fragments
of our Island story. If we look into one of the
museums where relics of the past are preserved, we
may find such things as flint arrow-heads and knives,
stone axes and hammers, bronze spear-heads, and other
tools and weapons of the early inhabitants of our

10 Prehistoric Orkney.

islands. These silent witnesses tell us a little about
what manner of men they were, and how they lived
their long-forgotten lives.

The use of stone implements marks a very primitive
stage of life, yet one which may not be entirely savage.
There are tribes now living which are still in their
Stone Age. A recent traveller tells of having seen an
inhabitant of the South American Andes skin a hare
very neatly with a small flint knife. This knife is
now in Kirkwall, and is precisely similar to many
which have been dug up in Orkney.

)#f f f

^^^k.

Flint Arroiv-heads and Knives.

Flint is not a common stone in the Orkney Islands.
It is found in occasional lumps and pebbles among
the clay which has been carried from other places
by the glaciers and icebergs of the Ice Age. Flint
is common in the southern parts of Great Britain,
however, and the arrows and knives found in our
islands may have been brought from the south, or
the art of making them may have been learned
from tribes among whom flint was a more common
material. This kind of stone, the fine steel of the

Prehistoric Orkney.

11

Stone Age, was used for small implements over a
wide area of the world.

Orkney must have had a large population in
those early days. The number of ancient graves
which have been found seems to indicate this, espe-
cially if we suppose that most of those graves with
their heaped-up mounds are the resting-places of
chiefs and great men rather than of the common
people. The graves which remain are of varied

stone Hammers and Axes.

types, from the simple cist of upright stones roofed
with horizontal slabs and covered with earth, to the
large mound with its carefully built chambers.

The variety of the objects found in those graves, from
the rudest flint and bone implements to those which
are carefully finished, and finally to objects made of
metal, shows that the burials belong to difi'erent periods.
They tell us of long ages of increasing though now
forgotten civilization. Some of the mounds, indeed,

12 Prehistoric Orkney.

show by their contents that they cover the remains,
not of the original and unknown inhabitants, but
of the Norse conquerors, and thus really belong to
the period whose history has come down to us
in writing. But in the very mound where the
Norse warrior was laid to rest, there are sometimes
also found the relics of burials of a much ruder
age. Such mingling of the materials of our un-
written history makes the story which they tell a
very difficult one to read.

There are few remains in our islands more striking
than the chambered mounds, or Picts' houses, as they
are called. The most complete and probably the
most recent of them is that known as Maeshowe.
They consist of a mound of earth heaped over a
rude building, sometimes of one apartment, but fre-
quently of several, the entrance being a long, low,
narrow passage, through which it is necessary to
stoop or crawl in order to gain an entrance.

Possibly those Picts' houses were built at first as
houses to dwell in, though later used as tombs. It is
not uncommon to-day to find buildings used for burial
which were designed for other purposes. If ever our
race and all its records were to vanish as completely
as the primitive inhabitants of the Orkney Islands
have done, we can imagine some future explorer of
the ruins of St. Magnus Cathedral writing a learned
treatise to prove that the largest building in our
islands was erected as a burial-place for our dead.

Those mound dwellings, or Picts' houses, may seem
to us a very strange form of house to live in. Where
can we find to-day houses of such a type, and with
so very inconvenient a form of entrance ? The

Prehistoric Orkney.

13

Eskimos, as travellers tell us, are in the habit of
building just such houses with blocks of snow, and
they find this the best type in the extreme cold
of their Arctic climate. Possibly the Picts' house
type of dwelling was used in Orkney and in other
places for similar reasons.

The brochs, or Pictish towers, as they are also
called, are buildings of a different kind, which are

Polished Stone Celts.

also fairly common in Orkney. They are probably
of later date than the Picts' houses. Considerable
skill, as well as co-operation in labour, must have
been required for their erection.

The most complete broch in existence is that of
Mousa in Shetland. Of those which are found in
Orkney, only the lower portions now remain. Over
seventy such ruins have been examined, the best
specimens being in Evie (Burgar), Birsay (Oxtro),

14

Prehistoric Orkney.

Harray, Firth (Ingashowe and Stirlinghowe), St. Ola
(Birstane and Lingro), St. Andrews (Dingishowe and
Langskaill), Burray (East and West Brough), South
Ronaldsay (Hoxa), Shapinsay (Borrowston), and

Stronsay (Lamb Head).

The typical broch is a
large round tower, fifty or
sixty feet in diameter, and
probably as much in height.
The wall is about fifteen
feet thick, and solid at the
base, except for some vaulted
chambers which are made in
it. Higher, the wall is hol-
low, or rather consists of an
outer and an inner wall,
with a space of four or five feet between them. This
space is divided into a number of stories or galleries by
horizontal courses of long slabs of stone, which form

Plan of Chambered Mound,

Wideford Hill,
b, Entrance, c, Blind Passage.

Chambered Mound, Wideford Hill,
Section on line a, a of plan.

the roof of one story and the floor of that above it,
and at the same time bind the two walls firmly together.
A stairway gives access to the various stories, and light
is admitted by small windows opening into the interior
space of the tower, no windows being made in the outer

Prehistoric Orkney.

15

wall. A single door in the lower wall forms the only
entrance to the inner court of the broch.

These towers were probably constructed for the
purpose of defence, and against a primitive enemy
they would serve as well as did the castles of a
later age before the invention of gunpowder. Indeed,
we read of the broch of Mousa being actually used as
a fort in the time of the Norsemen.

Who the builders of these towers were we cannot
discover. They are undoubtedly very ancient ; yet
their builders and occupiers were by no means savages.
From the remains which have been found in them we

Broch of Mousa, Shetland.
1. Exterior. 2. Section. 3, Section with inner wall removed.

learn that they were used by a people who kept
domestic animals, who cultivated the ground, and who
could spin and weave the wool of their flocks into cloth.
No weapons of the Stone Age are found in the brochs.

It is certain that they were built, and that most
of them may have fallen into ruins, long before the
Norsemen came. Many of the places where they
stand were named by those settlers from the broch
which was found standing there. The words horg,
as in Burgar, and howe (haug), as in Hoxa (Haug's
aith, or isthmus), are found in many place-names.

16 Prehistoric Orkney.

It is certain, too, that the brochs were not then
occupied, or we should have found some account of
their siege and capture in the Sagas which tell of
Norse prowess by land and sea.

Another type of ancient remains which is common
in our islands is the standing stones. These are
found in many places, either singly or in groups or
circles. Regarding these relics of a distant past
much has been written, but little is known.

The Stone Circle of Stenness as now Restored.

An upright stone is the simplest and most effective
form of monument, and is that which we most com-
monly use to this day to mark the resting-places of
our dead. To the ancient Orcadian it was a matter
of more difficulty to quarry and to transport and erect
such monuments, and doubtless they would be set up
only in memory of some great event, such as a notable
victory, or the fall of a great chieftain.

The great stone circles, such as those of Stenness
and of Brogar, are supposed to have served a different

(1,384)

Prehistoric Orkney.

17

purpose. They are believed by many to have been
the temples of some primitive people, who met there
to worship their gods. It has also been supposed
that the people who erected those circles were sun-
worshippers, as the situation of certain prominent
stones seems to have been determined by the position
of the rising sun at midsummer.

But in these matters we cannot be certain of our
conclusions. Most of our great churches and cathe-
drals are placed east and west, with the high altar

fSr^}^'^^^0'

Fallen Cromlech or Table Stone, Sandivick.

towards the east, and even the graves in our church-
yards are usually similarly oriented ; but this does not
prove that we are sun-worshippers, whatever our fore-
fathers may have been before they accepted Christi-
anity. We may indulge in much speculation about them,
and form our own opinions as to what they originally
meant, but those hoary monoliths remain a mystery,
and the purpose of their erection we can only guess.

(1.384)

THE BEGINNINGS OF OUR HISTORY.

N the history of the ancient world some vague
and fragmentary references are made to our
islands, but from these little real knowledge
of them can be gathered. As early as the
time of Alexander the Great we come upon
some notices of certain northern islands,
which must be either Orkney, or the
Hebrides, or Shetland, or the Faroes, but we cannot
determine which. The Phoenicians, who were the
great sea-traders and explorers of the early world,
seem to have had a little knowledge of these northern
archipelagoes.

In the time of the Roman occupation of Britain
we have definite mention of the Orcades, but nothing
which shows any real knowledge of them. They
were visited by the fleet of Agricola after his invasion
of Scotland, as recorded by Tacitus. About three
centuries later, the poet Claudian sings of a victory
by the .Emperor Theodosius, who, we are told, sprinkled
Orcadian soil with Saxon blood. We are not told,
however, who the people called Saxons really were,
or whether they were the inhabitants of the islands
or not. They may have been early Yiking raiders
who had fled hither and been brought to bay among
the group.

The Beginnings of our History. 19

Early Church history has also some references to
Orkney. After St. Columba had left the shores of
Ireland to carry the message of Christianity to the
Picts and Scots in Scotland, another Irish missionary,
Cormac, went on a similar voyage among the Orkney
Isles. Him, therefore, we may regard as the apostle to
the northern heathen. St. Adamnan, the biographer
of St. Columba, tells the story, and the name of
Adamnan himself is still commemorated in the name
of the Isle of Damsay.

After the visit of Cormac, the Culdee missionaries
established themselves in various parts of Orkney, as
the place-names given by the Norsemen show. In
several of these names we find the word papa, a form
of pope, which was the name applied to the monks
or clergy of the Culdee Church. Like Columba
himself, who made the little island of lona his head-
quarters, his followers seem to have preferred the
seclusion of the smaller islands. To this habit are
due such names as Pafa Westray and Papta Stronsay.
Other Church settlements have left their traces in
names such as Paplay and Papdale.

Another place-name which records an old-world
mission station is that of Deerness. At first sight
this name seems rather to indicate that abundance
of deer were found there ; and some writers tell us,
by way of proving this, that deer's horns have been
found in that parish. But as deer's horns have also
been found in many other places in the county, the
proof is not convincing. We must remember that the
Norse invaders were likely to name the place on
account of its appearance from the sea. They may,
of course, have noticed a chance herd of deer near

20 The Begrinnings of our History.

the cliffs ; but one thing is certain to have caught
their eye — the unusual sight of a building of stone on
the Brough of Deerness. Some remains of this build-
ing, and of a later one on the same site, still exist ;
and it was long regarded as in some way a sacred
place, to which pilgrimages were made. This build-
ing was in fact one of those outposts of early
Christianity — a Culdee monastery. When the Norse
invaders came, they doubtless found it occupied by
some of the Culdee clergy — diar, as they would be
called by the strangers — and so the headland was
named the Priests' Cape, or Deerness

It is quite possible that deer existed in Orkney
down to the Norse period, but they were much more
likely to be found in the hilly regions of the west
Mainland, which was the earls' hunting-ground. We
read of an Earl of Orkney going over to Caithness
for the chase of the deer, which seems to suggest that
they were then scarce, if not extinct, in Orkney.

Among the remains of the Culdee settlements
which are still found are monumental stones with
Christian emblems inscribed on them, or with Irish
Ogham writing, and ancient bells, probably used in
the churches. The curious round tower which forms
part of the old church of St. Magnus in Egilsay
is of a type common only in Ireland. The name
of that island is probably derived from an earlier
church which the Norsemen found there, and heard
called by its Celtic name, ecclais. It has been sup-
posed by some that the name Egilsay means Egil's
Island, so called after some man named Egil ; but the
probability is that it meant the Church Island.

All that we can learn, then, from the ancient relics

The Beginnings of our History. 21

of its first inhabitants, and from the brief references
to the islands by old historians, amounts to very
little. We know that Orkney was thickly inhabited
by some ancient people, living at first the primitive
life which is indicated by the use of stone implements.
We may suppose that they had at one time a religion
in some way connected with sun-worship. We know
that they built earth-houses somewhat like the snow-
houses of the Eskimos, many of which still remain,
and that, in some cases at least, these have been
used as places of burial by later inhabitants. We
know that at one period strong circular towers were
built, probably as fortresses, by a people of some
degree of civilization. We know that in the time of
St. Columba Christian missionaries or monks visited
the islands, whose inhabitants were then probably of
the race known as Picts, and whose chiefs are said
to have been subject to the Pictish king of Northern
Scotland. Some at least of those Culdees we may
suppose to have been hermits rather than missionaries,
although they may have combined the two characters.
How many centuries of time are covered by these
facts and suppositions we do not know, but they sum
Tip all that can be said with certainty regarding
Orkney before the coming of the Norsemen.

There is one very curious fact about the beginnings
of the Norse records : they make no mention what-
ever of any inhabitants being found in the islands.
The place-names afford evidence, as we have seen, of
the presence of Culdee monks, but of other population
there is no trace. The new-comers seem to have
settled as in an uninhabited land, each Viking selecting
and occupying his land without let or hindrance.

22

The Beginnings of our History.

If there had been a native population, and if these
had been either expelled or exterminated by the
invaders, we should surely have been told of it by
the Saga writers, who would have delighted in telling
such a tale. It has accordingly been supposed that
at the time of the Norse settlement the islands were
uninhabited save by the hermits of the Culdee Church.
When or how the former Pictish inhabitants dis-
appeared it is impossible to say. Possibly some early
Viking raids, of which no history remains, had re-
sulted in the slaughter of many and the flight of the
rest to the less exposed lands south of the Pi'^.tland
or Pentland Firth. Whatever the reason may be,
the chapter of our Island history which opens with
the Norse settlement is in no way a continuation of
anything which goes before, but begins a new story.

Carved Stone Balls.

THE NORSEMEN AND THEIR SAGAS.

history.

'T is late in the eighth century before the
Northman or Norseman appears on the stage
of history. From the day when Caesar's vic-
torious legions brought the Gauls, the Ger-
mans, and the Britons under the sway of
the imperial city, these nations of Western
Europe are never again entirely lost to
But Scandinavia and the countries round the
Baltic remained unknown to Rome and to the world
for long centuries afterwards. " There nature ends,"
one of the Roman writers has said, when speaking of
these northern lands. This brief yet expressive sentence
well indicates how completely outside the Roman world
lay the countries which were the cradle of our race.

There is another side to all this, which we find
it difficult to picture clearly in our minds. To the
inhabitants of Scandinavia and the lands round the
Baltic, the southern parts of Europe were equally
unknown. We find in a Scandinavian writer of the
ninth century a description of an expedition which
was made by one of the Viking chiefs to this un-
known world. In the course of his travels he came
upon a city which to the Norseman seemed mysteri-
ous and dread — a city of Niflheim, the under-world.

24 The Norsemen and their Sagas.

This city, as we learn from contemporary Western
writers, must have been Paris. Paris, now the
gay capital of Europe, and even then a city of im-
portance and of fame, was so unknown to the Norse-
men of the early ninth century that it was deemed
a part of Niflheim, the under-world !

During the period when the northern nations were
hidden from the eye of history, many changes must
have been going on among them. The building and
management of ships could not have been learned
in a day, and even when we first catch sight of the
Norsemen they were the finest and most daring sea-
men in the world, and their ships probably the most
perfect hitherto seen. Many voyages among their
own islands and in the Baltic must have preceded the
longer voyages to Britain, to Iceland, to Greenlandj
and to America. Numerous wars there must have
been, quite unknown to history, before the northern
warrior became the terrible fighter of the Viking Age.

We can imagine the delighted wonder with which
the northern warriors first gazed upon the rich
and fertile shores of South- Western Europe. We
can imagine how they contrasted the fair fields
and great cities of the south with the bleak and
sterile shores of the north from which they came.
What motives first led to their leaving their native
shores it is difficult to say. Thirst for adventure,
the pinch of poverty at home, the desire of possessing
gold and treasure, all conspired to make them seek
their fortunes in the wide and unknown lands which
lay beyond the sea. When the first adventurers
brought home accounts of the lands which they had
seen — the fruitful fields, the great cities, the rich

The Norsemen and their Sagas. 25

merchandise, and the yellow gold — great numbers of
their fellow-countrymen would be seized with a long-
ing to visit those wonderful shores where wealth was
to be had for the taking. The roving spirit once
roused spread rapidly over the northern lands. The
storm of Viking fury burst on the lands of Western
Europe almost without warning.

In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, under the date
A.D. 787, we read: "In this year King Beorhtric
took Eadburh, King Offa's daughter, to wife. And in
his days first came three ships of Northmen from
Haerethaland, and the reeve rode down to them
and would drive them to the king's vill, for he
knew not what men they were, and they there slew
him. These were the first ships of Danish men that
sought the land of the English." Thus we read of
the first mutterings of the storm which was so soon
to burst on the coasts of Western Europe. During
the succeeding two centuries and a half the English
learned to know well what men these were who
came out of the wild north-east. The monks' litany,
" From the fury of the Northmen deliver us, O
Lord ! " tells us what they thought of them.

We can trace two distinct roads which the Vikino^
raids followed. One, traversed chiefly by the Danes,
led along the shores of Northern Europe to England,
the English Channel, France, Spain, and the Mediter-
ranean ; the other, traversed chiefly by the Norsemen,
led straight across the North Sea to the Orkneys,
thence along the west coast of Scotland, to Ireland and
the west of England. The islands lying off the coasts
of Scotland, England, Ireland, and France were seized
by the invaders, and from these as bases their raids

The Norsemen and their Sagas. 27

extended far and wide. Monasteries felt the utmost
fury of their attacks, for there they knew they would
find abundance of spoil. At first the invaders con-
fined themselves to plundering expeditions. The
Norsemen early turned their attention to settlement
and commerce; the Danes, on the other hand, remained
for a longer period intent on plunder alone.

Civil wars in Western Europe had rendered the
nations there incapable of effective resistance to the
ruthless invaders. The Vikings descended now at one
point, now at another. When they met with a more
stubborn resistance than usual, they merely retired
to their ships with whatever plunder they had
seized, and sailed away to make an attack somewhere
else. They wintered on the islands which they had
seized, and as soon as spring was come they
descended once more on the devoted lands. Ireland
suffered severely at their hands. The Orknej^'s and
the Hebrides became nests of Vikings ; in fact,
colonies of them must have been established there
at a very early date. In these islands they were
safe from all interference — a law to themselves ; for
as yet there was no arm in Europe long enough
and strong enough to reach them. . Nowhere could
a more convenient base have been found for Viking-
raids on the British and Irish shores.

The first half-century of the Viking Age saw the
Danes settled merely in outlying parts of the east
coast of England. The Norsemen, on the other hand,
had already seized on Orkney, Shetland, the Hebrides,
and large tracts of Eastern Ireland. The first fifty
years of the Viking Age may be called the first
period of Norse colonization in the west.

28 The Norsemen and their Sagas.

It would be a great mistake, however, to suppose
that the Norsemen were merely turbulent sea-robbers,
or that the only result of their migrations was to
hinder the progress of civilization in Western Europe.
As settlers in other countries, they brought new
strength and vitality to the land of their adoption ;
but instead of remaining separate colonies, they were
soon absorbed into the native population, and had no
further history of their own.

Yet there were two great settlements abroad which
left a deep mark on European history. The one was
the colonization of the north of France, afterwards
called Normandy. There the Norsemen soon adopted
the language and the religion of the country, but
retained so much of their native characteristics that
the subsequent Norman Conquest of England may be
regarded as really a Norse inroad of a specially suc-
cessful type. The other settlement was that in the
south of Italy and Sicily, later known as the kingdom
of the Two Sicilies, which occupied an important
place in history during the Middle Ages.

Even the British settlements for the most part
had only a brief period of separate history, and soon
became merged into the general stream of national
life. In Orkney and Shetland, however, where there
was probably no native population at the time of the
Norse invasion, the colony developed along its own
special lines, and has left behind it a history which
for centuries remained distinct from that of the rest
of Great Britain.

The history of the Orkney Islands during the period
of the Norse occupation is preserved for us in the
Icelandic Saaas. Iceland was one of the earliest and

The Norsemen and their Sagas. 29

most important Norse colonies, and there the old
Northern language was preserved better than any-
where else. The Sagas are stories which, in the times
of long ago, were told around the fires in Iceland and
other Norse colonies to while away the long winter
evenings. At festivals and merry-makings, during
long voyages, or by the winter fireside, the Norseman
listened eagerly to the recital of deeds done by his
kinsmen in other times and in other lands. Story-
telling was a popular pastime, and the man who
knew many Sagas was ever a welcome guest.

Many of the Sagas have now been translated into
English, and all of these are well worth reading. The
greatest of all the Sagas is generally thought to be
the Saga of Burnt Njal. It is one of the noblest
stories to be found in any language, and it is besides
nobly told. In this Saga we find the best account
of the great battle of Clontarf. Among the other
great Sagas are the Saga of the Settlers on the Ayre,
the Saga of Laxdale, the Saga of Egil the son of
Skallagrim, the Saga of Grettir the Strong, and the
Saga of the Volsungs. The two last are mythical
Sagas ; they do not tell of real historical personages,
but are paraphrases of old songs and legends which
have come down from a more distant past. The
Anglo-Saxon Saga of Beowulf tells some of the same
stories, and is not a real Saga in the sense of a true
story told by the fireside.

The stories of the earls and chiefs of Orkney form
part of the great store of Saga literature, and these
have come down to us in the form of the " Orkneyinga
Saga." It must be remembered, however, that this is
merely the summary of a great number of stories

30 The Norsemen and their Sagas.

which had been told long before hy men who had no
doubt taken part in the events related. It was a
Saga-man's pride to tell the truth — at least as it was
told to him — and so we may in the main rely on the
Orkney Saga as a true account o£ events which hap-
pened, although sometimes it may be exceedingly
difficult to assign the correct dates. The Orknej^
Saga is not usually reckoned among the great Sagas.
It partakes more of the nature of a general history
than of a single and complete story. This Saga is
the chief source of our knowledge of the history of
our islands during Norse times.

The Orkney Saga consists of several parts, each of
which might be called a separate Saga — the Earls'
Sao^a, Maoiius's Sao^a, and Roo^nvald's Sao'a. The first
relates the history of Orkney from its conquest by
King Harald Fairhair of Norway down to the death
of Earl Thorfinn, about the time of the Norman Con-
quest of England. The second relates the lives of
Thorfinn's sons, Paul and Erlend, but more especially
of the holy Earl Magnus, of his murder, and of the
wonderful things that happened afterwards through
his holiness. The third part tells of the earls after
St. Magnus, chiefly Earl Rognvald the Second, and the
great Viking, Sweyn Asleifson of Gairsay, generally
known as " the last of the Vikings." The whole
history given in the Orkney Saga includes the events
of the three centuries from 900 to 1200.

In addition to what we learn from the Orkney
Saga, we glean a few facts about the history of our
islands from other Sagas, such as the Sagas of the
Kings of Norway, usually called the " Heimskringla."
There are also many Norse poems which scholars say

The Norsemen and their Sagas. 31

must have been written in Orkney, or in some other
of the western Norse colonies, and from these we can
learn much about the life of the people, their thoughts,
and their beliefs, though very little about the actual
history of the islands. We do not know who were
the authors of these poems, but some of them were
really great poets, greater, perhaps, than any then
living in any other part of Europe.

Finally, there are occasional glimpses of our Norse
ancestors to be caught in the pages of the chronicles
and histories of the nations. Unfortunately, these
references are so often distorted by fear or hatred, or
so confused through scanty and imperfect knowledge,
that they add very little to what we already know
from Norse records. One good purpose, indeed, they
serve : they show that the Saga-men were in the main
truth-tellers, so that we can place reliance on their
stories, even where these are not found in the records
of other nations. The Saga-men also fill up many
gaps in the history of those countries which the
Norsemen visited, and thus they render our knowledge
of the Viking Age more complete, more detailed, and
more accurate, even as regards countries which were
to them foreicfn lands.

Ancient Bronze Spear -head ; Horn Mountina still preserved.

THE BEGINNING OF THE EARLDOM.

EFORE our story begins, Norway was
divided into a number of small king-
doms. About the year 890 a.d.
a king called Harald, who ruled
over one of these small kingdoms,
resolved to make himself master
of all Norway. He made a vow
that he would not cut his hair until he was acknow-
ledged king throughout the whole country. This
ambitious aim took some time to accomplish, and as
the years passed his thick locks grew long and shaggy.
Thus he got the name of Harald Shockhead.

One after another, however, he subdued the smaller
kingdoms, compelling the earls and chiefs to acknow-
ledge him as their king, or to leave the country.
Then began what may be called the second period
of Norse colonization in the west. Many of the
proudest and boldest of the Norsemen, deeming it a
disgrace to serve a king who was at best only their
equal, preferred to trust themselves and all their
belongings to the ocean, and take w^hatever fortune
might await them.

Those nobles who fled from Norway, regarding
Harald as their enemy, soon began to spread terror

The Beginning of the Earldom. 33

along the shores of Norway itself, returning to
plunder, and slay, and burn, as their fellow-country-
men had so often done in the west. Their chief
haunts were among the Orkneys and the Hebrides.
Thither they betook themselves with their booty
when winter came on. There they lived and feasted
all through the winter, and when spring came
they descended once more on the coasts of Norway.
Ireland and the west coast of England also suffered
from these raiders, and in France a determined effort
to conquer the country was at this time made by the
Norsemen. Hrolf or Rollo, the Norseman, became
master of the north of France, and gave to it a
new name — Normandy, the land of the Normans or
Norsemen.

The last great effort made by these Norse nobles
to break the power of King Harald was foiled by
their defeat at Hafursfrith. A great league had been
formed against Harald. Vikino^s from over the sea
crowded back to Norway to avenge their own injuries
and to help their kinsmen. The two fleets met at
Hafursfrith in the south of Norway, and a long and
stubborn battle ended in victory for Harald. This
battle had far-reaching results. It was the end of
the struggle for independence in Norway. Harald
was then left free to turn his attention to the chas-
tisement of the Vikings in the west. The result was
the foundation of the Norse Empire in the west, and
the colonization of Iceland and Greenland by those
Norsemen who still scorned to own the sway of the
Norwegian king.

With a large and splendidly equipped fleet, Harald
swooped down on the Vikings in Orkney and the

(1,384) 3

34 The Beginning of the Earldom.

Hebrides. Their resistance was feeble enough. Some
yielded themselves to the king ; others fled before him.
Nowhere was there anything like a pitched battle.
As far south as the Isle of Man, Harald pursued his
career of conquest. Turning north once more, he
established Norse jarldoms or earldoms in Orkney
and the Hebrides, to be subject henceforth to the
Norwegian crown. Then, considering that his vow
was fulfilled, Harald at last had his long hair cut, and
ivas afterwards known as Harald Fairhair.

One of Harald's chief friends and supporters was
Kognvald, Earl of Moeri and Romsdal, who was
called by the men of his time, " The mighty and wise
in council." This Rognvald was the father of Rollo
of Normandy. He had other sons named Ivar,
Thorir, Rollaug, Hallad, and Einar, and he had a
brother called Sigurd. The family makes a very
large figure in the history of those times. In one of
Harald's battles in the west fell Ivar, Rognvald's son.
Harald assigned to Rognvald the newl}^ created Jarl-
dom of Orkney in order to compensate him in some
measure for the loss of his son. But Rognvald had
already large estates in Norway. He thought that
these were quite enough for one man to govern.
Accordingly he handed over the Orkneys to his
brother Sigurd, who thus became the first Jarl or
Earl.

Sigurd, the first Earl of Orkney, sometimes called
Sigurd the Mighty, was a strong and energetic ruler.
When King Harald departed for Norway, the earl
at once began to strengthen himself in 'his new
dominions. He first allied himself with Thorstein
the Red, son of the Norse king of Dublin, and with

The Beginning of the Earldom. 35

the Norsemen in the Hebrides, and then invaded Scot-
land in an attempt to add to his earldom Caithness
and Sutherland. The Scots naturally offered a deter-
mined resistance. Their leader was Maelbride or
Melbrigda — called Melbrigda Tusk because he had a
large projecting tooth — Earl or Maormor of Koss.

After the war had lasted for some time, the two
earls agreed to meet and settle their quarrel, each
taking forty men with him. On the day fixed for the
meeting, Sigurd, suspecting, as he said, the good faith
of the Scots, mounted two men on each of his forty
horses, and came thus to the place appointed. As
soon as the Norsemen appeared in sight, Melbrigda
saw that he had been trapped, and turning to his
men, said, " We have been betrayed by Sigurd, for I
see two feet on each horse's side. The men must
therefore be twice as numerous as the horses that
bear them. Nevertheless let us harden our hearts
and sell our lives as dearly as we can."

Seeing the Scots prepared to die hard in the place
where they were, Sigurd divided his force and attacked
them at once in front and in flank. The battle was
fierce and bloody, but it ended in the total extermi-
nation of the small band of Scots. Sigurd, exulting
over his fallen foe, cut ofi* Melbrigda's head and fixed
it to his saddle. On his way home, in spurring his
horse his leg struck against the great projecting tooth
which had given Melbrigda his nickname, and the
tooth pierced his leg. Blood-poisoning followed, and
a few days later Earl Sigurd died in great pain on
the banks of the Dornoch Firth. He was buried at
a place now called Cyder Hall (Sigurd's Howe), near
Skibo Castle.

36 The Beginning of the Earldom.

Sigurd was succeeded in the earldom by his son
Guttorm. Guttorm ruled the islands for one short
and uneventful winter, and then died childless. For
some time the earldom was without a ruler. Vikings
once more began to make the Orkneys their head-
quarters, and to harass the more peaceful inhabitants
of the islands. When Kinp^ Harald heard that the
Orkneys were without a ruler, he asked Earl Eognvald
to make haste to send them another earl. Rognvald
then had the title of Earl of Orkney conferred on
his son Hallad, who sailed for the west as the third
earl. But Hallad was weak and indolent. The
western earldom was too turbulent and difficult to
govern. He soon wearied of his dignity, and at
last, deserting his earldom, went back to Norway.
After his ignominious withdrawal from the earldom,
the islands came under the rule of two Danish Vikings.

Although Hallad preferred a simple farmer's life to
an earl's dignity, there were others of Rognvald's sons
who were more ambitious. Einar especially was eager
to redeem the family honour by the expulsion of the
Vikings from the islands. Accordingly Einar was
chosen as Earl of Orkney, and after King Harald had
conferred on him the title, he set out for his earldom.
The old Earl of Moeri had never regarded his youngest
son with much favour, and, to tell the truth, neither
desired to see the other's face again.

Einar was the best and greatest of the early Norse
earls. In appearance he was tall and manly; his
face was somewhat disfigured by the loss of an eye,
but in spite of this he was reputed to be very sharp-
sighted. His father had prophesied that Einar would
never become a great chief ; yet he became the most

The Beginning of tlie Earldom. 37

famous of all Earl Rognvald's sons, with the exception
of Rollo of Normandy.

The earldom was in a state of great disorder when
Einar arrived. The Vikings had to be expelled, the
government had to be settled and established, and the
people had to learn to trust and obey their new earl.
All these things were accomplished in a marvellously
short space of time. The new earl also taught his
people many useful arts. Wood w^as scarce : Einar
knew that the people of Scotland used peat for fuel,
and he taught the Norsemen in the islands to do the
same. From this he got the name of Torf-Einar.

Soon a serious trouble arose. King Harald's sons
had now grown up to be very turbulent and over-
bearing men. They quarrelled with their father's
chiefs and earls. Two of them, Halfdan Highleg
and Gudrod Bright, attacked and slew Eognvald, Earl
of Moeri. Harald was enraged that his sons should
thus murder his best and most faithful counsellor and
friend. He marched against them with an army,
and ordered them to be seized and brought before
him. Gudrod gave himself up to his father, but
Halfdan seized a ship and sailed west to the
Orkneys.

Halfdan's sudden arrival in the earldom caused
panic for a time. Einar was quite unprepared for
an invasion. He accordingly thought it wiser to
escape to Caithness until he had time to collect his
forces. In the meantime Halfdan seized the govern-
ment of the isles, taking the title of King of Orkney
and Shetland. The same summer saw Einar back in
the Orkneys with a fleet and an army to regain his
earldom. The two fleets met somewhere off the island

38 The Beginning of the Earldom.

o£ Sanday. A fierce battle took place, and Halfdan's
force was practically annihilated. In the dusk of the
evening he himself leaped overboard and escaped.

Next morning the shores were searched for fugi-
tives. All who were found were slain, but Halfdan
himself had disappeared. While the search was still
proceeding, Einar was observed to stop suddenly and
gaze across the sea towards the island of North
Ronaldsay, or Rinansey, as it was then called.

" What see'st thou, jarl ? " asked one of his com-
panions. "I know not what it is," was the reply.
" Sometimes it appears to rise up, and sometimes to
lie down. It is either a bird in the air or a man on
the rocks, and I will find out."

This object which the earl saw was Halfdan, who
had probably just dragged his weary limbs from the
water, and was now struggling up over the rocks to
the land. The earl's men pursued and captured him.
He was at once brought before the earl, who ordered
him to be slain, to avenge his father's murder, and as
a sacrifice to Odin for the victory.

Angry as King Harald had been because of the
murder of Earl Rognvald, the death of his son at the
hands of Rognvald's son was not likely to be very
agreeable to him. Harald therefore determined to
make a second expedition to the west.

When Einar heard of Harald's intended visit to the
Orkneys, he thought that he would be safer out of
the king's way, and accordingly he crossed the Pent-
land Firth. Messengers went backwards and forwards
between the king and the earl for a while, arranging
terms of settlement. At length the king demanded
that the earldom should pay a fine of sixty marks.

The Beginning of the Earldom.

39

To that Einar agreed, and King Harald Fairhair bade
farewell to his western dominions for ever.

It was no easy matter for the Orkneymen to raise
the sixty marks, and the earl called a Thing or council
to discuss the matter. At length the earl offered to
pay the whole fine himself, on condition that all the
freehold or udal lands of the Orkneymen were handed
over to him in pledge for the amount that each had
to pay, and to this the islanders agreed.

In this way the earl came into possession of all the
udal lands in the Orkneys ; and it was not till the time
of Earl Sigurd the Stout, a century later, that the udal
rights were restored to the Orkneymen. Earl Einar spent
the rest of his days in peace. The earldom was well
ruled. Vikings were afraid to plunder the dominions
of so powerful a chief; and after a long and honourable
reign the good earl died on a sickbed — what the Vik-
ings called a "straw death" — about the year 933.

Remains of a Viking Ship found in Sioeden.

THE DARK CENTURY.

° ~HE tenth century may fitting^

be called the dark century of
Orcadian history. We know
very little of it except occa-
sional glimpses afforded by ob-
scure references in the Sagas ;
and the little that we do know
tells of treachery and bloodshed and murder to an
extent unusual even in the troubled annals of Orkney.
After the death of Torf-Einar the earldom came
into the hands of his three sons, Thorfinn — usually
called Thorfinn Skull-splitter — Arnkell, and Erlend.
The disturbed state of Norway, consequent on the
death of Harald Fairhair about the year 945, caused
turmoil and confusion throughout all those lands
which had been conquered and settled by the Norse-
men. Harald left behind him a brood of wild,
reckless sons, each of whom thought he had a right
to a share of his father's dominions. They filled the
whole land with turbulence and bloodshed.

Eric Bloody-axe had been Harald's favourite son,
and he at first took over the chief rule in Norway.
He was a brave and skilful warrior, but passionate,
avaricious, and treacherous in his disposition. The

The Dark Century. 41

same qualities were possessed in an even greater
degree by his queen, Gunnhilda. Their deeds of
violence soon estranged the hearts of their subjects.

Hakon, Harald's youngest son, who had been
brought up in England under the care of King
Athelstan, came to Norway to claim his share of
his father's dominions. Hakon was at this time
only in his fifteenth year, but he was daring and am-
bitious, and was the darling of the Norsemen both at
home and abroad. Eric Bloody-axe and Gunnhilda
were, on the other hand, regarded everywhere with
hatred and detestation. When, therefore, Hakon
invaded Norway and attempted to wrest the sover-
eignty from the hands of his elder brother, the latter
was deserted by his people and was forced to flee
from the country.

Eric crossed first to Orkney, where he gathered
a band of followers as reckless as himself, and then
held on to England and began to ravage the land
in the usual Viking fashion. Close friendship had
long existed between Athelstan and Harald Fairhair.
Athelstan professed similar friendship for Harald's
sons, and now offered Eric the lordship of North-
umbria. Eric was not so foolish as to reject this offer.
Gunnhilda and he with their family abode in peace
in Northumbria for about a year.

With the death of Athelstan fortune began once
more to frown upon the exiled king. King Edmund
thought it by no means desirable that the Norsemen
should hold so large a portion of his kingdom.
Knowing the insecurity of his tenure, Eric's reckless
spirit flashed at once into open rebellion. He left
Northumbria, sailed to Orkney, seized the Earls

42 The Dark Century.

Arnkell and Erlend, forced many other Orcadian
chiefs to join him^ and made a Viking raid on the
west coast of England. The raiders met with
resistance and a battle was fought; in this battle
fell Eric himself, both the Orkney earls, and most
of the other leaders.

When news of this disastrous expedition reached
Gunnhilda, who had remained with her family in
Northumbria, she in turn embarked for Orkney.
She and her sons claimed the earldom, seized the taxes,
and spread wrong and oppression over all the western
colonies. For a short time the islands suffered the
same misgovernment as Norway had already suffered
at her hands. But war now broke out between
Norway and Denmark. This seemed to afford her
a chance of regaining the Norwegian crown, and
Gunnhilda and her family sailed eastwards once more.
Ragnhilda, her daughter, was left behind in Orkney
to continue for a time her mother's acts of treachery
and bloodshed.

There are few worse characters in history than
Ragnhilda as depicted by the Saga. She seemed to
have a mania for plots and murders. Married first
to Arnfinn, one of the sons of Earl Thorfinn, she
caused him to be murdered at Murkle in Caithness,
for no reason that we can find out, and then married
his brother Havard. On the death of his father
Thorfinn, shortly afterwards, Havard became earl. He
is known in history as Havard the Harvest-happy,
because during his time the islands were blessed with
good harvests. Havard also met his death at the
instigation of his wife. Ragnhilda persuaded Einar
Oily-tongue, his nephew, to murder the earl, promis-

The Dark Century. 43

ing to marry him and secure for liim the earldom
when the deed was done. Einar set on Havard in
Stenness, and slew him after a hard struggle. But it
was apparently no part of Ragnhilda's plan to marry
Einar Oily-tongue. She now professed the greatest
indignation and grief at the murder of Earl Havard,
and called for vengeance on his murderer. Einar
Oily-tongue had a cousin, also called Einar. He in
turn fell a victim to the wiles of Kagnhilda. By
promising or at least hinting that she would marry
the man who avenged the murder of Earl Havard,
she succeeded in getting the second Einar to mur-
der the first, and ended by marrying Ljot, the third
son of Earl Thorhnn, who was the real heir to the
earldom.

This was by no means the end of Ragnhilda's
wickedness. Ljot had a brother, Skuli, who was not
at all satisfied that the former should have the whole
earldom. It was an easy matter to make trouble
between the two brothers. In the end Skuli left the
islands for Scotland, and became Earl of Caithness
and a vassal of the Scottish king. Bad feeling
continued between the brothers, and was carefully
fostered by Ragnhilda. Ultimately they met in arms
in Caithness, Skuli with a Scottish army, and Ljot
with the forces of the earldom. The Scots were
defeated and Skuli slain.

Ljot now added Caithness to his earldom, but the
Scots again and again strove to reconquer it. Finally
a great battle was fought at Skidmire in Caithness.
The Norsemen gained the day, but the earl was
fatally wounded. There remained one son of Thor-
finn Skull -splitter, named Hlodver, who now became

44 The Dark Century.

earl over an earldom exhausted and impoverished by-
twenty years of misgovernment and bloodshed, and
embroiled in an arduous struggle with Scotland for
the possession of Caithness.

The Orkney earldom, however, was now on the eve
of a great expansion. Under the son and grandson of
Hlodver, Sigurd the Stout and Thorfinn the Mighty,
the Norse dominion in the west attained its widest
bounds, and the earldom of Orkney its greatest im-
portance. For more than half a century, with little
or no interference from Norway, the Orkney earls
helped to mould the history of Ireland and of Scot-
land ; and until the union of England and Denmark
took place under Canute, the Norse Earls of Orkney
were probably the most powerful chieftains in the
British Isles.

It was in the time of Earl Sigurd that Christianity
was first introduced among the Norse inhabitants of
Orkney. Olaf, Tryggvi's son. King of Norway, had
embraced the new faith, and his methods of promoting
the religion which he professed were characteristic of
his time and race. The story of the conversion of
Earl Sigurd and his followers is thus given in the
Saga : —

" Olaf, Tryggvi's son, sailed from the west to the
Orkneys ; but because the Pentland Firth was not
passable, he laid his ship up under the lee in Osmund's
Voe, off Rognvald's Isle. But there in the voe lay
already Earl Sigurd, Hlodver's son, with three ships,
and then meant to go a-roving. But as soon as King
Olaf knew that the earl was there, he made them call
him to come and speak with him. But when the
earl came on board the king's ship. King Olaf began

The Dark Century. 45

his speech." (We pass over his long historical review
of the establishment of the Orkney earldom and its
dependence upon the kings of Norway, and give only
his closing sentences.)

" ' Now, as so it is, Earl Sigurd, that thou hast come
into my power, now thou hast two choices before
thee, very uneven. One is that thou shalt take the
right faith and become my man, and allow thyself to
be baptized and all thy undermen; then shalt thou
have a sure hope of honour from me, and to have and
to hold as my underman this realm, with earl's title
and full freedom as thou hast erewhile had it ; and
this over and above, which is much more worth, to
rule in everlasting bliss with all-ruling God — that is
sure to thee if thou keepest all His commandments.
This is the other choice, which is very doleful and
unlike the first — that now on the spot thou shalt die,
and after thy death I shall let fire and sword ruth-
lessly rage over all the Orkneys, burn and brand
homesteads and men, unless this folk will have
salvation and believe on the true God '

" But when Earl Sigurd had heard so long and
clever a speech of King Olaf, he hardened his heart
against him, and spoke thus : ' It must be told thee,
King Olaf, that I have firmly made up my mind that
I will not and may not and shall not forego that faith
which my kinsmen and forefathers had before me ;
for I know no better counsel than they, and I know
not that that faith is better which thou preachest than
this which we have now had and held all our lives.'

" And with that the king saw the earl so stiffhecked
in his error, he seized his young son, whom the earl
had with him, and who had grown up there in the

46 The Dark Century.

isles. This son of the earl the king bore forward on
the prow and drew his sword, and made ready to cut
off the lad's head, with these words, ' Now mayst thou
see, Earl Sigurd, that I will spare no man who will
not serve Almighty God, or listen to my exhortations
and hearken to this blessed message ; and for that
I will now on this very spot slay this thy son before
thine eyes, with this same sword which I grasp, unless
thou and thy men serve my God; for hence out of
the isles will I not go before I have forwarded and
fulfilled this His glorious errand, and thou and thy
son, whom I now hold, have taken on you baptism.'

" And in the strait to which the earl was now come,
he chose the choice which the king would have, and
which was better for him, to take the right faith.
Then the earl was baptized, and all the folk in the
Orkneys. After that Earl Sigurd was made after
this world's honour King Olaf's earl, and held under
him lands and fiefs, and gave him for an hostage that
same son of his of whom it was spoken before ; he
was called Whelp or Hound. Olaf made them
christen the lad by the name of Hlodver, and carried
him away with him to Norway. Earl Sigurd bound
with oaths all their agreement, and next after that
Olaf sailed away from the Orkneys, but set up there
behind him priests to mend the folk's ways and teach
them holy wisdom ; so they. King Olaf and Sigurd,
parted with friendship. Hlodver lived but a scanty
time ; but after that he was dead Earl Sigurd showed
King Olaf no service. He took to wife then the
daughter of Malcolm the Scot King, and Thorfinn was
their son."

So does the Saga tell this dramatic tale ; and we

The Dark Century. 47

may notice that the earl's allegiance to the new faith
was as fickle as his fidelity to the king, for a few
years later we find him fighting in the ranks of the
heathen against the Christian king, Brian of Ireland,
under the shadow of his raven banner, a flag endowed
by his mother's spells with the twofold magical power
of ensuring victory to those who followed it, but
death to him who bore it.

The story of " King Brian's battle," or the battle of
Clontarf, is one of the most stirring in the old records,
and we give it here as told by the Saga-man : —

"Then King Sigtrygg [of Ireland] stirred in his
business with Earl Sigurd, and egged him on to go to
the war with King Brian. The earl was long stead-
fast, but the end of it was that he said it might come
about. He said he must have his mother's hand for
his help, and be king in Ireland if they slew Brian.
But all his men besought Earl Sigurd not to go into
the war, but it was all no good. So they parted on
the understanding that Earl Sigurd gave his word to
go ; but King Sigtrygg promised him his mother and
the kingdom. It was so settled that Earl Sigurd was
to come with all his host to Dublin by Palm Sunday.

" Then King Sigtrygg fared south to Ireland, and
told his mother, Kormlada, that the earl had under-
taken to come, and also what he had pledged him-
self to grant him. She showed herself well pleased
at that, but said they must gather greater force
still. Sigtrygg asked whence this was to be looked
for. She said that there were two Vikings lying
off the west of Man; and they had thirty ships,
and 'they are men of such hardihood that nothing
can withstand them. The one's name is Ospak, and

48 The Dark Century.

the other's Brodir. Thou shalfc fare to find them,
and spare nothing to get them into thy quarrel,
whatever price they ask.'

" Now King Sigtrygg fares and seeks the Vikings,
and found them lying outside off Man. King Sigtrygg
brings forward his errand at once ; but Brodir shi-ank
from helping him until he, King Sigtrygg, promised
him the kingdom and his mother, and they were
to keep this such a secret that Earl Sigurd should
know nothing about it. Brodir, too, was to come to
Dublin on Palm Sunday. King Sigtrygg fared home
to his mother and told her how things stood. After
that those brothers, Ospak and Brodir, talked together ;
and then Brodir told Ospak all that he and Sigtrygg
had spoken of, and bade him fare to battle with him
against King Brian, and said he set much store on
his going. Ospak said he would not fight against
so good a king. Then they were both wrath, and
sundered their band at once. Ospak had ten ships
and Brodir twenty. Ospak was a heathen, and the
wisest of all men. He laid his ships inside in a
sound, but Brodir lay outside him. Brodir had been
a Christian man and a mass-deacon by consecration ;
but he had thrown ofi" his faith and become God's
dastard, and now worshipped heathen fiends, and he
was of all men most skilled in sorcery. He had that
coat of mail on which no steel would bite. He was
both tall and strong, and had such long locks that
he tucked them under his belt. His hair was black.

" It so happened one night that a great din passed
over Brodir and his men, so that they all woke, and
sprang up and put on their clothes. Along with
that came a shower of boiling blood. Then they

The Dark Century. 49

covered themselves with their shields, but for all
that many were scalded. This wonder lasted all
till day, and a man had died on board every ship.
Then they slept during the day. The second night
there was again a din, and again they all sprang up.
Then swords leapt out of their sheaths, and axes
and spears flew about in the air and fought. The
weapons pressed them so hard that they had to shield
themselves ; but still many were wounded, and again
a man died out of every ship. This wonder lasted
all till day. Then they slept again the day after.
The third night there was a din of the same kind.
Then ravens flew at them, and it seemed to them
as though their beaks and claws were of iron. The
ravens pressed them so hard that they had to keep
them off with their swords, and covered themselves
with their shields. This went on again till day, and
then another man had died in every ship.

" Then they went to sleep first of all ; but when
Brodir woke up, he drew his breath painfully, and
bade them put ofl* the boat, ' For,' said he, ' I will
go to see Ospak.' Then he got into the boat and
some men with him. But when he found Ospak he
told him of the wonders which had befallen them,
and bade him say what he thought they boded.
Ospak would not tell him before he pledged him
peace, and Brodir promised him peace ; but Ospak
still shrank from telling him till night fell, for
Brodir never slew a man by night.

" Then Ospak spoke, and said, ' When blood rained
on you, therefore shall ye shed many men's blood,
both of your own and others. But when ye heard
a great din, then ye must have been shown the

(1.3S4) 4

50 The Dark Century.

crack oi doom, and ye shall all die speedily. But
when weapons fought against you, that must forebode
a battle. But when ravens pressed you, that marks
the devils which ye put faith in, and who will drag
you all down to the pains of hell.'

" Then Brodir was so w^rath that he could answer
never a word. But he went at once to his men,
and made them lay his ships in a line across the
sound, and moor them by bearing cables on shore,
and meant to slay them all next morning. Ospak
saw all their plan. Then he vowed to take the
true faith, and to go to King Brian and follow him
till his death-day. Then he took that counsel to
lay his ships in a line, and punt them along the
shore with poles, and cut the cables of Brodir's ships.
Then the ships of Brodir's men began to fall aboard
of one another. But they were all fast asleep ; and
then Ospak and his men got out of the firth, and
so west to Ireland, and came to Kincora. Then
Ospak told King Brian all that he had learnt, and
took baptism, and gave himself over into the king's
hand. After that King Brian made them gather
force over all his realm, and the whole host was
to come to Dublin in the week before Palm Sunday.

" Earl Sigurd, Hlodver's son, busked him from the
Orkneys, and Flosi offered to go with him. The
earl would not have that, since he had his pilgrimage
to fulfil. Flosi offered fifteen men of his band to go
on the voyage, and the earl accepted them ; but Flosi
fared with Earl Gilli to the Southern Isles. Thor-
stein, the son of Hall of the Side, went along with
Earl Sigurd, and Hrafn the Bed, and Erling of
Straumey. He would not that Hareck should go, but

The Dark Century. 51

said he would be sure to tell him first the tidings o£
his voyage. The earl came with all his host on Palm
Sunday to Dublin, and there, too, was come Brodir
with all his host. Brodir tried by sorcery how the
fio^ht would o^o. But the answer ran thus, that if the
fight were on Good Friday, King Brian would fall but
win the day ; but if they fought before, they would
all fall who were against him. Then Brodir said that
they must not fight before the Friday

" King Brian came with all his host to the burg ;
and on the Friday the host fared out of the burg,
and both armies were drawn up in array. Brodir
was on one wing of the battle, but King Sigtrygg
on the other. Earl Sigurd was in the mid-battle.
Now, it must be told of King Brian that he would
not fight on the fast-day, and so a shieldburg was
thrown round him, and his host was drawn up in
array in front of it. Wolf the Quarrelsome was on
that wing of the battle against which Brodir stood.
But on the other wing, where Sigtrygg stood against
them, were Ospak and his sons. But in mid-battle
was Kerthialfad, and before him the banners were
borne. Now the wings fall on one another, and
there was a very hard fight. Brodir went through
the host of the foe, and felled all the foremost that
stood there, but no steel would bite on him. Wolf
the Quarrelsome turned then to meet him, and thrust
at him twice so hard that Brodir fell before him at
each thrust, and was well-nigh not getting on his
feet again. But as soon as ever he found his feet,
he fled away into the wood at once.

"Earl Sigurd had a hard battle against Kerthial-
fad, and Kerthialfad came on so fast that he laid low

52 The Dark Century.

all who were in the front rank, and he broke the
array o£ Earl Sigurd right up to his banner, and
slew the banner-bearer. Then he got another man
to bear the banner, and there was again a hard fight.
Kerthialfad smote this man too his death-blow at
once, and so on one after the other all who stood near
him. Then Earl Sigurd called on Thorstein, the son
of Hall of the Side, to bear the banner, and Thorstein
was just about to lift the banner. But then Amundi
the White said, ' Don't bear the banner ! for all they
who bear it get their death.' ' Hrafn the Ked ! '
called out Earl Sigurd, 'bear thou the banner.'
' Bear thine own devil thyself,' answered Hrafn.
Then the earl said, ' 'Tis fittest that the beggar
should bear the bag;' and with that he took the
banner from the staff and put it under his cloak.
A little after, Amundi the White was slain, and then
the earl was pierced through with a spear. Ospak
had gone through all the battle on his wing. He had
been sore wounded, and lost both his sons ere King
Sigtrygg fled before him. Then flight broke out
throup-hout all the host. Thorstein, Hall of the Side's
son, stood still while all the others fled, and tied his
shoestring. Then Kerthialfad asked why he ran not
as the others. ' Because,' said Thorstein, ' I can't
get home to-night, since I am at home out in Iceland.'

Kerthialfad gave him peace

" Now Brodir saw that King Brian's men were
chasing the fleers, and that there were few men
by the shieldburg. Then he rushed out of the wood,
and broke through the shieldburg, and hewed at the
king. The lad Takt threw his arm in the way, and
the stroke took it ofl" and the king's head too; but

The Dark Century.

53

the king's blood came on the lad's stump, and the
stump was healed by it on the spot. Then Brodir
called out with a loud voice, ' Now man can tell that
Brodir felled Brian.' Then men ran after those who
were chasing the fleers, and they were told that King
Brian had fallen ; and then they turned back straight-
way, both Wolf the Quarrelsome and Kerthialfad.
Then they threw a ring round Brodir and his men,
and threw branches of trees upon them, and so

Brodir was taken alive After that they took King

Brian's body and laid it out. The king's head had

grown to the trunk

" This event happened in the Orkneys, that Hareck
thought he saw Earl Sigurd, and some men with
him. Then Hareck took his horse and rode to meet
the earl. Men say that they met and rode under a
brae ; but they were never seen again, and not a scrap
was ever found of Hareck."

From the " Njala Saga,'' translated hy Sir G. W. Dasent, D. C.L.

{By 'permission of the Controller of H.M. Stationery Office.)

Ancient Bronze Weapons and Ornaments.

EARL THORFINN AND EARL ROGNVALD.

^^^^lARL SIGURD, as has been mentioned,
m\ ^ took as his second wife the daughter
^^^ o£ Malcolm the Second, King of Scots.

^i^jl They had but one son, Thorfinn,

Wms^^W called the Mighty, the greatest of his
^^^^ race, who became the most powerful
of all the Orkney earls. When he
was but five winters old Thorfinn was sent to his
grandfather Malcolm to be brought up at the Scottish
Court, and on his father's death he was made Earl
of Caithness and Sutherland.

Einar and Brusi, sons of Sigurd by his first wife,
then ruled over the islands. Einar was ambitious
and warlike, Brusi mild and peaceful. When they
shared the earldom between them, Brusi was content
with a third part, while Einar took over the re-
mainder ; and so matters stood for a time.

When Thorfinn grew up to manhood, he was not
content with his large domains in Scotland. He put
forward a claim to one-third of the Orkneys as his
rightful share. Einar would have disputed the claim ;
but Brusi resigned his share to Thorfinn, and an
agreement was made that when Einar died his share
should be handed over to Brusi. So peace was kept

Earl Thorfinn and Earl Rognvald. 55

for the time. But when Einar died, Thorfinn seized
half of the whole earldom.

Brusi was unable to resist the great power of
Thorfinn, so he resolved to go east to Norway, and
ask Olaf the king to do justice between him and
his brother. Thorfinn also went to Norway to plead
his own cause. King Olaf, unwilling to increase the
power of a subject already too powerful, decided in
favour of Brusi. But when the two earls returned
to the islands, Brusi found the task of ruling his
dominions and defending them against the Vikings
too heavy for him, and Thorfinn no doubt took care
that there should always be plenty of trouble for him
to face.

At last Brusi was glad to hand over two-thirds
of the earldom to Thorfinn, on condition of his under-
taking to defend the islands ; and this arrangement
lasted till Brusi's death.

In the meantime, Rognvald, Brusi's son, had been
growing up at the Court of Olaf, King of Norway,
and he was a close friend of Magnus, Olaf 's son, who
afterwards became king. When Rognvald heard
that Brusi, his father, was dead, and that Earl Thorfinn
had seized the whole earldom, he prepared to fare
westward and claim his share of the land. Thorfinn
was now the most powerful ruler in all the western
lands. He had defeated the Scots in a great sea-
fight off" Deerness ; he had subdued the Western Isles ;
he had conquered great realms in Scotland ; and he
had made himself master of the half of Ireland.

At the time when Rognvald came to the Orkneys,
however, Thorfinn had wars on his hands in the
Western Isles and in Ireland, and he was glad to

56 Earl Thorfinn and Earl Rognvald.

offer Rognvald two-thirds of the islands in return
for his friendship and his help. So for a time the
two earls lived in friendship with each other.

Then evil men made mischief between them, and
Thorfinn demanded back the third of the land which
had belonged to Earl Einar. Rognvald refused, and
sailed away to Norway to ask help from King
Magnus. With a fleet of Norwegian ships he came
back to Orkney, and was met in the Pentland Firth
by the ships of Earl Thorfinn. Earl Rognvald's
ships were fewer in number, but their larger size
at first gave him the advantage. Earl Thorfinn was
hard pressed ; but at last he persuaded his brother-
in-law, Kalf Arnesson, whose ships were lying by
watching the fight, to come to his aid and row against
Rognvald. Then the tide of battle turned against
Earl Rognvald, and only by the darkness of the
night was he enabled to escape, and once more to find
his way to Norway.

Again King Magnus came to his help ; but this
time Earl Rognvald tried to take Thorfinn by sur-
prise, so he sailed away to Orkney in the dead of
winter with only one ship. Before there was any
news of his coming, he surrounded the house where
Earl Thorfinn was feasting, and set it on fire. Only
the women and children were allowed to go free ;
but while the warriors were in confusion, seeking
some way of escape, the great earl broke a hole
through the side of the house where the smoke was
thickest, and, carrying his wife, Ingibiorg, in his arms,
he escaped in the darkness to the seashore, took a
boat, and rowed across to Caithness.

Now it seemed that Rognvald's success was com-

Earl Thorfinn and Earl Rognvald. 57

plete, for he thought that Earl Thorfinn was surely
dead. When Christmas-time was at hand, he pre-
pared to hold a great feast at Kirkwall, and with
some of his men he took a ship to Papa Stronsay
to bring over a cargo of malt for the brewing. They
stayed there for the night, and sat long over the fire
telling of all their adventures. Meanwhile, however,
Earl Thorfinn had come back from Caithness to seek
revenge. In the darkness he and his men surrounded
the house where Earl Eognvald sat, and set it on fire.
All except the earl's men were allowed to come out,
being drawn over the pile of wood w^hich Thorfinn's
men had placed before the door.

While this was being done, a man suddenly leaped
over the pile, and over the armed men beside it, and
disappeared in the darkness.

"That must be Earl Eognvald," cried Thorfinn,
" for no one else could do such a feat." Then they
all ran to search for Earl Eognvald in the darkness.
The barking of his dog betrayed the earl's hiding-
place to his enemies, and soon he was found and slain
among the rocks upon the shore.

Next morninor Thorfinn and his men took Earl
Eognvald's ship and sailed to Kirkwall. And when
Eoo^nvald's men who were in the town came, unarmed,
expecting to meet the earl, they were set upon by
Earl Thorfinn's men, and thirty of them were slain.
These men were of the bodyguard of King Magnus,
and only one of them was allowed to go back to
Norway to tell the tidings to the king.

Then for eighteen years Thorfinn ruled the earldom,
till the day of his death. He was b}^ far the greatest
of the Orkney earls. He built Christ's Kirk in

58 Earl Thorfinn and Earl Ro^nvald.

Birsay, and in his time the Bishopric of Orkney was
founded. During his later years the islands enjoyed
peace, and many wise laws were made ; and when the
great earl died there was much sorrow in the Orkneys.
So the poet sings in his honour : —

" Swarthy shall become the bright sun,
In the dark sea shall the earth sink,
Finished shall be Austri's labour,
And the wild sea hide the mountains.
Ere there be in these fair islands
Born a chief to rule the people —
May our God both keep and help them—
Greater than the lost Earl Thorhnn."

Paul and Erlend, the two sons of Thorfinn, suc-
ceeded to the earldom, and for some time they ruled
in harmony together. They fought for King Harald
Hardradi against Harold, Godwin's son, at the battle
of Stamford Bridge in Yorkshire in 1066, but were
allowed to return in peace to their earldom. Trouble
arose between the brothers when their sons grew to
manhood, and Magnus Barefoot, King of Norway,
made a descent upon the islands. He carried the
two brothers into exile, appointing his own son
Sigurd as " King " of Orkney, which post he held
until his father's death made him King of Norway.
Hakon, Paul's son, and Magnus, Erlend's son, after-
wards called St. Magnus, then became joint earls.

Their joint rule had the usual result, quarrels and
misunderstandings, and was brought to an end by
the murder of Earl Magnus in Egilsay in 1115.
The story is told in the Saga of Earl Magnus, from
which the next chapter is taken.

THE SLAYING OF EARL MAGNUS.

T. MAGNUS, the isle earl, was the most
peerless of men, tall of growth, manly,
and lively of look, virtuous in his
ways, fortunate in fight, a sage in
wit, ready-tongued and lordly-minded,
lavish of money and high-spirited,
quick of counsel, and more beloved
of his friends than any man. Blithe and of kind
speech to wise and good men, but hard and unspar-
ing against robbers and sea-rovers, he let many men
be slain who harried the freemen and land-folk.
He made murderers and thieves be taken, and visited
as well on the powerful as on the weak robberies
and thieveries and all ill deeds. He was no favourer
of his friends in his judgments, for he valued more
godly justice than the distinctions of rank. He was
open-handed to chiefs and powerful men, but still he

ever showed most care for poor men

"Those kinsmen, Magnus and Hakon, held the
wardship of the land for some while, so that they

were well agreed But when those kinsmen had

ruled the land some time, then again happened, what
often and always can happen, that many ill-willing
men set about spoiling their kinship. Then unlucky

60 The Slaying of Earl Magnus.

men gathered more about Hakon, for that he was
very envious of the friendships and lordliness of his
kinsman Magnus.

" Two men are they who are named, who were with
Earl Hakon, and who were the worst of all the tale-
bearers between those kinsmen, Sigurd and Sighvat
Sock. This slander came so far with the gossip of
wicked men, that those kinsmen again gathered forces
together, and each earl faced against the other with
a great company. Then both of them held on to
Hrossey [the Mainland], where the place of meeting
■of those Orkneyingers was. But when they came
there, then each drew up his men in array, and they
made them ready to battle. There were then the
earls and all the great men, and there, too, were
many friends of both who did all they could to
set them at one again. Many then came between
them with manliness and good-will. This meeting
was in Lent, a little before Palm Sunday. But
because many men of their well-wishers took a
share in clearing up these difficulties between them,
but would stand by neither to do harm to the
other, then they bound their agreement with oaths
and handsels. And when some time had gone by
after that, then Earl Hakon, with falsehood and
fair words, settled with the blessed Earl Magnus
to meet him on a certain day, so that their kinship
and steadfast new-made peace should not be turned
aside or set at naught. This meeting for a stead-
fast peace and a thorough atonement between them
was to be in Easter week that spring on Egil's Isle
[Egilsay]. This pleased Earl Magnus well, being,
as he was, a thoroughly whole-hearted man, far

The Slaying of Earl Magnus. 61

from all doubt, guile, or greed; and each of them
was to have two ships, and each just as many men :
this both swore, to hold and keep those terms of
peace which the wisest men made up their minds
to declare between them.

" But when Eastertide was gone by, each made him
ready for this meeting. Earl Magnus summoned to
him all those men whom he knew to be kindest-
hearted and likeliest to do a good turn to both
those kinsmen. He had two long-ships and just
as many men as was said. And when he was ready
he held on his course to Egil's Isle. And as they
were rowing in calm over the smooth sea, there rose
a billow against the ship which the earl steered,
and fell on the ship just where the earl sat. The
earl's men wondered much at this token, that the
billow fell on them in a calm where no man had
ever known it to fall before, and where the water
under was deep. Then the earl said, 'It is not
strange that ye wonder at this; but my thought
is, that this is a foreboding of my life's end, may
be that may happen which was before spoken about
Earl Hakon. We should so make up our minds
about our undertaking, that I guess my kinsman
Hakon must not mean to deal fairly by us at this
meeting.' The earl's men were afraid at these words,
when he said he had so short hope as to his life's
end, and bade him take heed for his life, and not
fare further trusting in Earl Hakon. Earl Magnus
answers, ' We shall fare on still, and may all God's
v\^ill be done as to our voyage.'

" Now it must be told about Earl Hakon, that he
summoned to him a great company, and had many

62 The Slaying of Earl Magnus.

war-ships, and all manned and trimmed as though
they were to run out to battle. And when the force
came too^ether, the earl makes it clear to the men
that he meant at that meeting so to settle matters
between himself and Earl Magnus that they should
not both of them be over the Orkneys. Many of
his men showed themselves well pleased at this pur-
pose, and added many fearful words; and they,
Sigurd and Sighvat Sock, were among the worst in
their utterance. Then men began to row hard, and
they fared furiously. Havard, Gunni's son, was on
board the earl's ship, a friend and counsellor of the
earl's, and a fast friend to both alike. Hakon had
hidden from him this bad counsel, which Havard
would surely not join in. And when he knew the
earl was so steadfast in this bad counsel, then he
jumped from the earl's ship and took to swimming,
and swam to an isle where no man dwelt.

"Earl Magnus came first to Egil's Isle with his
company, and when they saw Hakon coming they
saw that he had eight war -ships; he thought he
knew then that treachery must be meant. Earl
Magnus then betook himself up on the isle with
his men, and went to the church to pray, and was
there that night; but his men offered to defend
him. The earl answers, 'I will not lay your life
in risk for me, and if pe^ce is not to be made
between us two kinsmen, then be it as God wills.'
Then his men thought that what he had said when
the billow fell on them was coming true. Now for
that he felt sure as to the hours of his life before-
hand, whether it was rather from his shrewdness or
of godly foresliowing, then he would not fly nor

The Slaying of Earl Magnus. 63

fare far from the meeting of his foes. He prayed
earnestly, and let a mass be sung to him.

" Hakon and his men jumped up in the morning,
and ran first to the church and ransacked it, and did
not find the earl. He had gone another way on the
isle with two men into a certain hiding-place. And
when the saint Earl Magnus saw that they sought for
him, then he calls out to them and says where he was ;
he bade them look nowhere else for him. And when
Hakon saw him, they ran thither with shouts and
crash of arms. Earl Magnus was then at his prayers
when they came to him, and when he had ended his
prayers then he signed himself [with the cross], and
said to Earl Hakon, with steadfast heart, * Thou didst
not well, kinsman, when thou wentest back on thy
oaths, and it is much to be hoped that thou doest
this more from others' badness than thine own. Now
will I offer thee three choices, that thou do one of
these rather than break thine oaths and let me be
slain guiltless.'

" Hakon's men asked what ofifer he made. * That is
the first, that I will go south to Rome, or out as far as
Jerusalem, and visit holy places, and have two ships
with me out of the land with what we need to have,
and so make atonement for both of our souls. This
I will swear, never to come back to the Orkneys/
To this they said ' Nay ' at once. Then Earl Magnus
spoke : ' Now seeing that my life is in your power,
and that I have in many things made myself an
outlaw before Almighty God, then send thou me up
into Scotland to some of both our friends, and let
me be there kept in ward, and two men with me
as a pastime. Take thou care then that I may

64 The Slaying of Earl Magnus.

never be able to get out of that wardship.' To this
they said ' Na^^ ' at once. Magnus spoke : ' One
choice is still behind which I will offer thee, and God
knows that I look more to your soul than to my
life ; but still it better beseems thee than to take my
life away. Let me be maimed in my limbs as thou
pleasest, or pluck out my eyes, and set me in a dark
dungeon.' Then Earl Hakon spoke : ' This settlement
I am ready to take, nor do I ask anything further.'
Then the chiefs sprang up and said to Earl Hakon,
* We will slay now either of you twain, and ye two
shall not both from this day forth rule the lands.'
Then answers Earl Hakon : ' Slay ye him rather, for
I will rather rule the realm and lands than die so
suddenly.' So says Holdbodi, a truthful freeman from
the Southern Isles, of the parley they had. He was
then with Magnus, and another man with him, when
they took him captive.

" So glad was the worthy Earl Magnus as though
he were bidden to a feast; he neither spoke with
hate nor words of wrath. And after this talk he
fell to prayer, and hid his face in the palms of his
hands, and shed out many tears before God's eye-
sight. When Earl Magnus, the saint, was done to
death, Hakon bade Ofeig his banner-bearer to slay
the earl, but he said ' Nay ' with the greatest
wrath. Then he forced Lifolf his cook to kill
Earl Magnus, but he began to weep aloud. 'Thou
shalt not weep for this,' said the earl, ' for that
there is fame in doino^ such deeds. Be steadfast in
thine heart, for thou shalt have my clothes, as is
the wont and law of men of ^ old, and thou shalt
not be afraid, for thou doest this against thy will..

L_,_.

^t^

(1,384)

66 The Slaying of Earl Magnus.

and he who forces thee misdoes more than thou.'
But when the earl had said this he threw off his kirtle
and gave it to Lifolf. After that he begged leave to
say his prayers, and that was granted him.

" He fell to earth, and gave himself over to God, and
brought himself as an offering to Him. He not only
prayed for himself or his friends, but rather there and
then for his foes and banemen, and forgave them with
all his heart what they had misdone towards him, and
confessed his own misdeeds to God, and prayed that
they might be washed off him by the outshedding of
his blood, and commended his soul into God's hand,
and prayed that God's angels would come to meet
his soul and bear it into the rest of Paradise. When
the friend of God was led out to slaughter he spoke
to Lifolf: 'Stand thou before me, and hew me on
my head a great wound, for it beseems not to chop
off chiefs' heads like thieves'. Strengthen thyself,
wretched man, for I have prayed to God that he
may have mercy upon thee.' After that he signed
himself [with the cross], and bowed himself to the
stroke. And his spirit passed to heaven.

"That spot was before mossy and stony. But a
little after, the worthiness of Earl Magnus before
God was so bright that there sprung up a green
sward where he was slain, and God showed that,
that he was slain for righteousness' sake, and in-
herited the fairness and greenness of Paradise, which

is called the earth of living men There had then

passed since the birth of Christ one thousand and
ninety and one winters."

From the " OrTcneyinga Saga," translated hy Sir G. W. Dasent, D.C.L.
(By permission of the Controller of H.M. Stationery Office.)

THE FOUNDING OF ST. MAGNUS
CATHEDRAL.

FTER the death of Hakon, the slayer
of Earl Magnus, the earldom was
divided between his two sons,
Harald the Smooth-talker, and
Paul the Speechless. There were
many bitter quarrels between the
brothers, until the death of the
former left Paul as sole ruler. That happened in
this wdse.

When they had been reconciled after one of their
quarrels, Harald invited Paul to a feast in his house
at Orphir. On the morning before the feast, Earl
Harald found his mother and his aunt working at a
very beautiful shirt, which, they said, was a present
for his brother Paul.

" Why should such a splendid garment be given to
Paul and not to me ? " asked the earl, taking it up in
his hand to look at it. Then before the women could
prevent him, he threw off the light cloak he was
wearing and put on the gorgeous shirt. No sooner
had it touched his skin than he was seized with
violent pains, and with a sickness of which he died
a few days later. The shirt had been poisoned in

68 The Founding of St. Magnus Cathedral.

order to cause Earl Paul's death, but it was Earl
Harald who fell a victim to his mother's cunning and
treacherous design.

Earl Paul did not long reign in peace. A new
claimant soon appeared for part of the lands. This
was Kali, the son of Kol and of Gunhild, the sister of
the murdered St. Magnus, who had been brought up
at the court of King Harald of Norway. He was
a man of noble appearance, bold and skilful in war,
and a born leader of men. He was in addition a
noted skald or poet, and many of the songs which he
made have come down to us in the Sag^as.

He now changed his name to Rognvald, which had
been a popular name in the isles since the days of
Rognvald, Brusi's son, and he is known in history as
Rognvald Kali, or Rognvald the Second.

Having the promise of help from Harald, the
Norwegian king, Rognvald sent a message to Earl
Paul, demanding that share of the islands which Earl
Magnus had held. Earl Paul, who was a good ruler,
and had many friends among the Orkneymen, replied
that he would guard his inheritance while God gave
him life. Rognvald then gathered ships and set sail
for Shetland, but his fleet was destroyed in Yell
Sound by the ships of Earl Paul, and he had to
escape to Norway in a merchant vessel.

Earl Paul thereupon placed beacons on some of the
highest hills in the islands, in order that he might
have warning of any attempt by Rognvald to make
a descent by way of Shetland, and the most important
of these beacons was on the Fair Isle.

When Rognvald, angry and disappointed, arrived
in Norway, he took counsel with his father Kol and

The Founding of St. Magnus Cathedral. 69

with an old man named Uni, who was reckoned a
very wise man ; and as he had many friends among
the men of Shetland, it was decided to make a new
attempt in the spring. By the aid of King Harald
and of his friends a new fleet was then got ready.

When the ships were assembled, Kognvald stood
up on the deck of his war-dragon to address his men.
" Earl Paul and the Orkneyingers," he said, " have
taken my inheritance, and refuse to give it up. My
grandfather, the holy Earl Magnus, was treacherously
slain by Paul's fatlier Hakon, and instead of giving
compensation for the wicked deed. Earl Paul would
wrong me still more in the matter of my inheritance.
However, if it be the will of God, I intend to fare to
the Orkne3^s, and there win what is mine by right, or
die with honour."

All the men cheered this speech, and when they
were silent Kol rose to speak. He advised his son
not to trust in his own strength for success. " I
advise thee, Rognvald," he said, " to make a vow that
if St. Maofnus secures to thee thine inheritance, thou
wilt build and dedicate to him in Kirkwall a minster
of such size and splendour that it shall be the wonder
and the glory of all the North."

Roo-nvald thouoiit this the best of advice. Rising
once more, he vowed to build in Kirkwall a splendid
cathedral in honour of St. Magnus, and to remove
thither with all reverence the remains of the sainted
earl. No sooner had this solemn vow been taken
than the wind became fair for sailing. The fleet at
once put to sea, and reached Shetland in a few days.

Now Rooiivald's real difiiculties began. How could
he take Earl Paul by surprise, as he wished to do,

70 The Founding of St. Magnus Cathedral.

with the beacon on the Fair Isle ready to give the
alarm as soon as his ships came in sight ? The
wisdom of Kol and of Uni came to his .aid. The
former had a plan to cause the beacon to be lit on
a false alarm, and the latter to prevent its being lit
when it was needed.

Kol set sail from Shetland towards evening with a
fleet of small boats. When they came in sight of the
Fair Isle, they hoisted their sails half way up the
masts, and with the oars the men kept back the
boats so as to make them sail very slowly. At the
same time they gradually hoisted their sails higher
and higher, so that to those in charge of the beacon
it might seem that a fleet was rapidly approaching
When it was dark the boats returned to the land.

The trick was successful. The Fair Isle beacon
flared up to the sky, those on North Ronaldsay and on
Westray followed, and soon every hilltop in the islands
showed its warning light. The Orkneymen took their
weapons and hurried to Kirkwall, where Earl Paul
had appointed them to gather in such a case, and all
was ready to meet the enemy ; but no enemy appeared.
Those who had charge of the beacons came with the
news of a fleet approaching; and after long waiting
other men were sent to look for its coming, but they
looked in vain. Quarrels soon began to arise as to
who was to blame for the false alarm, for the men
were angry at having been taken from their farm
work to no purpose; so the earl had to make peace
among them, and set other men to build up the
beacons again and to watch them.

Now came Uni's turn. He sailed to the Fair Isle
with three companions, and pretended to be an enemy

The Founding of St. Magnus Cathedral. 71

of Rognvald, saying many hard things against him
and his men. His three companions went out every
day to fish, but TJni himself stayed on shore. He
gradually made friends with the people of the isle,
and especially with those who had charge of the
beacon. At last he offered to watch it for them,
saying that he had nothing else to do, and his offer
was accepted. Uni then poured water on the beacon,
and kept it in such a state of dampness that it should
be impossible to light it when it was needed.

Thus by the time that Rognvald was to set out
from Shetland, Uni had everything prepared. As
soon as his ships were seen from the Fair Isle, the
men who had charge of the beacon tried to light ifc„
but in vain. There was no time to warn Earl Paul,,
and Rognvald landed in Westray without any alarm:
being given. The bishop now interfered between the^
rivals, and a truce was agreed to in order that terms
of peace might be arranged. '<^

And now things took a strange and unexpected
turn, so that Rognvald won the islands without any
figliting. While Earl Paul was on a visit to his
friend Sigurd of Westness, in Rousay, he went out
before breakfast one morning and mysteriously dis-
appeared. Sigurd sought him everywhere in vain.
At last they discovered that he had been seized and
carried off to Scotland by Sweyn Asleifson, and he
never returned. Earl Paul's men gradually came over
to Earl Rognvald, and he became ruler over the whole
earldom.

Earl Rognvald now set about fulfilling his vow
and raising a great cathedral in Kirkwall in honour
of St. Magnus. In 1137 the work was begun under

72 The Founding of St. Magnus Cathedral.

the superintendence of Kol, but many a long year
was to pass ere it should be finished. As the work
went on it soon became very costly to the earl. In
his difficulty he once more went to his father Kol
for advice. Kol said that Rognvald should declare
himself the heir of all landholders who died, and that
their sons should have to redeem their lands from
him. A Thing was called, and this law was passed ;
but the freemen also had the choice given them of
buying their lands outright, so that the earl might
not inherit them in the future. Most of the land-
holders took that plan, and now there was once more
plenty of money for the cathedral.
'** When the work was so far advanced that part of
the cathedral could be roofed in, the remains of St.
Magnus, which had already been removed from Christ
Church in Birsay, were laid to rest in the new minster.
Many great men have been laid in the same place
since then. Earl Eognvald himself was buried there,
and there too the remains of King Hakon rested for
a time before their removal to Bergen.

While on a visit to Norway, Earl Eognvald made
the acquaintance of a Crusader who had returned from
the Holy Land, and he determined that he also would
become a " Jorsalafarer," or pilgrim to Jerusalem. The
story of this strange voyage, in company with the
Bishop of Orkney and many of his countrymen —
half Vikings, half Crusaders — is well told in the
" Saga of Earl Eognvald," and in our next chapter
we give part of the narrative.

^

■75?—"

On the " Viking Path.'

THE JORSALAFARERS.

ARL ROGNVALD busked him that
summer to leave the Orkneys,
and he was rather late boun ; for
they had a long while to wait
for Eindrid, as his ship did not
come from Norway which he had
let be made there the winter
before. But when they were boun, they held on
their course away from the Orkneys in fifteen big-
ships.

" They sailed away from the Orkneys and south to
Scotland, and so on to England, and as they sailed
by Northumberland, off Humbermouth, Armod sang
a song, —

' The sea was high off Humbermouth
When our ships were beating out,
Bends the mast and sinks the land
'Neath our lee off Yesla-sand ;
Wave with veil of foam that rises
Drives not in the eyes of him
Who now sits at home ; the stripling
From the meeting rideth dry.'

" They sailed thence south round England and to
France. Nothing is said of their voyage before that
they came to that seaburg which is named Nerbon

The Jorsalafarers. 75

There these tidings had happened, that the earl who
before had ruled the town was dead. His name was
Germanus ; he left behind him a daughter young and
fair, whose name was Ermingerd. She kept watch and
w^ard over her father's inheritance, with the counsel
of the most noble men of her kinsfolk. They gave
that counsel to the queen that she should bid the earl
to a worthy feast, and said that by that she would be
famous if she welcomed heartily such men of rank
who had come so far to see her, and who would bear
her fame still further. The queen bade them see to
that. And when this counsel had been agreed on by
them, men w^ere sent to the earl, and he was told that
the queen bade him to a feast with as many of his
men as he chose to bring with him. The earl took
this bidding with thanks ; he chose out all his best
men for this journey with him. And when they came
to the feast, there was the best cheer, and nothino^ was
spared which could do the earl more honour than he
had ever met before.

" One day it happened as the earl sat at the feast
that the queen came into the hall and many women
w^ith her; she held a beaker of gold in her hand.
She was dressed in the best clothes, had her hair loose
as maidens wont to have, and had put a golden band
round her brow. She poured the wine into the earl's
cup, but her maidens danced before them. The earl
took her hand and the beaker too and set her on his
knee, and they talked much that day.

" The earl stayed there very long in the best of cheer.
The townsmen pressed the earl to settle down there,
and spoke out loudly about how they would give him
the lady to wife. The earl said he would fare on that

76 The Jorsalafarers.

voyage which he had purposed, but said that he would
come thither as he fared baqk, and then they could
carry out their plan or not as they pleased. After
that the earl busked him away thence with his fellow
voyagers. And as they sailed west of Thrasness they
had a good wind ; then they sat and drank and were
very merry.

" They fared till they came to Galicialand in the
winter before Yule, and meant to sit there Yule over.
They dealt with the landsmen, and begged them to set
them a market to buy food ; for the land was barren
and bad for food, and the landsmen thought it hard
to feed that host of men. Now these tidings had
happened there, that in that land sat a chief who was
a stranger, in a castle, and he had laid on the lands-
men very heavy burdens. He harried them on the
spot if they did not agree at once to all that he asked,
and he offered them the greatest tyranny and oppres-
sion. And when the earl spoke to the landsmen about
bringing him food to buy, they made him that offer,
that they would set them up a market thenceforth on
till Lent, but they must rid them in some way or
other of the men in the castle; but Earl Eognvald
was to bear the brunt in return for the right of hav-
ing all the goods that were gotten from them.

" The earl laid this bare before his men, and sought
counsel from them as to which choice he should take ;
but most of them were eager to fall on the castlemen,
and thought it bid fair for spoil. And so Earl
Rognvald and his host went into that agreement with
the landsmen. But when it drew near to Yule, Earl
Rognvald called his men to a talk, and said, —

" ' Now have we sat here awhile, and yet we have

The Jorsalafarers. 77

had nothing to do with the castlemen, but the lands-
men are getting rather slack in their dealings with us.
Me thinks they think that what we promised them will
have no fulfilment ; but still that is not manly not to
turn our hands to what we have promised. Now,
kinsman Erling, will I take counsel from you in what
way we shall win the castle, for I know that ye are
here some of you the greatest men for good counsel ;
but still I will beg all those men who are here that
each will throw in what he thinks is likeliest to be
worth trying.'

" Erling answered the earl's speech : ' I will not be
silent at your bidding. But I am not a man for
counsel, and it would be better rather to call on those
men for that who have seen more, and are more wont
to such exploits, as is Eindrid the Young. But here it
will be as the saying goes, " You must shoot at a bird
before you get him." And so we will try to give some
counsel, whatever comes of it. We shall to-day, if it
seems to you not bad counsel or to the other ship-
masters, go all of us to the wood, and bear each of us
three shoulder-bundles of fagots on our backs under
the castle ; for it seems to me as though the lime will
not be trusty if a great fire is brought to it. We
shall let this go on for the three next days and see
what turn things take.'

" They did as Erling bade ; and when that toil was
over, it was come right on to Yule. The bishop would
not let them make their onslaught while the Yule high
feast stood over them.

" That chief's name was Godfrey who dwelt in the
castle ; he was a wise man, and somewhat stricken in
years. He was a good clerk, and had fared far and

78 The Jorsalafarers.

wide, and knew many tongues. He was a grasping
man and a very unfair man. He called together his
men when he saw Kognvald's undertakings, and said
to them, —

" ' This scheme seems to me clever and harmful to
us which the Northmen have taken in hand. It will
befall us thus if fire is borne against us, that the
stone wall round the castle will be untrustworthy.
But the Northmen are strong and brave; we shall
have to look for a sharp fight from them if they get
a chance. I will now take counsel with you what
shall be done in this strait which has befallen us.'
But his men all bade him see to that for them.
Then he began to speak, and said, ' My first counsel
is that ye shall bind a cord round me and let me
slide down from the castle wall to-night. I shall
have on bad clothes, and fare into the camp of the
Northmen, and know what I can find out.'

" This counsel was taken as he had laid it down.
And when Godfrey came to Earl Rognvald he said
he was an old beggar carle, and spoke in Spanish ;
they understood that tongue best. He fared about
among all the booths and begged for food. He found
out that there was great envy and splitting into
parties amongst the Northmen. Eindrid was the
head of one side, but the earl of the other. Godfrey
came to Eindrid and got to talk with him, and
brought that before him that the chief who held
the castle had sent him thither. ' He will have
fellowship with thee, and he hopes that thou wilt
give him peace if the castle be won. He would
rather that thou shouldst have his treasures, if thou
wilt do so much in return for them, than those

The Jorsalafarers. 79

who would rather see him a dead man.' Of such
things they talked and much besides. But the earl
was kept in the dark ; all this went on by stealth
at first. And when Godfrey had stayed a while
with the earl's men, then he turned back to his men.
But this was why they did not flit what they
owned out of the castle, because they did not know
whether the storm would take place at all ; besides
they could not trust the landfolk.

" It was the tenth day of Yule that Earl Rognvald
rose up. The weather was good. Then he bade his
men put on their arms, and let the host be called up
to the castle with the trumpet. Then they drew the
wood towards it, and piled a bale round about the
wall. The earl drew up his men for the onslaught
where each of them should go. The earl goes against
it from the south with the Orkneyingers, Erling and
Aslag from the west, John and Gudorm from the east,
Eindrid the Young from the north with his followers.
And when they were boun for the storm they cast fire
into the bale.

" Now they began to press on fast both with fire
and weapons. Then they shot hard into the work
for they could not reach them by any other attack.
The castlemen stood loosely here and there on the
wall, for they had to guard themselves against the
shots. They poured out too burning pitch and brim-
stone, and the earl's men took little harm by that.
Now it turned out as Erling had guessed, that the
castle wall crumbled before the fire when the lime
would not stand it, and there were great breaches in it.

" Sigmund Angle was the name of a man in the
earl's bodyguard ; he was Sweyn Asliefson's step-

80 The Jorsalafarers.

son. He pressed on faster than any man to the
castle, and ever went on before the earl : he was
then scarcely grown up. And when the storm had
lasted awhile, then all men fled from the castle
wall. The wind was on from the south, and the
reek of the smoke lay towards Eindrid and his men.
And when the fire began to spread very fast, then
the earl made them bring water and cool the rubble
that was burned. And then there was a lull in the
assault.

"After that the earl made ready to storm, and
Sigmund Angle with him. There was then but a
little struggle, and they got into the castle. There
many men were slain, but those who would take
life gave themselves up to the earl's power. There
they took much goods, but they did not find the
chief, and scarcely any precious things. Then there
was forthwith much talk how Godfrey could have
got away; and then at once they had the greatest
doubt of Eindrid the Young, that he must have passed
him away somehow, and that he (Godfrey) must
have gone away under the smoke to the wood.

" After that Earl Rognvald and his host stayed
there a short time in Galicialand, and held on west
ofi" Spain. They harried wide in that part of Spain
which belonged to the heathen, and got there much
goods. After that they sailed west ofi" Spain, and got
there a great storm, and lay three days at anchor, so
that they shipped very much water, and it lay near
that they had lost their ships. After that they
hoisted their sails and beat out to Njorfa Sound [the
Strait of Gibraltar] with a very cross wind. They
sailed through Njorfa Sound, and then the weather

The Jorsalafarers. 81

began to get better. And then, as they bore out of
the sound, Eindrid the Young parted company from
the earl with six ships. He sailed over the sea to
Marseilles, but Rognvald and his ships lay behind
at the sound ; and men talked much about it, how
Eindrid had now himself given proof whether or not
he had helped Godfrey away.

" Nothing is told of the voyage of the earl and his
men before they came south off Sarkland, and lay in
the neighbourhood of Sardinia, and knew not what
land they were near. The weather had turned out
in this wise, that a great calm set in and mists and
smooth seas — though the nights were light — and they
saw scarcely at all from their ships, and so they made
little way. One morning it happened that the mist
lifted. Men stood up and looked about them. Then
the earl asked if men saw anything new. They said
they saw nought but two islets, little and steep, and
when they looked for the islets the second time, then
one of the islets was gone. They told this to the
earl. He began to say, * That can have been no islets.
That must be ships which men have out here in this
part of the world, which they call dromonds ; those
are ships big as holms to look on. But there, where
the other dromond lay, a breeze must have come down
on the sea, and they must have sailed away ; but these
must be wayfaring men, either chapmen or faring in
some other way on their business.'

"After that the earl lets them call to him the
bishop and all the shipmasters ; then he began to say :
' I call you together for this, lord bishop and Erling,
my kinsman : see ye any scheme or chance of ours
that we may win victory in some way over those who

0,384) 6

82 The Jorsalafarers.

are on the dromond.' The bishop answers : ' Hard, 1
guess, will it be for you to run your long-ships under
the dromond, for ye will have no better way of
boarding than by grappling the bulwarks with a
broad-axe ; but they will have brimstone and boiling
pitch to throw under your feet and over your heads.
Ye may see, earl, so wise as you are, that it is the
greatest rashness to lay one's self and one's men in
such risk.'

" Then Erling began to speak : ' Lord bishop,' he
says, ' likely it is that ye are best able to see this,
that there will be little hope of victory in rowing
against them. But somehow it seems to me that
though we try to run under the dromond, so methinks
it will be that the greatest weight of weapons will
fall beyond our ships, if we hug her close, broadside
to broadside. But if it be not so, then we can put
off from them quickly, for they will not chase us
in the dromond.'

" The earl began to say : ' That is spoken like a
man and quite to my mind. I will now make that
clear to the shipmasters and all the crews, that each
man shall busk him in his room, and arm himself as
he best can. After that we will row up to them.
But if they are Christian chapmen, then it will be in
our power to make peace with them ; but if they are
heathen, as I feel sure they are, then Almighty God
will yield us that mercy that we shall win the
victory over them. But of the war spoil which we
get there, we shall give the fiftieth penny to poor
men.' After that, men got out their arms and
heightened the bulwarks of their ships, and made
themselves ready according to the means which they

The Jorsalafarers. 83

had at hand. The earl settles where each of his ships
should run in. Then they made an onslaught on her
by rowing, and pulled up to her as briskly as they
could.

"But when those who were aboard the dromond
saw that ships were rowing up to them, they took
silken stuffs and costly goods and hung them out
on the bulwarks, and then made great shoutings and
bailings ; and it seemed to the earl's men as though
they dared the Northmen to come on against them.
Earl Rognvald laid his ship aft alongside the dromond
on the starboard, but Erling, too, aft on the larboard.
John and Aslak, they laid their ships forward each
on his own board, but the others amidships on both
boards ; and all the ships hugged her close, broadside
to broadside. And when they came under the
dromond, her sides were so high out of the water
that they could not reach up with their weapons.
But the foe poured down blazing brimstone and
flaming pitch over them. And it was as Erling
guessed it would be, that the greatest w^eight of
weapons fell out beyond the ships, and they had
no need to shield themselves on that side which w^as
next to the dromond, but those who were on the
other side held their shields over their heads and
sheltered themselves in that way.

" And when they made no way with their onslaught,
the bishop slioved his ship off and two others, and
they picked out and sent thither their bowmen, and
they lay within shot, and shot thence at the dromond,
and then that onslaught was the hardest that was
made. Then those on board the dromond got under
cover, but thought little about what those were doing

84 ihe Jorsalafarers.

who had laid their ships under the dromond. Earl
Rognvald called out then to his men, that they
should take their axes and hew asunder the broadside
of the dromond in the parts where she was least
ironbound. But when the men in the other ships
saw what the earl's men were about, they also took
the like counsel.

" Now, where Erling and his men had laid their
ship a great anchor hung on the dromond, and the
fluke was hung by the crook over the bulwark, but
the stock pointed down to Erling's ship. Audun the
Red was the name of Erling's bowman ; he was lifted
up on the anchor-stock. But after that he hauled up
to him more men, so that they stood as thick as ever
they could on the stock, and thence hewed at the
sides as they best could, and that hewing was by far
the highest up. And when they had hewn such
large doors that they could go into the dromond,
they made ready to board, and the earl and his men
got into the lower hold, but Erling and his men into
the upper. And when both their bands had come up
on the ship there was a fight both great and hard.
On board the dromond were Saracens, what we call
Mahomet's unbelievers. There were many black-
amoors, and they made the hardest struggle. Erling
got there a great wound on his neck near his shoulders
as he sprang up into the dromond. That healed so
ill that he bore his head on one side ever after. That
was why he was called Wryneck.

" And when they met Earl Rognvald and Erling,
the Saracens gave way before them to the forepart
of the ship, but the earl's men then boarded her one
after another. Then they were more numerous, and

The Jorsalafarers. 85

they pressed the enemy hard. They saw that on
board the dromond was one man who was both taller
and fairer than the others ; the Northmen held it to
be the truth that that man must be their chief.
Earl Kognvald said that they should not turn their
weapons against him, if they could take him in any
other way. Then they hemmed him in and bore him
down with their shields, and so he was taken and
afterwards carried to the bishop's ship, and few men
with him. They slew there much folk, and got much
goods and many costly things. When they had ended
the greatest part of their toil, they sat down and
rested themselves.

" Men spoke of these tidings which had happened
there. Then each spoke of what he thought he had
seen ; and men talked about who had been the first
to board the dromond, and could not agree about it.
Then some said that it was foolish that they should
not all have one story about these great things ; and
the end of it was that they agreed that Earl Kognvald
should settle the dispute, and afterwards they should
all back what he said.

" When they had stripped the dromond they put
fire into her and burnt her. And when that tall man
whom they had made captive saw that, he was much
stirred, and changed colour, and could not hold himself
still. But though they tried to make him speak, he
never said a word and made no manner of sign, nor
did he pay any heed to them whether they promised
him good or ill. But when the dromond began to
blaze, they saw as though blazing molten ore ran
down into the sea. That moved the captive man
much. They were quite sure then that they had

86 The Jorsalafarers.

looked for goods carelessly, and now the metal had
melted in the heat of the fire, whether it had been
gold or silver.

" Earl Eognvald and his men sailed thence south
under Sarkland, and lay under a seaburg, and made
a seven nights' truce with the townsmen, and had
dealings with them, and sold them the men whom
they had taken. No man would buy the tall man.
And after that the es^vl gave him leave to go away
and four men with him. He came down the next
morning with a train of men and told them that
he was a prince of Sarkland, and had sailed thence
with the dromond and all the goods that were aboard
her. He said, too, he thought that worst of all that
they burnt the dromond, and made such waste of that
great wealth that it was of no use to any one. ' But
now I have great power over your affairs. Now you
shall have the greatest good from me for having
spared my life and treated me with such honour
as ye could ; but I would be very willing that we
saw each other never again. And so now live safe
and sound and well.' After that he rode up the
country, but Earl Rognvald sailed thence south to
Crete, and they lay there in very foul weather.

" The earl and his men lay under Crete till they
got a fair wind for Jewry-land, and came to Acreburg
early on a Friday morning, and landed then with such
great pomp and state as was seldom seen there. The
earl and his men stayed in Acreburg a while. There
sickness came into their ranks, and many famous men
breathed their last. There Thorbjorn the Swarthy »
a liegeman, breathed his last.

" Earl Roofnvald and his men then fared from

The Jorsalafarers. 87

Acreburg, and sought all the holiest places in the
land of Jewry. They all fared to Jordan and bathed
there. Earl Koo^nvald and Sigmund Ano-le swam
across the river and went up on the bank there, and
thither where was a thicket of brushwood, and there
they twisted great knots. After that they fared back
to Jerusalem.

" Earl Rognvald and his men fared that summer
from the land of Jewry, and meant to go north to
Micklegarth [Constantinople], and came about autumn
to that town which is called Imbolar. They stayed
there a very long time in the town. They had that
watchword in the town, if men met one another
walking where it was throng and narrow, and the
one thought it needful that the other who met him
should yield him the path, then he says thus, ' Out
of the way ; out of the way.' One evening ,as the
earl and his men were coming out of the town, and
Erling Wryneck went out along the wharf to his
ship, some of the townsmen met him and called out,
' Out of the way ; out of the way.' Erling was very
drunk, and made as though he heard them not, and
when they ran against one another, Erling fell off the
wharf and down into the mud which was below ; and
his men ran down to pick him up, and had to strip
off every stitch of his clothes and wash him. Next
morning when he and the earl met, and he was told
what had happened, he smiled at it.

After that they fared away thence. And nothing
is told of their voyage before they come north to
Engilsness [Cape St. Angelo]. There they lay some
nights and waited for a wind which would seem fair
to them to sail north along the sea to Micklegarth.

88 The Jorsalafarers.

They took great pains then with their sailing, and so
sailed with great pomp, just as they had heard that
Sigurd Je wry-far er had done.

"When Earl Eognvald and his men came to Mickle-
garth they had a hearty welcome from the emperor
and the Varangians. Menelaus was then emperor
over Micklegarth, whom we call Manuel. He gave
the earl much goods, and offered them bounty-money
if they would stay there. They stayed there awhile
that winter in very good cheer. There was Eindrid
the Young, and he had very great honour from the
emperor. He had little to do with Earl Rognvald
and his men, and rather tried to set other men
against them.

" Earl Rognvald set out on his voyage home that
winter from Micklegarth, and fared first west to
Bulgarialand, to Dyrrachburg. Thence he sailed
west across the sea to Poule. There Earl Rognvald
and Bishop William and Erling, and all the nobler
men of their band, landed from their ships, and got
them horses and rode thence first to Rome, and so
homewards on the way from Rome until they come to
Denmark, and thence they fared north to Norway.
There men were glad to see them, and this voyage
was most famous, and they who had gone on it were
thought to be men of much more worth after than
before."

From the " Orkneyinga Saga," translated hy Sir G. W. Dasent, D.C.L.
{By permission of the Controller of H.M. Stationery Office.)

A Great VikiiTfj
{From the picture by H. JV. Koekkoek.)

SWEYN ASLEIFSON, THE LAST OF
THE VIKINGS.

HE sudden disappearance of Earl
Paul, by which Earl Kognvald
had been left in sole possession
of the Orkneys, was, as we have
said, due to a certain Viking,
Sweyn Asleifson of Gairsay. This
Sweyn is one of the most remark-
able men in all Orcadian history. Among the Vikings
of old he was the greatest, and he was the last. Of
him the Saga says : " He was the greatest man in the
western lands, either in old time or at the present day."
For the slaying oi one of Earl Paul's men Sweyn
had had to escape out of the isles. He abode for a time
in the Hebrides, and afterwards sought refuge in the
dales of Scotland, where Margaret, the daughter of
Earl Hakon, was married to Maddad, Earl of Athole.
He had promised to help Harald, their son, to become
Earl of the Orkneys, and it was with a view to this
that he kidnapped Earl Paul.

On that morning Earl Paul had gone out early
from Westness to hunt the otter near Scabro Head.
Sweyn had sailed over from Thurso, keeping to
the west of Hoy and the Mainland, and was now

Sweyn Asleifson. 91

rowing into Evie Sound, for he had heard that Earl
Paul was staying with Sigurd of Westness. As they
rowed near the land, Sweyn ordered all his men to
lie hid except those at the oars, that the ship might
look like a peaceful merchant- vessel.

When the earl saw the ship rowing near the rocks,
he called out to the men that they should go on to
Westness with their wares for Earl Paul. Then
Sw^ej^n, who was lying hid, bade his men ask where
the earl was.

" The earl is here on the rocks," was the reply.

" Kow quickly to land at a place where they will
not see us," said Sweyn to his men ; " and let us arm
ourselves, for we have work to do."

The ship w^as rowed to the shore, as he had said,
and Sweyn and his men armed themselves and fell
upon Earl Paul and his company. These, being un-
armed, were soon disposed of. The earl w^as seized
and taken aboard the ship, and Sweyn immediately
set sail for Scotland by the way he had come.

Sio-urd marvelled when the earl did not return
from his hunting, and men were sent out to look for
him. They came upon the bodies of the slain — nine-
teen of the earl's men and six strangers — but the earl
himself had disappeared. It was at first thought that
Earl Rognvald had had something to do with his dis-
appearance, and it was many days before men knew
what had become of the vanished earl.

In the meantime Sweyn had carried Paul to Athole,
and placed him in the keeping of Maddad and
Margaret. His after fate is unknown. The story
which Sweyn afterwards told is that Paul did not
wish to return to Orkney, so shameful had been the

92 Sweyn Asleifson,

manner of liis leaving it ; and that he wished it to
be reported that he had been blinded or maimed, in
order that men should not seek to bring him back.
Sweyn himself came back to Orkney with this story ;
and he acknowledged Earl Kognvald, and became very,
friendly with him.

As the great Earl of Warwick has been called
"the king -maker" in England, so Sweyn may be
called the " earl-maker " in Orkney. He it was who
caused Harald, the son of Maddad, to be made earl,
and he also supported Earl Erlend in his claims
while Earl Kognvald was in the Holy Land. He
gained the friendship of David, King of Scots, Viking
thoupfh he was, and the terror of the Scottish and
Irish seas. Many of Sweyn's Viking raids are told
in the Orkney Saga, one of the most famous being
that known as Sweyn's "Broadcloth Cruise." The
following account is given of this cruise, and of the
death of Swej^n : —

" These tidings happened once on a time, that Sweyn
Asleifson fared away on his spring-cruise, and Hakon,
Earl Harald's son, fared with him ; and they had five
ships with oars, and all of them large. They harried
about among the Southern Isles. Then the folk were
so scared at him in the Southern Isles that men hid
all their goods and chattels in the earth or in piles
of rocks. Sweyn sailed as far south as Man, and
got ill off for spoil. Thence they sailed out under
Ireland and harried there. But when they came
about south under Dublin, then two keels sailed there
from ofi" the main, which had come from England, and
meant to steer for Dublin; they were laden with English
cloths, and great store of goods was aboard them.

the Last of the Vikings. 93

"Sweyn and his men pulled up to the keels and
offered them battle. Little came of the defence of
the Englishmen before Sweyn gave the word to
board. Then the Englishmen were made prisoners.
And there they robbed them of every penny which
was aboard the keels, save that the Englishmen kept
the clothes they stood in and some food, and went on
their way afterwards with the keels ; but Sweyn and
his men fared to the Southern Isles and shared their
war-spoil.

" They sailed from the west with great pomp. They
did this as a glory for themselves when they lay in
harbours, that they threw awnings of English cloth
over their ships. But when they sailed into the
Orkneys, they sewed the cloth on the fore-part of
the sails, so that it looked in that wise as though
the sails were made altogether of broadcloth. This
they called the Broadcloth Cruise.

" Sweyn fared home to his house in Gairsay. He
had taken from the keels much wine and English
mead. Now when Sweyn had been at home a short
while, he bade to him Earl Harald, and made a
worthy feast against his coming. When Earl Harald
was at the feast, there was much talk amongst them
of Sweyn's good cheer. The earl spoke and said :
'This I would now, Sweyn, that thou' would st lay
aside thy sea-rovings ; 'tis good now to drive home
with a whole wain. But thou knowest this, that
thou hast long maintained thyself and thy men by
sea-roving ; but so it fares with most men who live
by unfair means, that they lose their lives in strife,
if they do not break themselves from it.'

" Then Sweyn answered, and looked to the earl, and

04 Sweyn Asleifson,

spoke with a smile, and said thus : ' Well spoken is
this, lord, and friendly spoken, and it will be good to
take a bit of good counsel from you ; but some men
lay that to your door, that ye too are men of little
fairness.' The earl answered : ' I shall have to answer
for my share, but a gossiping tongue drives me to say
what I do.'

" Sweyn said : ' Good, no doubt, drives you to it,
lord. And so it shall be, that I will leave off sea-
roving, for I find that I am growing old, and strength
lessens much in hardships and warfare. Now I will
go out on my autumn-cruise, and I would that it
might be with no less glory than the spring-cruise
was ; but after that my wayfaring shall be over.*
The earl answers : * 'Tis hard to see, messmate,
whether death or lasting luck will come first.' After
that they dropped talking about it. Earl Harald
fared away from the feast, and was led out with fitting
gifts. So he and Sweyn parted with great love-tokens.

"A little while after, Sweyn busks him for his
roving cruise ; he had seven long-ships, and all great.
Hakon, Earl Harald's son, went along with Sweyn on
his voyage. They held on their course first to the
Southern Isles, and got there little war-spoil ; thence
they fared out under Ireland, and harried there far
and wide. They fared so far south as Dublin, and
came upon them there very suddenly, so that the
townsmen were not ware of them before they had
got into the town. They took there much goods.
They made prisoners there those men who were rulers
there in the town. The upshot of their business was
that they gave the town up into Sweyn's power, and
agreed to pay as great a ransom as he chose to lay

the Last of the Vikings. 95

upon them. Sweyn was also to hold the town with
his men and to have rule over it. The Dublin men
sware an oath to do this. Next morning Sweyn was
to come into the town and take the ransom.

"Now it must be told of what happened in the
town during the night. The men of good counsel
who were in the town held a meeting among them-
selves, and talked over the straits which had befallen
them ; it seemed to them hard to let their town come
into the power of the Orkneyingers, and worst of all
of that man whom they knew to be the most unjust
man in the western lands. So they agreed amongst
themselves that they would cheat Sweyn if they might.
They took that counsel, that they dug great trenches
before the burg-gate on the inside, and in many other
places between the houses where it was meant that
Sweyn and his men should pass; but men lay in
wait there in the houses hard by with weapons.
They laid planks over the trenches, so that they
should fall down as soon as ever a man's weight
comes on them. After that they strewed straw on
the planks so that the trenches might not be seen,
and so bided the morrow.

" On the morning after, Sweyn and his men arose
and put on their arms ; after that they went to the
town. And when they came inside beyond the burg-
gate, the Dublin men made a lane from the burg-gate
right to the trenches. Sweyn and his men saw not
what they were doing, and ran into the trenches.
The townsmen then ran straightway to hold the
burg- gate, but some to the trenches, and brought
their arms to bear on Sweyn and his men. It was
unhandy for them to make any defence, and Sweyn

96

Sweyn Asleifson.

lost his life there in the trenches, and all those who
had gone into the town. So it was said that Sweyn
was the last to die of all his messmates, and spoke
these words ere he died : ' Know this, all men, whetlier
I lose my life to-day or not, that I am one of the
Saint Earl Rognvald's bodyguard, and I now mean to
put my trust in being there where he is with God.'
Sweyn's men fared at once to their ships and pulled
away, and nothing is told about their voyage before
they come into the Orkneys."

From the " Orkneyinga Saga," translated by Sir G. W. Dasent, D.C.L,
{By permission of the Controller of H.M. Stationery Office.)

THE DECAY OF THE EARLDOM AND THE
END OF THE WESTERN KINGDOM.

iFTER the death of Ecarl Kognvald,
the islands were ruled for almost
fifty years by Harald Maddadson.
Harald's later days were full of
troubles. With the decay of his
powers the glory of the earldom
also faded away. In 1194, when
Sverrir was King of Norway, a re-
bellion took place, with the object of
placing Sigurd Erlingson on the throne. Sigurd's
party, known as the " Eyjarskeggjar " or " Island-
beardies," had their headquarters in the Orkneys.
There they collected their forces, and there the re-
bellion was organized. The rebels were completely
overthrown in a great battle fought near Bergen.
Sverrir summoned Earl Harald before him in 1196
to answer for his share in the matter. As a punish-
ment for permitting plots against him to be hatched
in Orkney — plots which the gray-haired old earl had
been powerless to prevent — the king compelled him
to surrender the government of Shetland. For nearly
two centuries thereafter Orkney and Shetland were
separate, the former ruled by the earl, the latter by
a governor appointed by the Norwegian crown.

(1,384) 7

98 The Decay of the Earldom

The result o£ this was twofold. In the first place
it weakened the power of the Orkney earldom ; in
the second place it caused the earldom to draw nearer
to Scotland, and to come more and more under
Scottish influence. But the aged earl's cup of sorrow
was not yet full. He quarrelled also with the
Scottish king. As a consequence of this quarrel he
was stripped of his Scottish possessions, and his son
Thorfinn perished miserably, a prisoner in Roxburgh
Castle. When Earl Harald died in 1206, full of
years and of sorrows, the earldom was but the shadow
of its former self.

After Harald's death, his two sons, John and David,
succeeded to the earldom. David did not live long,
and John was then left sole earl. This earl, the
last of the old Norse jarls, was Earl of Orkney,
excluding Shetland, holding that earldom from the
Norwegian king, and Earl of Caithness, including
Sutherland, holding that from the King of Scotland.
Matters continued in this state generally till the
pledging of the islands in 1468, the only change
being that Shetland was again added to the Orkney
earldom in 1379, when Henry, the first of the St.
Clairs, became earl.

The days of Earl John, like those of his father,
were stormy, and disaster after disaster fell upon the
isles. The burning of Bishop Adam at Halkirk in
Caithness brought down on the earl the vengeance of
King Alexander the Second of Scotland. The earl
had no hand in the murder, but he was near by, and,
in the opinion of King Alexander, might have pre-
vented the tragedy. Then a feud arose between the
earl and some of the leaders of a Norse expedition to

and the End of the Western Kingdom. 99

the Western Isles. The earl was attacked suddenly
in Thurso, and there murdered. This took place in
the year 1231. The murderers took refuge in the
Castle of Weir, where they were besieged by the
earl's friends and adherents. Ultimately both parties
agreed that the case should be submitted to the
Norwegian king.

The chief men of the islands embarked for Norway
to be present at the trial of the murderers, which
ended in their conviction and punishment. But a
terrible disaster for the Orkney earldom followed.
All the leading men of the islands left Norway in
one ship, and set sail for Orkney late in autumn.
Stormy weather set in shortly after their departure.
Fears which were entertained for the safety of the
ship proved to be only too well founded : the ship
was never heard of again. With her went down
nearly all the nobility of the earldom. This disaster,
which happened in 1232, was irremediable. Well
does the Saga of Hakon Hakonson say, " Many
men have had to suffer for this later." The earldom
never recovered from the loss of its best blood, and
but for this loss the after course of events might
have been very different. Henceforth the Orkney
earldom plays but a subordinate part in the history
of the North.

In 1232 King Alexander of Scotland granted the
Earldom of Caithness to Magnus, son of Gilbride,
Earl of Angus. Magnus was at the same time con-
firmed in the Earldom of Orkney by the King of
Norway. But King Alexander made Sutherland a
separate earldom, William Friskyn being created first
earl. Thus within a period of forty years the

100 The Decay of the Earldom

earldom, which had at one time rivalled the power of
Scotland itself, and had been at once the centre and
the defence of the Norse Empire in the west, was
stripped of more than half its territories.

The Scottish king had a deep purpose to serve
in thus weakening the northern earldom. He was
already casting covetous eyes on the Hebrides, and
every blow struck at the power of the Orkney earl
was a step towards the conquest of the Western Isles.
In the heyday of Norse ascendency there was danger
of the western Norse colonies swallowing up Scot-
land rather than of Scotland swallowing up these
colonies. But Hakon of Norway was now too busy
at home repressing internal disorders to give much
thought to the ambitions of the Scottish king, and
the Orkney earl was too weak to form a serious
obstacle, besides which he was more than half Scottish
himself.

For many years the chiefs of the Hebrides and the
Western Isles had been wavering in their allegiance
to the Norwegian crown. King Alexander was also
doing his utmost to undermine Norse influence in
the west. While he was carrying on intrigues with
the western chiefs, he at the same time kept sending
embassies to Norway to treat with Hakon for the
purchase of these islands. Hakon's answer was brief
and decided: He was not yet so much in want of
money that he needed to sell his lands for it.

The next King of Scotland, Alexander the Third,
had the same ambitions as his father, and as resolutely
pursued his schemes for the subjugation of the
Hebrides. He was, moreover, a young, energetic, and
warlike king. He found the island chiefs very

and the End of the Western Kingdom. 101

troublesome neighbours. His father's policy of in-
trigue was too slow for him, and he determined to
take by force what he could not obtain by treaty.

In 1262 the Scots invaded the Norse dominions
in the west. Hakon, who had now pacified his own
kingdom, was at last roused to make a serious effort
to preserve his over-sea dominions. In the summer of
1263 he "let letters of summons be sent round all
Norway, and called out the levies both of men and
stores as he thought the land could bear it. He sum-
moned all the host to meet him early in the summer
at Bergen."

A mighty fleet assembled in obedience to the
king's command, and, under the leadership of Hakon
himself, set sail from Norway in the end of July 1263.
After delaying through the summer in Shetland and
Orkney, this ill-fated expedition reached the Firth
of Clyde in late autumn. Alexander the Third,
knowing well that he could not hope to meet the
Norsemen at sea, prepared to give them as warm a
reception as possible wherever they might land. In
the meantime he pretended to be anxious for peace.
Negotiations were opened between the two kings.
Alexander temporized : winter was approaching.

Hakon's patience at last gave way, and breaking
off negotiations, the Norsemen began to harry the
country, receiving willing aid from the various half-
Celtic chieftains, who enjoyed nothing so much as an
opportunity of ravaging the fertile Lowlands. But
that ally whose coming Alexander had been awaiting
came at length ; on the first of October a great storm
from the south-west arose suddenly during the night.
Hakon's ships began to drag their anchors. They

102 The Decay of the Earldom

fouled each other in the darkness, and several were
driven ashore on the Ayrshire coast. When morning
dawned, Hakon found his own ship within bowshot
of the shore, while the Scots were already plundering
one which had stranded near by.

During a lull in the storm Hakon managed to
land a detachment of his men to protect the stranded
galley. But the storm increased in fury once more
The Norsemen on shore were outnumbered probably
by ten to one, and no help could be sent from the
ships. The Vikings threw themselves into a circle
bristling with spear-points. Onset after onset of the
Scots forced the ring of spears slowly back towards
the shore, but they could not break it. All day long
the battle raged — the Norsemen with the angry sea
behind them, and no hope of succour from their fleet;
the Scots determined to drive the invaders into the
sea, or slay them where they stood.

As evening began to fall the storm moderated, and
Hakon was able to send reinforcements on shore.
The Scots were borne backwards by the onset of
the fresh warriors. But night was falling, and the
Norsemen were anxious to get back to their ships,
for the storm was not yet over. They accordingly
hastened to take advantage of the breathing-space
which they had won, and retired to their ships.

Such was the famous battle of Largs, which both
Scots and Norsemen claim as a victory. In itself it
was little more than a skirmish ; but the events of
that night and day, the storm and the battle together,
gave the deathblow to Norse dominion in the west.
The heart of King Hakon failed him. His men
also were discouraged. The shattered remains of the

and the End of the Western Kingdom. 103

once splendid fleet set sail for Orkney, and the great
invasion of Scotland was over.

Broken in spirit and shattered in health, Hakon
reached Orkney only to die. Part of his fleet was
ordered to proceed to Norway, and part was laid up
for the winter in Scapa Bay and Honton Cove.
Scarcely had these matters been attended to when
his fatal sickness seized the king. In the Bishop's
Palace in Kirkwall he spent his last hours. Here at
midnight, on Saturday, December 15, 1263, in the
sixtieth year of his eventful life, died Hakon Hakon-
son, the last of the great sea-kings of Norway.

The remains of the king were carried to the
cathedral, where they lay in state, and were after-
wards temporarily interred in the choir near the
shrine of St. Magnus. When spring came, Hakon's
body was exhumed and taken to Bergen in Norway,
where it was finally laid to rest in the choir of
Christ Church.

After the death of Hakon, his son Magnus, now
King of Norway, sent ambassadors to the Scottish
king to treat for peace, and a treaty, was signed at
Perth in 1266. By this treaty Norway resigned
her rights in the Hebrides, in consideration of
Scotland's paying down four thousand marks, be-
sides a tribute of one hundred marks to be paid
annually in St. Magnus Cathedral, Kirkwall. This
tribute, called the Annual of Norway, was the direct
cause of the troubles which preceded the marriage of
James the Third of Scotland and Princess Margaret
of Denmark.

A large proportion of King Hakon's forces had
to be maintained in Orkney during the winter sue-

104

The Decay of the Earldom.

ceeding Largs. To provide for this, the lands of the
earldom were divided into sections, and charged v^ith
the maintenance of the soldiers in proportion to the
amount of " skatt " each section ov^ed the king. The
Skatt Book of the earldom was prepared — a list of
the lands therein, and the amount of skatt which
they paid. It was the Domesday Book of the
Orkneys. On this Skatt Book were based the
Scottish Rentals, which came into such prominence
in the history of the Scottish oppressions during the
sixteenth centurv.

Huins of the Bishop's Palace, Kirkivall.

THE ANNEXATION TO SCOTLAND.

HE history of Orkney during the
^^^ two centuries which intervened
between the battle of Laro^s
and the annexation to Scotland
contains little of interest. The
earldom was held by Scottish
families, first the Strathernes,
and then the St. Glairs. The sympathies of the earls
were with the Scots, the people were mainly Norse,
and as a natural consequence quarrels frequently
arose between the earls and their subjects. Another
source of trouble was the fact that the earls generally
held possessions in Scotland, and were thus subjects
of Scotland as well as of Norway. The islands were
neglected by both countries, being of little importance
to Norway as governed by foreigners, and of little
interest to Scotland as owned by a foreign country.

Several of the earls took a prominent part in the
affairs of Scotland, and were men of mark and highly
esteemed by the Scottish sovereigns. Thus Magnus,
the last of the An^us line, was one of the eio^ht
Scottish noblemen who, in 1320, subscribed the
famous letter to the Pope asserting the independence
of Scotland ; and Henry, the second of the St. Glairs,

106 The Annexation to Scotland.

was entrusted by King Robert the Third with the
task of conveying the young Prince James to a
safe asylum in France, when that prince was made
prisoner by the English.

In the history of Orkney itself the only man of
note among the Scottish earls was Henry, the first
of the St. Glairs, the builder of Kirkwall Castle.
Henry became earl in 1379. Under his rule Orkney
and Shetland were once more united. He is the
only one of the Scottish earls who can be at all
compared w^ith the old Norse jarls of Orkney. In
everything except name he was king of his island
dominions, ruling them as he pleased without much
thought of either Norway or Scotland.

It was in the time of William, the third of the
St. Clair earls, that the transference of Orkney and
Shetland to Scotland took place. The circumstances
which led to this important event must now be
related.

After the battle of Largs a treaty of peace between
Norway and Scotland had been signed at Perth in
1266, Norway resigning the Hebrides in return for
an immediate payment by Scotland of four thousand
marks, and in addition a tribute of one hundred
marks to be paid annually in St. Magnus Cathedral,
Kirkwall. For every failure to pay this tribute —
known in history as the Annual of Norway — Scot-
land was liable to a penalty of ten thousand marks.
This treaty was afterwards confirmed by Hakon the
Fifth and Robert the Bruce at Inverness in 1312.

In 1397 Norway, Sweden, and Denmark were
united under one sovereign. When, in 1 448, Christian
the First became king of the united realms, payment

The Annexation to Scotland. 107

by Scotland of the Annual of Norway had been
neglected for some forty years. According to the
Treaty of Perth, Scotland was therefore liable to a
penalty of over four hundred thousand marks.
Christian's exchequer was empty ; here was an op-
portunity of replenishing it. About 1460 Christian
made a threatening demand foi payment of the
whole sum due.

The sum demanded was so large that it would
have been no easy matter for Scotland to pay it,
however willing she might be. Christian had con-
cluded an alliance with France, and France had
always been the iirm friend of Scotland. When a
rupture between Denmark and Scotland seemed inevit-
able, the French king employed all his influence to
secure a compromise. He suggested that a marriage
should be arranged between Prince James of Scotland,
afterwards James the Third, and Margaret, Christian's
daughter, trusting that the negotiations in connection
with the marriage would lead to the friendly settle-
ment of the matters in dispute.

Prolonged negotiations took place between the two
countries. Scotland at first demanded the remission
of the Annual of Norway with arrears, the cession
of Orkney and Shetland, and a dowry of a hundred
thousand crowns. To these terms Christian refused
to listen. The death of James the Second at the
siege of Koxburgh Castle suspended negotiations for
a time. Some years after the accession of James
the Third they were resumed. The final result
was the Marriage Treaty of 1468, which brought
about the transference of Orkney and Shetland to
Scotland.

108 The Annexation to Scotland.

The main provisions of the Marriage Treaty were
these : — (1.) That the Princess Margaret's dowry
should amount to fifty thousand florins ; ten thousand
to be paid within the year, and the islands of Ork-
ney to be pledged for the remaining forty thousand.
— Only two thousand florins were paid, Shetland being
pledged in the following year for the remaining eight
thousand. (2.) That the rights of Christian as King
of Norway should be exercised in the islands by the
Scottish king until the forty thousand florins were
paid. (8.) That the islanders should enjoy their own
customs and laws while under Scottish rule.

Christian would not consent to the permanent
cession of the islands to Scotland under any condi-
tions. In fact nothing but the direst financial straits
can account for his even pledging them. But he had
just finished a costly war in Sweden, his exchequer
was empty, and the Scottish marriage seemed to him
very desirable.

On this Marriage Treaty of 1468, and on the
agreement afterwards made with Earl William, Scot-
land bases her claim to the islands of Orkney and
Shetland. It is certain that Christian intended to
redeem the islands, and even as late as 1668 the
plenipotentiaries of Europe assembled at Breda de-
clared that Denmark — it ought to be Norway — still
retained the right to redeem them.

Scottish influence in Orkney had been increasing
for many years previous to the annexation. The
needy dependants of the various Scottish noblemen
who held the earldom found the islands a happy
hunting-ground for their avarice or for their need.
There was thus a strong party in Orkney in favour

The Annexation to Scotland.

109

of the annexation to Scotland. But the large
majority of the inhabitants could not but regard the
change of masters with dismay. Scotland was an
alien power, and had usually been a hostile one.
Her laws and institutions had little in common with
those of the northern earldom. Besides this, her
tenure being only temporary, she had no inducement
to promote the welfare of the islands, but on the
contrary her obvious interest was to make as much
profit as possible from her opportunity.

From 1468 onwards, till long after the termination
of Scottish and the beginning of British rule, the lot
of the islanders was far from enviable. The trans-
formation of the leading Norse earldom into a minor
Scottish county was the work of those years. The
process by which this was accomplished was a long-
continued series of injuries and oppressions, the story
of which forms too long a tale to be fully told here.

Knocking Stone and Mell.

UDAL AND FEUDAL.

RKNEY and Shetland were handed
over to Scotland, but care was
taken to secure the rio^hts of the
inhabitants of the islands by the
provision in the treaty of 1468
that they should be governed ac-
cording to their own laws and
usages. These were different from those of Scotland
in several important particulars. Unfortunately, the
new Scottish rulers did not know the laws of the
earldom, and did not care to learn them.

With regard to the holding of land, the laws of
Scotland were entirely different from those of Orkney.
In Scotland land was held according to the feudal
system, in Orkney according to the udal system.
Under the feudal system the king was nominally
the owner of all the lands in the kingdom. The
various landlords held their lands from him as their
superior, in exchange for certain services to be rendered
or payments to be made, and by a written title, with-
out which they had no legal claim to the land.

The udal system has been described as " the direct
negation of every feudal principle." The udaller
held his land without any written title, subject to no

Udal and Feudal. Ill

service or payment to a superior, and with full pos-
session and every conceivable right of ownership.
The udaller was a peasant noble ; he was the king's
equal and not his vassal. He owed king or jarl no
services, duties, or payment for his udal lands, which
he held as an absolute possession, inalienable from him
and his race.

It must not be supposed that all the land in
Orkney was held udally, or that all the inhabitants
were udallers. There were some udallers who held
part of their land as tenants, and many of the
islanders held no udal land at all. All landholders,
whether udallers or tenants, had to pay a tax, called
" skatt." This was a tax levied to meet the expenses
of government and defence. Skatt was paid some-
times to the King of Norway, sometimes to the Earl of
Orkney, but it was legally the property of the crown.
Hakon, when he lay dying in Kirkwall, levied skatt
on the landholders of Orkney for the support of his
troops during the winter. In this he was only exer-
cising the undoubted right of the crown of Norw^ay.
But the skatt was never a rent, and never carried
with it the acknowledgment of king or jarl as the
real landowner.

When Orkney came under Scottish rule, the King
of Scotland became entitled to the skatt. Some Scot-
tish nobleman or churchman was usually appointed to
collect the revenues of the crown in the earldom. This
nobleman or churchman was paid a commission on
what he collected, together with any trifles he might
extort " in ony manner of way." Sometimes the
revenues of the earldom were farmed out to the col-
lector, an annual sum being paid by him into the royal

112 Udal and Feudal.

treasury as rent. This arrangement afforded much
room for extortion, and all the more so because the
crown collector was ignorant, or could pretend to be
ignorant, of Orkney law and of the udal system.

In 1471 the Scottish crown purchased from Earl
William all the lands and revenues which he held as
Earl of Orkney. In 1472 Bishop William TuUoch
was appointed to collect the revenues of the crown in
Orkney. The period of Scottish oppression at once
began. The bishop was deeply imbued with feudal
prejudices. He had a rental drawn up, in which he
registered the lands of udaller and tenant indis-
criminately, with a studied confusion of their different
rights. Both udal and feudal payments were exacted
as rents from all holders of land.

The udaller had no one to whom he could appeal
to right his wrongs and protect him against oppres-
sion. He had no written titles. The bishop ruled
the bishopric as bisliop, and he ruled the earldom as
representative of the crown. The churches were filled
with Scottish priests subservient to his will. The
struggle was hopeless from the beginning, but it took
a century to reduce the peasant nobles of Orkney to
the position and rank of tenant farmers, and in the
meantime the various rulers of the islands reaped
a rich harvest.

Bishop Tulloch's rule lasted for seven years, and
was followed by six years under Bishop Andrew.
Then in 1485 Henry St. Clair was appointed re-
presentative of the crown in Orkney. The St. Glairs
had always been popular in the islands, and the
islanders rejoiced at the appointment of Lord Henry.
He redressed a number of grievances, but the funda-

Udal and Feudal. 113

mental change of udal into feudal which had begun
went on unchecked. It was too profitable a confusion
to be put right.

After the death of Lord Henry St. Clair at Flodden,
turmoil and confusion reigned in the earldom. His
widow, Lady Margaret Hepburn, held the crown lands
in Orkney for nearly thirty years, but she was quite
unable to rule the islands. A report got abroad that
the king intended to give Orkney a feudal lord. Li
1529 the trouble came to a head. James St. Clair,
the most popular of that popular family, was made
Governor of Kirkwall Castle, and put himself at the
head of the discontented faction. Open rebellion fol-
lowed. Lord William St. Clair, son of Lady Margaret
remained loyal, and had to escape to Caithness,

Allied with the Earl of Caithness, Lord William
invaded the islands with a considerable force. The
invaders were met at Summerdale in Stenness by the
rebels under James St. Clair, and were defeated with
great slaughter. Many old stories about this battle still
exist. The Caithness force landed in Orphir, and on
their march they are said to have encountered a witch,
whom they consulted as to the omens of success. She
walked before them, unwinding together two balls
of thread, one blue and the other red. She asked
them to choose one of the balls as the symbol of
their fortune, and they chose the red. The red
thread was the first to come to an end.

Unwilling to accept this omen, they demanded that
the witch should give them yet another sign. She
thereupon informed the Earl of Caithness that which-
ever side lost the first man in the fight would lose
the day. Soon afterwards a boy was met herding

(1,384) <S

114 Udal and Feudal.

cattle, and by order of the earl he was slain. Only
after the deed was done did they discover that the
boy was not an Orcadian but a native of Caithness.

Already prepared for defeat by these bad omens, the
invaders came upon the Orcadian force at Summer-
dale. The Orcadians assailed them with showers of
stones, and the Caithness force was quickly destroyed.
Only one Orcadian is said to have fallen. He, having
dressed himself in the clothes of one of the fallen
enemy, was slain in the dusk of the evening as he
returned home. His mother mistook him for one of
the invading force, and felled him by a blow with a
stone in the foot of a stocking.

Such are some of the tales tradition has woven
round this fight. It was the last stand of the udallers,
and the last pitched battle fought on Orcadian soil,
if we except the siege of Kirkwall Castle during the
relDellion of the Stewarts.

After the battle of Summerdale the islands still
remained in a very unsettled condition, until in 1540
James the Fifth thought his presence necessary to
restore tranquillity. The king stayed with the bishop
in Kirkwall, though not in the ancient Bishop's Palace,
which had witnessed the death of King Hakon. The
visit of the king led to the removal of many abuses.
But his death in 1542, and the long minority of his
daughter, Mary Queen of Scots, brought back the
former evils in an aggravated form. For twenty years
the records of the islands are records of murder,
violence, and oppression. The udallers were now a
comparatively feeble folk, but their worst period of
oppression was still to come.

THE STEWART EARLS.

WLJ^ 1565 began the most cruel oppression
which the islands suffered under Scottish
rule. Lord Robert Stewart, a son of
James the Fifth and half-brother of the
Earl of Moray, obtained a feu charter of
Orkney and Shetland. This grant was
illegal in every way. It was not sanc-
tioned by Parliament, and it disposed not only of the
actual property which the crown of Scotland had
acquired in the islands, but of the lands and services
of the udallers or free landowners, which had never
belonged to Norway or Denmark, and could not there-
fore have been acquired by Scotland. In exchange
for the revenues of the Abbey of Holyrood, the new
earl also obtained possession of the lands and revenues
of the Bishopric of Orkney.

To oppress the udallers so as to compel them to
accept feus from him was the unvarying object of
Earl Robert's policy. He aggravated the burdens
of the islanders by making them use weights and
measures of his own devising, and increased their
liabilities to him by a coinage of his own valuation.
He raised the rents of the tenants to the limits of
endurance, made every occasional or special payment

116 The Stewart Earls.

an annual burden, imposed parish taxes as liousehold
taxes, and by pretended decrees of the Thing, or
council, evicted many udallers without a show of
justice. Heavy tolls and duties were laid on all
fishermen and traders who came to the islands, and
secret encouragement was given to pirates, whose
booty was shared by the earl.

The more bitter the complaints of the islanders,
the more grievous became their oppression. To
prevent these complaints reaching the ears of the
authorities in Edinburgh, the earl forbade any one
to cross the firths or ferries without his permission.
It began also to be whispered that Earl Robert was
plotting to sever once more the connection between
Orkney and the Scottish crown. He had made
additions to the old palace at Birsay, and on a stone
over the principal gate he had caused to be inscribed :

DOMINUS ROBERTUS STEWARTUS FILIUS JACOBI QUINTI
REX SCOTORUM HOC OPUS INSTRUXIT that is, " Earl

Robert Stewart, son of James the Fifth, King of the
Scots, erected this building." Those w^ho know a little
Latin will observe that by his using the nominative
case rex, it is Earl Robert himself and not James the
Fifth whom he describes as " King of the Scots."
This was probably a mere mistake in the earl's
Latin, but a much graver meaning was attached to
it by the Scottish King and Parliament when the
whisper of treason somehow reached their ears.

The complaints of the udallers might be unheeded,
but the accusation of treason was a much more
serious matter. The earl was summoned to Edin-
burgh to answer the charges against him. He was
kept for some time a prisoner in Linlithgow Castle,

The Stewart Earls. 117

but the storm quickly blew over. No trial ever took
place. That ordeal Earl Kobert escaped by the help
of his powerful friends and relatives ; and not only so,
but in 1581 he was once more granted the Earldom
of Orkney and Shetland, with extended powers.

When Eobert Stewart died, the islands w^ere granted
to his son, Patrick Stewart, the most cruel oppressor
of all. Skilful in tyranny and extortion as Earl
Robert had been, his son showed still more ability and
ingenuity in his evil courses. The multiplication of
enactments and penalties for the most trivial offences,
confiscation, torture, and judicial murder — these were
the additions Earl Patrick made to the machinery of
oppression used by his father. He had palaces built
for him at Scalloway and at Kirkwall by the same
forced labour that had already reared Earl Robert's
palace in Birsay. But Earl Patrick's career is best
described in the words of Mackenzie : —

" Earl Patrick — still remembered in Orkney tradi-
tion as ' Black Pate ' — was a man of kingly ideas, and
had his lot been cast in Egypt instead of in Orkney,
would have done very well as one of the Pharaohs.
' Heaven is high and the Czar is far away,' says a
Russian proverb. Orkney is far from Holyrood and
farther from London, and the earl did his own pleasure
in his domain, without having the fear of the distant
king before his eyes.

" Most astounding and extraordinary was the system
of tyranny and extortion which he carried on. He
accused one and another of the gentry of the islands
of high treason, and tried them in his own court.
But it was not his object to punish these gentlemen
as traitors against the king. In that case their for-

118 The Stewart Earls.

feited estates would go to the king, which would be
no profit to the earl. The earl was not so simple.
The frightened udallers were glad enough to com-
pound with the formidable earl by making over to
him a portion of their lands to save the remainder
and their own necks.

" The Orkney potentate dealt in exactions of every
description. He extorted taxes and duties. He created
ferries and levied exorbitant tolls on them. He com-
pelled the people to work for him all manner of work.
He forced them to row his boats and man his ships,
to toil in his quarries, to convey stones and lime for
the building of his palace and park walls, and to
perform whatever other kinds of slave-labour he chose
to demand, * without either meat or drink or hire.'

" The Czar though far away sometimes hears at
last. The doings of this tyrant of the isles attracted
the attention of the law. He was seized and put in
ward in Dumbarton Castle. What schemes were in
his proud, fierce head it is difficult to guess. This is
known, that, under his instructions, his son Robert
occupied the castle of Kirkwall with armed men, forti-
fied the cathedral, and stood ready to hold his own.

" As soon as it became known in Edinburgh that
Orkney was in rebellion, the king's Secret Council
dispatched the Earl of Caithness to bring it under.
Two great cannons were wheeled down from Edin-
burgh Castle and shipped at Leith along with a strong-
military force. The expedition landed safely within
a mile and a half of Kirkwall. The great cannons
were pointed against the castle. They shot and got
their answer in shot. The sieoje continued about a
month, when the rebels gave in. Caithness returned

The Stewart Earls. 119

to Edinburgh with Robert Stewart and other prisoners,
and the two great cannons passed up the High Street
in triumph, to the sound of drum and trumpet, with
the keys of Kirkwall Castle hanging at their muzzles.

" Robert Stewart was condemned to death and
hanged at the Market Cross along with five of his
accomplices. The people pitied him greatly, for it
was his father's scheming^ that had led him to de-
struction. His father's execution soon followed. The
ministers who tried to prepare him for death, finding
him so ignorant that he could not say the Lord's
Prayer, asked the Council to delay his execution for
a few days, till he could be better informed. The
request was granted, and then he went his way into
the great darkness."

The rebellion of Earl Patrick led to the abolition
of the Thing, and the ancient laws of Orkney and
Shetland, but there was little change for the better in
the government of the islands. They were assigned
to one nobleman after another, no one having any
interest in their improvement. It was, indeed, not
till the eighteenth century that any very great effort
was made to give them the benefits of good govern-
ment and a chance to regain somewhat of their ancient
prosperity.

Pot Querns and Saddle Quern.

THE EIGHTEENTH AND NINETEENTH
CENTURIES.

URING the long period of oppression by
the Scottish earls, the state of our
islands had been indeed deplorable,
and recovery was slow. The spirit
was crushed out of the people.
Industry was vain when plunder
was sure to follow. Agriculture
could not advance when the alien landlord claimed
all the profit. An Orkney writer of the eighteenth
century gives a sad picture of the condition of the
country in his day: —

" The inhabitants, in general, are very polite,
hospitable, and kind to strangers ; but I am sorry to
say that so little is industry encouraged in our country
that no means can be assigned by which the lower
class of people can get their bread. By reason of
having no employment they must live very wretchedly ;
they become indolent and lazy to the last degree,
insomuch that rather than raise cabbage for their own
use the}'- will steal from others ; and instead of being
at pains to prepare the turf, which they have for the
mere trouble of cutting up and drying, ;yet, rather
than do so, they will steal it from those who are

The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. 121

richer or more industrious than themselves

Every Saturday, which day they are privileged to
beg, a troop of miserable, ragged creatures are seen
going from door to door, almost numerous enough to
plunder the whole town were they to exert them-
selves against it in an hostile manner — at least, if
their valour was in proportion to their distress."

The dawn of a brighter day came slowly, and it is
difficult now to trace the steps by which the prosperity
of the islands was restored. Agriculture remained in
a very primitive state till the nineteenth century had
well begun. An Orkney " township " had a very
different appearance in those days from what we now
see. The farms were not divided from one another ;
each patch of cultivated ground belonged to all the
farmers in the township, who shared it on the " run-
rig " system, each " rig " being worked by a different
owner.

The only pasture was the natural grass of meadow
and hill, and this also was common property. A
" hill-dyke," usually of turf, surrounded the corn-land,
and formed a somewhat indifferent protection against
the flocks of sheep, cattle, horses, and pigs which
found their summer food on the "hill." The names
" Slap " and " Grind," borne by farmhouses in many
districts, remind us of the gateways in these old hill
dykes.

With the corn-land subdivided in this way, and
the pasture-land undivided, there was no inducement
for any farmer to improve his methods of agriculture.
Farm implements were of the rudest kind. The soil
was scratched rather than tilled by means of wooden
ploughs with only one stilt or handle, a model of

122 The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.

which may be seen in the museum in Stromness.
There were no carts ; loads were carried pannier-
fashion on the backs of horses, along the rough tracks
or bridle-paths which served for roads.

Of the old style of farmhouse scarcely a relic now
remains. One entrance usually served the farmer
and his cattle, who lived under the same roof, though
in separate apartments. In the kitchen, or " but-end,"
the fireplace was simply a raised hearth in the centre
of the room, with a low wall or " back " against which
the peat-fire was built. There was no chimney, but
a large opening in the roof allowed the smoke to
escape in a leisurely fashion. Behind the " back "
there was often accommodation for poultry, calves,
and other domestic animals. The better class of
houses had beyond the kitchen a parlour, or " ben-
end," which was used only on great occasions.

Kough and primitive as was their manner of life,
yet at the beginning of last century the Orcadians
had already made a very considerable advance in
prosperity. A writer of the time tells us that the
small farmers had more money among them than
could be found among people of similar station in any
other part of the British Isles.

It was not till the second quarter of the century
that the land was divided up into separate farms, and
modern methods of agriculture began to be employed,
with rotation of crops and improved implements. A
little later the beginning was made of the system
of roads which now spreads in a network over the
islands.

While agriculture was yet in its infancy, the islands
were much benefited by various forms of industry

The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. 123

and occupation which have now mostly fallen into
disuse, as the need for their help has passed away.
One of these industries, introduced towards the end
of the eighteenth century, was the spinning of flax
and the weaving of linen. Flax was largely grown
in the islands at one time, and the dressing, spinning,
and weaving of it was a common occupation.

About the beginning of the nineteenth century
the manufacture of straw -plait was introduced, and
soon took the place of the linen industry. It is said
that over six thousand women and girls were at one
time employed in straw-plaiting. Though the workers
were paid but little, and that usually not in money
but in goods, the straw-plaiting increased considerably
the wealth and the trade of the county.

The manufacture of kelp was introduced early in
the eighteenth century, and gave occupation to many
of the inhabitants. Large profits were made in this
business, not so much, of course, by the actual workers
as by the landlords and other agents who exported
the kelp. At one time, indeed, it seemed as if the
attention given to this industry was to prove a
hindrance to the advance of agriculture, which is the
only foundation of true prosperity in these islands ;
and when other substances began to take the place
of kelp, the decline of this trade was really a benefit
to the islands.

Fishing has always been an important industry in
Orkney, but it was not till near the middle of the
nineteenth century that the improvements in boats
and in gear made the fisheries a really valuable asset
to the islanders. Fishing, however, cannot be called
one of those temporary industries which we men-

124 The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.

tioned. The herring fishery and the white fishing,
as well as other branches of this industry, have
continued to increase, and next to agriculture, fish-
ing is the great natural source of wealth for the
people.

During the centuries now under our notice, Orkney
had a closer connection with the seafaring life than
it has to-day. When all trade was carried on by
sailing ships, and when westerly winds were quite as
common as they now are, vessels passing through
the Pentland Firth for America or elsewhere found
Stromness a convenient port of call, and its harbour
was often crowded with shipping. This was especially
the case during the French wars of the eighteenth
century, when the English Channel was avoided by
shipping as being too near the enemy's shores. Fleets
of trading ships used to gather at Stromness while
waiting a convoy of men-of-war to accompany them
across the Atlantic.

An interesting relic of those busy times in Strom-
ness is the old Warehouse and Warehouse Pier at
the north end of that town. This store was built
about the middle of the eighteenth century for the
convenience of the rice ships from America, as being
the safest place for them to discharge their cargoes.
Before the end of the century, however, the Strom-
ness Warehouse was deserted in favour of Cowes in
the Isle of Wight. A writer of the time makes out
a strong case in favour of Stromness and against the
Eno-lish Channel, but the fact that Cowes is nearer to
London seems to have settled the matter in favour of
that port.

During these prolonged naval wars, it is said that

The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. 12D

as many as twelve thousand Orkneymen served in
the navy. Many of them went as volunteers, but
probably most of them served against their will, as the
pressgang was very active among the islands. Many
a young sailor who began his voyage on a peaceful
trader was soon transferred to one of His Majesty's
ships. Traditions of those troublous times are still
preserved among many families in the islands. Hun-
dreds of these men were never heard of again, for
those were not the days of telegraphs and war cor-
respondents. The years passed, and the son or the
brother did not return, but when or how he fell his
friends never knew. It was a heavy war-tax the
islands paid ; the full extent of it has never been
disclosed.

About 1740 the ships of the Hudson's Bay Com-
pany began to visit the islands, not only to wait for
a wind to start them on their annual voyage, but to
engage labourers and tradesmen to carry on the fur
trade among the Indians of the west and north of
Canada. The connection thus begun is not yet quite
extinct, but in the earlier part of the nineteenth cen-
tury there was a constant stream of young men
flowing to the Far West. At one time from fifty
to a hundred men left Stromness for Hudson Bay
every summer. Some remained as pioneers and col-
onists ; some returned after a sojourn of five years
or more, with a tidy sum of money to start them
as farmers or tradesmen at home. Many of them
who settled in the Great Lone Land rose to high
positions in the Company's service. The most famous
of this band of empire-builders was Dr. John Rae,
the discoverer of the fate of the ill-starred Franklin

126 The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.

Expedition, and a noted Arctic explorer, whose
monument may be seen in the nave of St. Magnus
Cathedral.

The Company then ruled over the greater portion
of what is now the Dominion of Canada. The names
of Fort York, Moose Factory, and Red River were as
familiar to the Orkney boys of those days as Edin-
burgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen are to us to-day. But
Canada changed even more than Orkney during the
latter part of the nineteenth century, and the great
Hudson's Bay Company have now handed over their
vast territories to the rule of the Dominion. The
fur trade still exists in the North- West, and there are
Orkneymen still in the employment of the Company ;
but the days have gone by when this was one of
the chief industries of the wander-loving sons of our
islands.

After the " Nor'- Wast," as the Hudson Bay service
was called, the " Straits " had the next claim on our
youth. The Davis Strait whale-iishing fleet made
an annual visit to our islands to complete their
crews. This was in the spring or " vore," when
the crops w^ere in the ground, and many men, both
3^oung and middle-aged, looked to the annual whaling
trip to the north as a means of gain, just as their
Norse ancestors did to the annual " vore- viking " raid
on the richer shores of the South. This also has
passed away ; the harpoon and whale-lance are rarely
seen in the islands ; whales and whaling fleet alike
have almost become extinct. But while agriculture
was still in its infancy in Orkney, the " Straits " gave
much-needed employment and modest gains to many
of our hardy forefathers.

The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. 127

The general tendency of life in Orkney has been
away from dependence upon the sea for a living,
and towards agriculture and the trade and commerce
which it brings with it. In its methods of farming
and in its general prosperity the county now com-
pares well with any other part of the kingdom. But
most of this progress has been made during the last
half century or so.

It was in 1833 that the Aberdeen, Leith, and
Clyde Shipping Company, now the North of Scotland
and Orkney and Shetland Navigation Company, first
decided to send one of their steamers — the Velocity
— to call at Kirkwall. The call was made once a
fortnight, and only during the months of June, July,
and August. The mails were then carried across the
Pentland Firth in a small boat. The growth in traffic
since that time is indicated by the fact that the trade
and commerce of the islands now requires the weekly
call of two steamers at Kirkwall and three at Strom-
ness, with a daily mail steamer to both towns, in addi-
tion to numerous occasional trips of other steamers
and sailing vessels, especially during the fishing season,
while four smaller steamers maintain communication
between the various islands.

The Orkney farmer still has a somewhat niggardly
soil and a stormy climate to contend with. His acres
are few, and his boys will often turn to richer lands
to seek their fortune. But life in these islands to-day
is easy and cdmfortable compared with what it was
during any of the ten centuries whose history we
have passed in brief review.

The boys and girls who aim at seeking wealth and
fame in other lands, though by other means than

128 The Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.

those of their Viking ancestors, may now set forth
on their voyage as well equipped by education and
otherwise as the youth of any country in the world.
Those who remain at home will still find a worthy
task in carrying on the improvement of the home-
land, as their fathers have done ; for whatever stage
of progress we ma}^ attain, it is never merely an end,
but also a beginning.

Old-fashio-fted Fireplace.

Part II. — The Isles and the Folk.

A SURVEY OF THE ISLANDS.
On Wideford Hill.

'HERE is no better view-point
from which to make a general
survey of the Orcadian Archi-
pelago than Wideford Hill. It is
less than half the height of the
Ward Hill of Hoy, but it is at
once more central and more easily
accessible. The Ward Hill of Orphir exceeds it in
height by nearly one hundred and fifty feet, and
affords a much finer view to the westward ; but
Wideford Hill is more isolated from other hills, and
from its summit we can obtain a better general out-
look over the islands.

Wideford Hill rises to a height of seven hundred
and forty feet, and, standing within two miles of Kirk-
wall, it may be easily approached either from the
main Stromness road over the Ayre, or from the old
road above the site of the Lammas market. If we
choose the right kind of day, when a cool northerly
breeze gives us a horizon free from haze, and when

(1,384) 9

130 A Survey of the Islands.

thin gray clouds veil the sun only at intervals, we
shall see from Wideford a panorama which surpasses
in loveliness and in human interest that seen from
many a mountain top.

The charm of Orkney scenery lies in its colour
rather than its form, in its luminous distances rather
than its immediate foreground, in its restfulness
rather than its grandeur. The landscape does not
overwhelm the beholder with a sense of his puny
insignificance, as great mountains are apt to do ; it
wins his love by suggestions of peace and of home.

But let us look around and note what we see.
Far to the southward lies the silvery streak of the
Pentland Firth, very innocent now in its summer
calm. Beyond it stretch the low shores of Caithness ;
and in the blue distance we see Morven and the
mountains of Sutherland, the " southern land " of the
Norsemen. Nearer is the green expanse of South
Ronaldsay, much foreshortened to the view, with the
lighthouse towers of the Pentland Skerries showing
beyond, and the island of Burray at its nearer end.
To the right, over Scapa Flow, rises the long brown
ridge of Hoy, separated by streaks of shimmering
sea from Flotta, Fara, Cava, and its other neighbours.
Very stern and solemn look its heath-clad heights as
the passing shadows fall across them.

The whole of the East Mainland lies at our feet —
Deerness, bright and sunny, with the Moul Head
stretching boldly out to sea ; nearer is St. Andrews,
and Holm, half hidden by the ridge of high ground in
the north of that parish ; and, nearer still, St. Ola,
deeply cut into by the Bays of Kirkwall and Scapa,
which look as if they only awaited the next spring

Round about Kirkivall.

132 A Survey of the Islands.

tide to join hands across tlie narrow isthmus, the
Peerie Sea lying ready to do its part.

Kirkwall, the " Kirk Voe " of the Norsemen, is more
worthy of its name to-daj^ than when the little church
of St. Olaf was the chief object in the landscape.
Approach it how we may, the great Cathedral of St.
Magnus arrests our attention. Seen from Wideford
Hill the tower does not break the skyline, as it does
from the sea ; yet the mass of sombre reddish masonry
asserts itself, and dominates the pearl-gray cluster of
walls and roofs that spreads around, as it has done for
nearly eight hundred years.

" Tame " and " uninteresting " are the words often
used to describe the appearance of our island capital.
It does not seem so to-day. As the eye sweeps down
over the purple shoulder of the hill to the green
fields below, and passes over the silver gleam of the
water with broken reflections of tower and gable
beyond, it rests upon a picture filled with many
charms of line, mass, and colour, from which the deep
cool green of tree and shrub is not wholly wanting.
Open to the north and the south by the " Viking
path " of the sea, and joined to the east and the west
by more modern paths, the thin white lines of
curving roadway, Kirkwall shows itself the natural
focus of our island commerce and social life, and
the centre of a wide and fair landscape.

Northward and westward next we turn our view.
Kirkwall Bay opens out into the " Wide Fiord," which
doubtless gave our hill its name, and westward into
the " Aurrida Fiord," or Sea-trout Firth, which first
gave its name to the parish of Firth, and then re-
ceived in exchange its present name, the Bay of

A Survey of the Islands. 133

Firth. Its shores are low and well cultivated, but
to the north rises the dark brown ridge formed by
the hills of Firth and of Kendall, which hide from
our view most of the parish of Evie and parts of
Harray and Birsay.

To the left of this ridge, through the central valley
of Firth and Stenness, a charming vista opens out.
A rich and fertile sweep of low ground forms the
basin of the great lochs, and on the long peninsula
, between them we can distinguish the Standing Stones
rising as needle points against the blue expanse of the
Loch of Stenness. The green mound of Maeshowe,
too, is clearly visible. Far away, over the cultivated
slopes of Sandwick, we see the soft shimmer of the
Atlantic, and to the northward the undulating sky-
line of the Birsay Hills.

Due west from where we stand the view is shut
in by the long ridge of the Keelylang Hills and the
bold outline of the Ward Hill of Orphir, and the
fairest part of the West Mainland, Stromness, with
its bays and islets, is beyond our ken. To enjoy
a view of these we must take our stand upon the
Ward Hill itself, but this will come into the pro-
gramme of another day.

Of the island-studded sea to the north and east
we have not yet spoken. We can hardly disentangle
the maze of sounds and bays, of holms and pro-
montories, except by the aid of a map, and if we
are wise we shall have one in our pocket. With
this before us the maze becomes clear. The bold
hills of Eousay stand clear of the Mainland to the
north, with the lower islands of Gairsay, Wyre or Yeira,
and Egilsay near at hand. Westray is all but hidden,

134 A Survey of the Islands.

but the blue ridge of Eday stands boldly forth, shut-
ting out from view the greater portion of Sanday
and North Ronaldsay. The tall lighthouse pillar on
the Start, however, is clearly seen.

Close to Kirkwall Bay, and protecting it from the
eastern sea, lies the fertile island of Shapinsay, with
Balfour Castle standing in clear view among its
gardens. Beyond we see the bold outline of Stronsay,
and to the south of it Auskerry and its lighthouse.

Now we let our eye rest on the horizon, a sharj)
and clear line where we can trace the smoke of
trawlers and other craft which are themselves hidden
by the great curve of the ocean plain. There, right
over Balfour Castle, something catches our eye. It
might be the smoke of a passing steamer, but it does
not change its form as we look ; it stands clear and
sharp, a tiny blue pyramid showing over the horizon.
There is only one thing it can be — the Fair Isle,
distant some sixty miles from where we stand ! Only
on rare occasions is this lonely sea-girt rock so free
from cloud and mist that its top is thus to be dis-
tinguished. Yet if we know where to look for it,
we may occasionally see it as we do to-day ; and it
is useful to remember that from Wideford Hill its
bearing is directly over Balfour Castle.

Among the North Isles.

A glance at the map of Orkney will show that
most of the important islands lie north of the Main-
land. The term " North Isles," however, is generally
used to mean only the more, distant of these — Stron-
say, Eday, Sanday, North Ronaldsay, and Westray,

A Survey of the Islands. 135

with the smaller islands adjacent to them. These
can be visited by steamer from Kirkwall in one
day, with the exception of North Ronaldsay ; and
at the same time a good view can be obtained of
the nearer islands — Shapinsay and Rousay, with the
smaller group of Egilsay, Wyre, and Gairsay. North
Ronaldsay may also be seen on the far north-eastern
horizon. -. !

Leaving Kirkwall pier in the early morning, we
sail northwards out of the bay, when the String
opens on our right, and Shapinsay is close at hand.
There, sheltered by HelHar Holm, we notice the bay
of Ell wick, where, in 1263, King Haco moored his
hundred ships when on that ill-starred expedition
which ended at Largs. West of the bay stands
Balfour Castle, the finest specimen of modern domestic
architecture in the islands, surrounded by its noted
gardens.

The sea to the west of Shapinsay is dotted with
shoals and skerries ; but as we pass Gairsay on the
left and sail round Gait Ness, the north-western
point of Shapinsay, we find open water before us,
and steer north-east towards Eday, passing the Green
Holms on our way.

Eda}^, the first island at which we call, is hilly
and heath-clad, with abundance of peat. Ever since
the days of Torf Einar, no doubt, it has yielded
a supply of peat for such unprovided islands as
Sanday, up to modern times when coal has come
into more general use. Even yet the peat industry
is considerable, and Eday peats have been recently
seen in use for drying malt in a distillery near
Edinburgh. The most interesting part of Eday,

^ 5ni

^l#3^i

,^H%

JcvV^^"

■:^r4 :!'

0.^

^^^^

138 A Survey of the Islands.

however, is the north end of the island, where our
steamer will call later in the day.

From Eday we cross to Stronsay, keeping to the
north of that island, and then turning southwards
to the village of Whitehall in Papa Sound, protected
on the north-east by the small island of Papa Stron-
say. This sheltered roadstead so near the open
eastern sea has long been an important centre of
the herring fishery. About the middle of last century
as many as four hundred Orkney boats and many
from the Scottish mainland found anchorage in Papa
Sound. In modern times Stronsay has again risen
in importance as a fishing station.

Stronsay is one of the best agricultural districts
in Orkney, and is noted for the size and the ex-
cellence of its farms. Near Lamb Head, in the
extreme south-east of Stronsay, are the remains of
a very extensive pier, erected before the time of the
Norsemen.

Leaving Whitehall pier, we next sail due north
across Sanday Sound to Kettletoft Bay in Sanday.
This bay and that of Otterswick in the north afford
safe anchorage ; but the low, flat island, with its
numerous projecting points and skerries, presents
many dangers to navigation. As early as 1529 a
lighthouse was erected on the extreme eastern point
of the island, and was called the Star, from which,
it is said, the headland derived its name, Start Point.
Long after that time, however, the island was noted for
the number of shipwrecks which occurred on its shores.

Sanday is emphatically the " Sand Island." Its
soil is sandy and generally fertile, and its surface
is low and flat. Only in the south-west is there

Orkney Villages. — /.

1. St. Margaret's Hope, South Eonaldsay. 2. Pierowall, AVestray.

8. Whitehall, Stronsay. 4. Finstown, Firth.

140 A Survey of the Islands.

any rising ground, where the highest point in the island
reaches a height of a little over two hundred feet.

From Kettletoft pier our course is now south-west,
until we double Spur Ness, the most southerly point
of Sanday ; then turning northwards, we make for
Calf Sound, at the north end of Eday. This sheltered
channel, between Eday and the Calf of Eday, is
memorable as the scene of the capture of the pirate
Gowin 1725.

Gow, or Smith, was a native of Stromness, where
" Gow's Garden," a name given to a patch of ground
on the east side of the harbour, afterwards occupied
by a shipbuilding yard, seems to mark the site of his
father's house. The name Gow, however, which is
the Gaelic equivalent of Smith, indicates a Scottish
rather than an Orcadian descent. In 1724 Gow was
sailing as second mate on board the George, an Eng-
lish vessel of two hundred tons, mounting eighteen
guns, and trading on the Barbary coast. He and
several others of the crew mutinied, murdered the
captain, and started on what proved to be a very
brief career of piracy.

After a few months' cruising, Gow carried his
ship, now named the Revenge, into Stromness to
refit ; but as he soon made the place too hot for
safety, he put to sea in February 1725. Having
sailed north round Westray, he turned south towards
Eday, and in beating through Calf Sound ran his
ship aground on the Calf, opposite Carrick House,
then occupied by Mr. James Fea of Clestran. To
him Gow applied for help to get his ship off the
rocks ; but the opportunity was too good to be missed,
and Fea by various stratagems succeeded in making

A Survey of the Islands.

Ul

prisoners of Gow and his crew. They were handed
over to the authorities, and afterwards suffered the
penalty of their crimes in London.

Nearly a century later, in 1814, Sir Walter Scott
made his memorable visit to Orkney and Shetland,
and the legends which he collected regarding Gow
formed a centre round which he wove his well-known
story, " The Pirate."

# i i I"' p ^Xr:;^/^

Noltland Castle.

Carrick was at one time the site of a thriving manu-
facture of salt, but that too is now a tale of the past.

On leaving Carrick our steamer passes out of
Calf Sound between the Eed Head on the west and
the Grey Head on the east, so named from the colour
of their sandstone cliffs. The stone of the former
has been much in favour for building purposes, as
St. Magnus Cathedral can testify, and has on occa-
sion found its way as far south as London.

A north-westerly course now brings us to Pierowall

142

A Survey of the Islands.

^

in Westray, our last port of call. The long, low island
guarding it on the north-east, fertile and well cultivated,

is Papa
(Westray.
Towards its
south end is
a small lake,
on a holm in
which are the
ruins of a
chapel dedi-
cated to St.
Tredwall, a
place of great
sanctity in
former days,
and a special
shrine for
such pilgrims
as suffered
from sore
eyes. Long
told that the

Noup Head Lighthouse.

the Reformation, indeed, we are

after

minister of the island had much difficulty in pre-
venting his flock from resorting thither to pay their
devotions to the saint before assembling in the church.
The chief point of interest in Westray is Noltland
Castle, now roofless indeed, but scarcely yet a ruin.
It was built early in the fifteenth century by Bishop
Tulloch, and afterwards passed into the hands of
Sir Gilbert Balfour, Master of the Household to
Mary Queen of Scots. After the escape of the
unfortunate queen from Lochleven Castle, he was

A Survey of the Islands.

143

r w: n:

^fe^;®iM(^*>ii«»':

'^sr^

ordered to prepare Noltland for her reception. Had
the ill-fated Mary turned northwards instead of
southwards
when the day
went against
her at Lang-
side, and had
she sought
shelter among
these northern
islands instead
of trusting to
the tender
mercies of her
cousin and
rival, Queen
Elizabeth, what

, . North Ronaldsay Lighthouse.

a r omant 1 c

chapter might have been added to the history of

Orkney !

Westray contains much good arable land, and
supports a large population. On the west side
the scenery is bold and romantic ; and from Fitty
Hill, which is over five hundred and fifty feet in
height, the view extends to Foula in Shetland and
the Fair Isle. The cliffs facing the Atlantic are lofty
and picturesque. About a mile south of Noup Head,
the western extremity of the island, is the Gentle-
men's Cave, where five Orcadian adherents of " Prince
Charlie " are said to have found shelter for several
months after the " 'Forty-five."

From Fitty Hill we may obtain a distant view of
North Ronaldsay, the most northerly and perhaps the

144 A Survey of the Islands.

most verdant island of the group. Separated from
its nearest neighbour, Sanday, by the wild and stormy
North Ronaldsay Firth, the crossing of which in
the usual open boat is often dangerous, even when
possible, this island impresses the visitor as being
very much cut off from the world. But in such
matters all depends upon comparison, and doubtless
there are many who regard the whole of our islands
as similarly remote and inaccessible.

A stone dyke surrounds the island of North Ronald-
say, outside which a number of native sheep pick up
a living on the " banks " and even in the " ebb." On
the most northerly point, near Dennis Head, stands
one of the finest of our lighthouses ; for North
Ronaldsay, like Sanday, has been the scene of many
a shipwreck.

Our return from Westray to Kirkwall is made
direct, and we now keep to the west of Eday, passing
Faray and its Holm, and having the heath-clad hills
of Rousay clear in view to the westward. Rousay
far surpasses the other islands of the northern group
in its hill and cliff scenery, its highest elevation
reaching eight hundred and twenty feet, and its
western shore presenting many romantic effects in
stack and cave. Among its other attractive features
are the Loch of Wasbister, in the north ; the Burn
of Westness and Westness House, overlooking the
sacred isle of Eynhallow and the tumultuous Roost
of Burgar ; and the modern mansion of Trumbland,
looking out on the calm sound and the green island
of Veira or Wyre.

Nearer our course, however, lies the long, low
stretch of Egilsay, the " Church Island " of the

A Survey of the Islands.

145

Norsemen, where the saintly Earl Magnus was done
to death. The present ruined church, with its far-
seen round tower, though of later date, doubtless
occupies the site of that earlier church which was
the scene of his murder.

Wyre, too, soon opens out to view, with its ruined
chapel, and the mound which marks the traditional site
of " Cubbie Roo's Castle," the home of the once formid-
able Kolbein Hruga, whose name is even yet used to
terrify into good behaviour some obstreperous young-
ster, in the awful threat, " Cubbie Roo'll get thee ! "

U»^''

Westness, Eynhallow, and Costa Head.

Gairsay, with its rounded hill over three hundred
feet high, next claims our attention, and the name of
Sweyn Holm, lying off its eastern shore, recalls to us
Sweyn Asleifson and the great drinking-hall which he
built on the island when he made it his winter home ;
the summer home of the stout old Viking was on
board his long-ship. But now the tower of St. Magnus
rising ahead reminds us that our day's sail is at an end,
and we are shortly alongside Kirkwall pier once more.

(1,384) 10

146

A Survey of the Islands.

Stromness Harlour.

Among the South Isles.

For a visit to the South Isles of Orkney, Stromness
is our best starting-point. It is the natural centre
of communication for this group — or rather for the
western division of the group, for South Konaldsay
and Burray may be visited equally well from Kirk-
wall by way of Scapa Bay. The small steamer
which makes the regular round of the islands will
serve us for the beginning of our tour, but we
must soon branch off from the ordinary route if we
are to see much of interest.

The green island of Graemsay, with its beach of
gleaming white sand, looks very attractive as we
sail out of Stromness harbour. Its chief attraction
to visitors is the lofty tower of the East Lighthouse,
which serves, along with the lower West Lighthouse,

A Survey of the Islands. 147

Graemsay East Lighthouse.

to guide ships through the swift tideway of Hoy
Sound. The official name, indeed, for these lights
is not Graemsay, but Hoy.

Graemsa}^ is separated from Ho}^ by Burra Sound,
and here we shall leave our steamer, landing at
Linksness, the best starting-point for the long walk
and climb which we have before us. Hoy is next
to the Mainland in size, but little of its surface is
cultivated, and roads are few and far between. So
we strike westward, and, leaving cultivation behind,
make for the Meadow of the Kame, keeping the Ward
Hill and its neighbour the Cuilags on our left. There
is a famous echo here, which we may stop to test
before beginnino; the climb to the Kame itself — a lono-
ridge some twelve hundred feet high, which runs from
the Cuilags to the sheer precipice on the north.

The coast-line we now reach is one of the loftiest
in the British Isles, rising at St. John's Head to a
perpendicular height of 1,140 feet. With due care

148 A Survey of the Islands.

we may approach the edge and look down this fear-
ful and giddy height, but it is not a place for foolhardy
daring. The view of this stupendous cliff, with the
white surges breaking a thousand feet below in a
slow and strangely noiseless movement, and the sea-
gulls flitting like midges in their mazy dance mid-
way between us and the blue water, is something
which cannot be described and cannot be forgotten.

Beyond St. John's Head the ground falls to half
the height or less, and a couple of miles brings us
to the far-famed Old Man of Hoy. This wonder-
ful pillar stands well out from the cliff, on a ledge
of rock which connects with the land near sea-level.
The height of the pillar is four hundred and fifty
feet; that of the cliff on which we stand is about
fifty feet less. Tradition tells us that the Old Man
of Hoy has suffered considerably from the battering
of wdnd and wave even within recent times. It
is said that he formerly stood on tw^o legs, but
that many years ago part of the divided base fell
before the Atlantic breakers, and left him standing
on one leg, as we now see him. Doubtless time and
the weather will one day lay him low^, but in the
meantime he looks fairly solid and durable.

Another mile or more and we reach Rora Head,
the most westerly point of Orkney, and turn south-
eastward towards Eackwick Bay, and now one of
the finest views in all the islands meets our gaze.
Beyond the deep glen at our feet stretches the great
western sea-wall, gleaming red in the sunshine. In
the bay below us the rollers are breaking in cease-
less foam over a strip of shining sand and gravel.
The little township of Rackwick is a patchwork of

150 A Survey of the Islands.

green and gold, contrasting strangely with the dark
glen and the towering hills behind.

The glen itself, we find as we make the descent
into it, is a bit of true highland scenery — the only
bit, indeed, which Orkney has to show. Its rugged,
lonely grandeur is unique in these islands. Heather
and bracken, wild rose a.nd honeysuckle, juniper,
dwarf birch, and willow mingle in such luxuriance
as to suggest a more favoured latitude. The glen of
Berriedale, which opens out of the main valley to the
west, is sometimes called the " Garden of Orkney," but
it is a garden of nature's own.

Hoy is for the most part of a sterner aspect,
as we shall quickly find if we cross the valley
and dare to attack the Ward Hill. The only risk
we shall run in doino- so will be that of stiff* limbs
for several days to come, unless, indeed, a sudden
descent of cloud or mist should find us unprovided
with a guide who knows the "lay of the land."
The sturdy luxuriance of the heather is likely to be
our chief difficulty in the climb.

Standing at last on the summit of the Ward Hill,
we find ourselves at a height of 1,564 feet above the
sea, on a somewhat bare and stony plateau, and not
far from the highest point there is, curiously enough,
an excellent spring of water. A very clear day is
necessary if we are to enjoy the sight of all that this
elevation commands. We shall then see the whole
archipelago spread out before us as on a map — a
marvellous panorama of sea and land. Even the
Fair Isle shows its conical head above the north-
eastern horizon. The north coast of Scotland stretches
out westward to Cape Wrath, and in the blue distance

A Survey of the Islands. 151

to the southwards many a peak of the Northern High-
lands can be distinguished.

If we descend the hill on its southern slope, we shall
find a short though a steep way to the next point
of interest in Hoy — the Dwarfie Stone. The descrip-
tion of this curious relic of the industry of some un-
known workman has been well given by Hugh Miller,
whose name may still be read carved on its bare inte-
rior, while the legendary interest may best be gathered
from Sir Walter Scott in his notes to " The Pirate."

South of the valley in which the Dwarfie Stone
lies, the ground rises to a long stretch of moorland,
broken only by burns and lochs, till it dips down
to the fringe of low, cultivated ground round Long-
hope, in the parish of Walls. This part of the
island, however, is too distant to be included in our
day's excursion, and may be visited direct by steamer
from Stromness some other day.

Longhope, as we shall then see, is a sheltered bay
nearly four miles long and about one mile in average
width, and forms a magnificent natural harbour.
Before the days of steam as many as a hundred and
fifty vessels might be seen at anchor here, sheltered
from the westerly gales which barred their passage
through the Pentland Firth. The martello towers
on either side of the entrance remind us of a time
when storms were not the only danger to our ship-
ping. Protection of a kind more necessary to-day
is afforded by the strong revolving light on Cantick
Head, and on occasion by the Longhope lifeboat, the
heroism of whose hardy crew has often shown itself in
deeds of noble daring such as no sea-roving Viking
of the ancient days could have surpassed.

152 A Survey of the Islands.

At the western extremity of Longhope stands the
mansion house of Melsetter, with its extensive gar-
dens. On the farther side of the bay is South Walls,
a peninsula which is literally " almost an island," as
the waters of Aith Hope almost meet those of Long-
hope across a narrow " aith " or isthmus.

Opposite the entrance to Longhope, whence we start
on our return journey to Stromness, we pass the island
of Flotta, the " flat island " of the Norsemen, thriving
and well cultivated, especially towards the east, where
it curves round Pan Hope. To the south of it lies
the green island of Switha, to the north-east the tiny
Calf of Flotta, and to the north-west, off Mill Bay,
the island of Faray. Farther north, and close to the
shore of Hoy, lies Risa, or Eisa Little, a favourite
nesting -place of many of our sea-birds. The last
island we notice on our homeward sail is Cava,
a couple of miles > eastward of which we see the
beacon which marks a skerry known as the Barrel
of Butter.

The eastern group of the South Isles is more
closely connected with the East Mainland, being
divided from Holm by Holm Sound, where lie the
two green islets of Lamb Holm and Glims Holm.
Immediately to the south is Burray, the Borgarey
of the Norsemen, so called, doubtless, from the two
brochs or horgs whose ruins still exist in the north
of the island. To the west of Burray lies the peat-
covered islet of Hunda.

South of Burray, across the narrow channel of
Water Sound, lies the large and populous island of
South Ronaldsay. At the head of the little bay of
the same name stands the neat and thriving village

A Survey of the Islands. 153

— almost a town — of St. Margaret's Hope, pleasantly
situated among its fertile gardens and fields, and
with a substantial pier to accommodate its increasing
traffic.

Westward from " The Hope " lies Hoxa, a penin-
sula cut off by Wide wall Bay on the south. On
the narrow isthmus or " aith " stands a green mound,
the " haug," or howe, from which the name of Haugs-
eith or Hoxa is derived. On the shores of Wide-
wall Bay at low water we may see the submerged
peat-moss and decaying remains of large trees which
mark a bygone stage in the climate of the islands,
and likewise tell of gradual subsidence of the land.

From south to north. South Ronaldsay measures
about seven miles. The surface is well cultivated, and
the highest point, the Ward Hill, is only some three
hundred and sixty feet high. The bay of Burwick,
in the south-west corner of the island, was formerly
the landing-place for the south mails, which were
carried across the Pentland Firth in an open boat.
Some of the rock scenery in the southern part is
very fine, especially " The Gloup," near Halcro Head,
an open pit near the shore into wdiich the sea enters
by a subterranean channel.

To the south-west we see the lonely, storm-swept
island of Swona with its half-dozen or so of houses,
and to the south rise the twin lighthouse towers on
the Pentland Skerries, only one of which is now used
as a light. Here we reach the southern extremity
of the county, some forty miles in a straight line
from North Ronaldsay, the extreme northern point.

ROUND THE MAINLAND.
First Day.

HE best way to see the Mainland,
and the only way to appreciate
its extent and the variety of its
scenery, is to make use of the
excellent roads by which it is
now traversed and encircled. On
this tour the bicycle will be our
best conveyance; and if we can secure the company
of a congenial friend, we may spend a few days very
pleasantly and profitably on a ride round the Main-
land.

We shall begin with the East Mainland. Leaving
Kirkwall by the Deerness road, we shortly afterwards
find ourselves skimming down the long brae of Wide-
ford — not Wideford Hill, but the farm of Wideford,
about two miles south-east of the town. On our left
is the wide expanse of Inganess Bay, with its beach
of sand and shingle, where we can recall seeing on
one memorable occasion a school of whales stranded
after a great whale hunt : that was in our early
school days, now rapidly becoming a part of the
time known as " long ago."

We next pass the long, low peninsula of Tanker-

Orkney Villages. — //.

1. St. Mary's, Holm. 2. Orphir. 3. Kettletoft, Sanday. 4. Finstown.

5. Balfour Village, Shapinsay. 6. Evie.

156 Round the Mainland.

ness, which lies between Inganess Bay and Deer
Sound. On its south side, between the loch and
the shore, stands the Hall of Tankerness, its posi-
tion marked out by one of those rare patches of
dark green which indicate that trees may still be
made to grow in Orkney under intelligent fostering
care. The cliffs near Rerwick Head are worth a
visit. There are several caves, one of which, tradition
affirms, gave refuge for weeks to one of the Cove-
nanters who were shipwrecked at Deerness in 1679.

After passing through the parish of St. Andrews,
we reach that of Deerness. Deerness is literally a pen-
insula— very nearly an island indeed. The isthmus
which joins it to the Mainland is not only narrow
but low and sandy, and in former days mariners
approaching from the south sometimes overlooked its
existence when making for shelter, and came to grief
accordingly. On this narrow neck of land is found
an ancient mound or hang, which bears the name of
Dingishowe.

Deerness is on the whole flat, the highest point
in the peninsula, the Ward, being only 285 feet above
the sea. Yet the view from the road, which crosses
the centre of the parish, is very extensive. To the
south wx notice the island of Copinsay, formerly
much frequented for gathering sea-birds' eggs, and
its " Horse," a steep black rock rising high out of
the water.

If time permits, it will be worth our while to
cycle to Sandside, and thence walk along the cliffs to
the Moul Head. The scenery here is fine, and we
shall find the Broch, with its ancient ruined chapel,
specially interesting. A church existed here before

Round the Mainland. 157

the Norse period, and was doubtless the cause of the
name Deir-ness, or the ness of the Culdee priests, being
given to the district. Not far distant we see another
object which recalls priestly memories — a gray stone
pillar erected to commemorate the shipwreck by
which two hundred Covenanters lost their lives when
on their way to be sold as slaves in the American
Colonies or " Plantations."

The story is a dark and tragic one. There is some
reason to believe that the shipwreck was not entirely
an accident ; it is said that the ship was not even
provisioned for so long a voyage, and that the fate
designed for the unhappy prisoners was not slavery
but death by shipwreck whenever circumstances
favourable for such an " accident " should arise.

On returning to the St. Andrews road we may
strike off towards the south and make our way
homewards through the parish of Holm. The most
fertile part of this parish lies in a broad valley sloping
towards the south, where the crops ripen early. As
we descend into this valley, the mellow light of an
autumn afternoon reveals to us a view of rare
sweetness and charm.

Amid the river-like tidal stream of Holm Sound
lie the green islets of Glims Holm and Lamb Holm
or Laman, with Burray and the darker Hunda, and
the imposing stretch of South Eonaldsay beyond.
To the westward. Hoy rises in deep-blue shadow,
reflected in the still surface of Scapa Flow. Over
the gleam of the Pentland Firth we see the flat shores
of Caithness, while the more distant peaks of the
Sutherland mountains rise sharp and clear above the
horizon.

158 Round the Mainland.

But there are a few miles of road yet to cover,
so we hold on our way towards the sea-shore, where
the steep -gabled mansion of Graemeshall stands
beside its prett}^ reed-fringed loch. A mile beyond
lies the village of St. Mary's, with its pier and its
line of cottages stretching along the beach ; and after
taking a passing glance at this well-known fishing-
station, we turn our faces northwards. We have a
long hill}^ ride in front of us here, and by the time we
reach the end of it our interest in the charming views
is not so keen as it was. Then comes the welcome
change of gradient ; we spin down the " Distillery
Brae," and soon our circuit of the East Mainland is
completed.

Second Day.

Our second day's circuit will take us round the
central part of the Mainland, which is divided from
the East Mainland by the isthmus of Scapa, and from
the larger mass of the West Mainland by the lochs of
Stenness and Harray and the wide isthmus between
the latter and the Bay of Firth.

We leave Kirkwall by the " Head of the Town "
and keep to the old Scapa road for about a mile,
when we turn sharp to the right and soon begin
the long ascent of nearly three hundred feet to
Greenigo. This is followed by a corresponding dip
down to the valley of Kirbuster, whose loch lies on
our right ; but as fishing is not our programme at
present we keep to the road as it ascends once more,
and soon find ourselves entering upon the broad
fertile slope which forms the most thickly inhabited
part of the parish of Orphir.

Round the Mainland.

159

Westward we see the road stretching across this
well-cultivated district, dotted with houses large and
small, which gather here and there in groups and
clusters almost ranking as villages. Time does not press,
and we are out for the purpose of seeing all we can,
so we decide to leave the main road here and take a
by-road to the right which skirts the east side of the
Ward Hill. It is fairly steep, and the riding cannot

be called good, but it has the advantage of bringing
us within a mile of the Ward Hill itself, the top of
which we shall find a pleasant halting-place.

Leaving our bicycles by the roadside, we face a
pretty stiff climb through luxuriant heather and
bracken, and soon find ourselves on the highest of
a group of hill- tops, 880 feet above the sea. If we
are favoured with a clear atmosphere, the scene before
us will amply repay the labour of our ascent.

160 Round the Mainland.

The view from the Ward Hill is supplementary
to that from Wideford Hill. Parts of the landscape
to the east and north are shut out by Wideford Hill
itself, by the long Keelylang ridge, and by the broad-
backed mass between Harray and Evie. To the
south the scene is somewhat similar to that seen
from Wideford Hill ; to the westward, however, the
panorama now before us is unique.

Ireland, or Ayre-land, as it once was, sloping gently
downwards to its bay, lies at our feet, a patchwork
of farms and fields in varying tints of green and
yellow and brown. Beyond it, the picturesque
" western capital," Stromness, fringes its landlocked
harbour, secure in the shelter of the protecting hills
behind. To the left lies Graemsay with its light-
houses, an " emerald set in a sapphire sea," and
beyond it the frowning cliffs and the purple ridge
of Hoy dominate the scene.

Away towards the west the horizon line, more
than thirty miles distant as we now see it, cuts
sharp and straight against the soft blue sky. If
we have a good glass, we may make out on this
line, just above the town of Stromness, the Stack of
Suleskerry.

But our day's ride is yet mostly before us, so we
descend from the Ward or " watch-tower," mount our
bicycles, regain the main road, and continue our way
through the smiling landscape which lies in front of
us. Orphir was an important district in the old
Norse days, and a residence of the Orkney Earls
stood on the sea-shore near the parish church ; and
adjoining that church may still be seen part of a much
earlier church, one of the few circular temples in this

(1.384)

162

Round the Mainland.

country which were built in the time of the Crusades
on the model of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at
Jerusalem. In the little cove sheltered by the Head
and the Holm of Houton, some of King Hakon's ships
found shelter during the winter after the battle of
Largs, while the king himself lay dying in the ancient
palace at Kirkwall.

After a particularly stiff ride over Scorriedale,
we enter upon a long and somewhat uninteresting

Ruins of circular church, Orphir.

stretch of road through Clestran and Ireland, and
at last reach the main road from Kirkwall to Strom-
ness, close to the Bridge of Waith, which crosses the
narrow strait between the Loch of Stenness and the sea.
We can see just above this bridge the traces of a still
older one, and the name Waith probably indicates that
this was originally a " wading-place " or ford at low tide.

Round the Mainland. 163

But we are not to cross the bridge to-day ; we turn
back towards Kirkwall to complete our tour of the
Central Mainland. The road runs along the side of
the loch, through the pretty district of Clouston, and
past the comfortable hotel which has been erected
there for the convenience of such summer visitors
as are attracted by the trout-fishing of the loch.
The largest trout ever seen was caught in the Loch
of Stenness, and if the proverb is true that " there
are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it,"
the same may yet be proved true of this loch.

We halt only long enough to obtain a welcome cup
of tea, and then continue our ride. Less than a mile
brings us to the road which leads over the Bridge
of Brogar to the Standing Stones, and we decide on
making a brief pilgrimage to this the most ancient
shrine in the islands — if, indeed, it was a shrine.
But as the afternoon is wearing towards evening,
and we have been here several times before, we
merely sit down on the short heather beside the
circle long enough to let the mystery and " eeriness "
of the scene sink into our minds and set us wondering
silently what it all meant in the far-off days when it
was new.

We need not wait here in the hope of finding out,
so we ride back past the tall " sentinel " stone and
the smaller circle of Stenness to the main road.
Another mile brings us abreast of Maeshowe, and
with the spirit of the past upon us we stop once
more. We obtain the key of this famous chambered
mound from the farmhouse opposite, in order that
we may spend a few minutes more in " wondering."

There is nothino; about Maeshowe, or even about

164 Round the Mainland.

the Standing Stones, to attract the superficial mind,
but to those who " wonder," and who can see things
which vanished from outward view many centuries
ago, those places are almost holy ground. They em-
body and embalm some of the deepest thoughts of
a long- vanished people; and though we can hardly
guess what these thoughts were, the monuments are
sacred relics to us. They are milestones, we may say,
marking early stages in the long advance of our race.

^«-

The Sentinel Stone, Stenness.

After leaving Maeshowe we face an incline just
heavy enough to recall our thoughts to the present,
and soon we are passing through the pretty glen
which opens on the Bay of Firth. The patches of
shrubbery and trees round Binscarth on our left give
a pleasing variety to the scenery, and show us once
more the possibilities and the limitations of our
islands as regards the cultivation of woods.

The village of Finstown, the half-way house
between Kirkwall and Stromness, has a beautiful

Round the Mainland.

165

situation, which can be better appreciated from the
hillside above it than from the road, and it is well
placed for attracting a share of the ordinary business
of the districts around. It has a prosperous look,
and its name reminds us that it claims to be more
than a mere village.

Before us on our left lies the wide, shallow Bay
of Firth, or " The Firth," as it might more correctly
be called, which gives its name to the surrounding

3Iaeshoive.

district. To the Norsemen it was the " Sea-trout
Firth," and must have been important for its fishing.
In more recent times it had a famous oyster-fishery ;
but that too has become a thing of the past, though
by the exercise of a little foresight and public spirit
it could easily be restored.

In the bay lie the Holm of Grimbister and the
island of Damsay, or " St. Adamnan's Isle." The
latter, as its name indicates, was the site of a Culdee
monaster}^, and is mentioned in the later Saga story.

166 Round the Mainland.

Damsay has also its share of the legendary tales
which are connected with many of the old ecclesi-
astical centres in the island.

On our rio^ht the old Kirkwall road branches off,
passing o^^er the southern shoulder of Wideford Hill ;
and beside it, on a rising ground, we see the manse
of Firth, the home of the soldier-poet Malcolm, whose
father was minister of the parish. Soon our road
bears to the left to avoid the steep, dark mass of
Wideford Hill ; we cross the broad stretch of Quanter-
ness, and a bend to the right brings us once more in
view of Kirkwall, lying beyond the Peerie Sea, whose
still waters mirror the dark mass of St. Magnus, now
gleaming with a dusky red in the glow of sunset

Third Day.

Our third day's tour is of a different character ; we
are to make our way through Kendall and Evie to
Birsay. As we shall spend the night there, our
bicycles must be loaded with a few necessary articles ;
but old campaigners always march light, and our
baggage is reduced to its absolute minimum.

The first stage of our journey takes us to Finstown,
along the main Stromness road which we traversed
yesterday. Then we turn sharp to the right, and cross
the bridge over the mouth of the " Oyce," which
reminds us of the Peerie Sea and its Ayre. The
district in front of us, the " North Side " of Firth,
consists of a broad slope, almost a plain, fringing
the bay, and the steep escarpment of a long range
of hills on our left. Most of this range is 500 feet
in height, and parts exceed 700 feet.

Round the Mainland. 167

There is a certain monotony about the road, due
to its straightness ; but there is really no reason why
it should turn either to the right hand or to the left,
so we pedal away, mile after mile. When opposite
the Bay of Isbister we pass a very pleasing valley,
that of Settascarth, through which a road crosses the
long ridge into the parish of Harray. Then we
reach the parish of Eendall, and find a long ascent
in front of us, as the road runs straight up the
" dale " whence the name of the parish arises. We
pass between the high, steep ridge on the left and a
group of hills on the right which lie between us
and the sea, forming a broad peninsula between the
Bay of Isbister and Woodwick.

When we reach the summit of this rise, we are
quite ready to halt for a while and enjoy the new
panorama which opens out to the northward. The
inner group of the North Isles — Rousaj^, Egilsay, W^yre,
and Gairsay — ^lie at our feet, as it seems ; and the more
distant members of the group can be easily made out.
Rousay is the dominant feature in the landscape, and its
steep brown hills, descending in step-like " hammars,"
make an impressive background to the green fringe of
farmland and the liquid blue of the sea.

As we resume our way along an undulating road,
we pass through a district which, despite its northerly
exposure, seems able to support a large population,
and numerous tidy cottages cluster here and there along
the roadside. By-and-by the cultivated strip becomes
narrower, the sandy beach of Aikerness gives place
to the rocky shores of Burgar, and the road turns
inland with a steep incline to dip down on the other
side of the ridge towards the Loch of Swannay.

168 Round the Mainland.

Here we shall find it well worth our while to
make a somewhat longer halt than before, and,
leaving our bicycles, we turn to climb Costa Hill,
and to view the wild cliffs at Costa Head. From
the hill we look down upon the mysterious green
islet of Eynhallow, the " Holy Island," where the
ruins of an ancient monastery have been traced,
and round which more than the usual crop of legends
has sprung up. A fair contrast it offers to the bold,
rocky cliffs of Rousay just beyond.

If it happens to be the time of spring tides, and
the ebb is running out, we shall see at this place
one of the most impressive sights which our coasts
present. However calm be the sea, as soon as the tide
begins to gather strength, the channels on either side of
Eynhallow for some distance out to sea become a mass
of heaving, foaming billows, reminding one of the long
stretch of boiling rapids below the Falls of Niagara.

And that is just what this " roost " is — rapids on
the course of the tidal river which is now sweeping
westward through Eynhallow Sound. When we look
at our pocket map, we see that on each side of
the islet the depth of water is only about five
fathoms. In about a quarter of a mile it becomes
ten fathoms, and within a mile of the west end of
the island twenty fathoms. Thus the tidal river first
passes over a ridge on each side of Eynhallow, where
it is less than thirty feet deep, and then plunges down
a slope which dips nearly one hundred feet in a mile

If there is a long swell rolling in from the Atlantic,
as there often is on our western shores, the turmoil
is increased, and the boiling fury of Burgar Roost,
as it is called, is a sight which it is worth going far

Round the Mainland.

169

to see. The roost which is formed in Hoy Sound
with a strong ebb-tide is due to similar causes,
but there the dip in the sea-bottom is not so steep.
When the tide turns, the change seems almost
magical, and in a short time there may be not a
ripple on the water to mark the scene of this mad
dance of the billows.

The cliffs at Costa Head are the highest on the
Mainland, but we can only see them from above,

Birsay, the Barony.

and thus we lose much of their wild grandeur.
We enjoy, however, an impressive view of the cave-
pierced shores of Rousay, and of the stern ramparts of
Noup Head, in Westray, with its sentinel lighthouse.
Sooner or later we must return to our bicycles, and
now we coast rapidly down to the Loch of Swannay,
sweep round its northern shore, and, crossing the
burn, climb the opposite slope towards the part of
Birsay quaintly named, " Abune the Hill," or " Above

170 Round the Mainland.

the Hill," as the map-makers have it. Instead of
following the road which strikes southward through
the centre of the parish, we turn towards the west,
and by means of an older road make our way to the
Barony of Birsay, where we shall find accommoda-
tion for the night.

But we have still a long evening before us, and
after due rest and refreshment we shall find time
to explore our surroundings. The place is full of
historical interest. The old name of Birgisharad, in
which we may trace the names of Birsay and Harray,
indicates that here was the chief hunting-ground
of the Norse Jarls. The mixture of hill and loch
and stream, the valleys being then perhaps furnished
with coverts of brushwood where now there is only
pasture or crops, made this northern part of the
Mainland the best hunting-ground in the county.

Birsay may be said to have been the capital
of the Earldom at one time. It was the favourite
residence of the Earls, and it was also the ecclesias-
tical centre, and the residence of the first bishop of
the islands. When the sainted Earl Magnus was
slain, it was in Christ's Kirk in Birsay that his body
first found burial. On the Brough we may still see the
ruins of a very ancient chapel dedicated to St. Peter.

The Stewart Earls, of dishonoured memory, found
Birsay an attractive locality. They raised on the
site of its old Norse castle a palace built after the
plan of Holyrood in Edinburgh, the ruins of which
still form one of the chief features in the landscape.
The whole district, in short, is full of those remains
which we have called milestones of the past, marking
stages in the history of our race.

Round the Mainland.

171

The shore near the Barony is interesting. We may
walk to the Brough at low water, but we must take care
not to be caught and imprisoned by the returning tide.
The cliifs rise to the southward, and in Marwick
Head reach a height of nearly three hundred feet.

The chief attraction for tourists is the Loch of
Boardhouse and its trout fishing. This loch receives
the drainage of a wide stretch of country, its chief
feeder being the Hillside Burn, which rises in the hills
betw^een Kendall and Harray, flows north-w^est for

The Brough of Bit

some five miles to the Loch of Hundland, and under
the name of the Burn of Kirbuster reaches the larger
loch in about another mile. This drainage basin is
next in importance and area to that of the " Great
Lakes " of Orkney, the Lochs of Stenness and Harray.
If we have time and energy left to climb Ravie
Hill, on the south side of the loch, we shall get
an excellent idea of the " lay of the land," and the
relation of these two loch basins. We may notice in
particular that the Harray basin extends northward

172 Round the Mainland.

almost to the hill on which we stand, and includes a
number of small lochs near it which look as if they
ought to belong to the Boardhouse or Birsay system.
If scenery rather than geography is our study, we
shall be equally well repaid for this walk. From its
isolated position, Ravie Hill commands a very extensive
view, despite its moderate elevation. The panorama
of hill and valley and plain, of land and lake and sea,
which is spread out around us, is really one of the
finest in Orkney, and we can quite understand how
the picturesque Barony came to occupy so important
a place in the past. Even at the present day its rich
soil and pleasant situation give it some right to be
called the " Garden of Orkney." But meantime we must
make our way back to our inn, for the sun is dipping
in the western sea, and to-morrow will bring us fresh
tasks to perform.

Fourth Day.

Our fourth and last day's exploration will be con-
fined to the western shore of the Mainland, between
Birsay and Stromness. As we leave the Barony and
ride along the south side of the loch we are tempted
to stop and view once more the landscape from
Ravie Hill, before we finally turn our back upon this
romantic corner of the Mainland. While we watch
the people at work in the fields, and listen to the
restful sounds of country life, it is hard to picture the
past whose relics stand yonder, plain in our view.

If Birsay were to display before our eyes this
morning a pageant of her past history, the procession
would be a varied one. The hunting-parties of the
Norse Earls, the coming of the first bishop to teach

Round the Mainland. 173

the new faith, the building of the first Norse church,
the burial of Earl Magnus, the procession of pilgrims
seeking miraculous healing at his tomb, the removal
of the sacred relics to the church of St. Olaf at
Kirkwall to await the building of a more magnificent
shrine, the ruinous favour of the Scottish Earls, the
raising of a second Holyrood in the old Barony whose
stately splendour was the measure of the robbery
and extortion sufiered by the people, the passing of
this incongruous pomp and the return of welcome
obscurity and quiet — ^truly a long and picturesque
procession !

We resume our journey, however, and soon reach
Twatt, where the road divides. The branch to the
left leads to the important district of Dounby, on the
borders of the three parishes of Birsay, Harray, and
Sandwick, and then passes through the whole length
of Harray to join the Kirkwall and Stromness road.

Harray is an interesting parish. It is the only
parish in Orkney which does not touch the sea. Its
soil is on the whole fertile, the surface being diversi-
fied by moraines brought down by glaciers from the
steep hills to the east. The farms are generally small,
but the farmers are mostly in the happy position of
being owners as well as occupiers, and the number
of " lairds " in this parish has long been proverbial in
Orkney.

We decide, however, on taking the road to the
right, as we wish to see something of the famous
" west shore." Three or four miles brings us to the
head of the Harray Loch ; but instead of descending
to the mill of Rango we turn to the right at the
cross-roads, and shortly reach the hamlet of Aith,

174 Round the Mainland.

beside the Loch of Skaill, our charming '•' Loch in
Orcady." Here we turn once more to the right, follow-
ing a road which skirts the loch and leads us almost to
the shores of the Bay of Skaill, a fine sweep of sandy
beach, but exposed to the full fury of the Atlantic.

At its southern corner we examine a large " Pict's
House," now opened up — the " Weem of Scarabrae."
Then we decide to climb the slope beyond and visit
the '"' Hole o' Roo," a famous cave piercing a bold

Marwick Head, Birsay.

headland, which from the horizontal lie of the rock
strata looks as if it had been built of gigantic flag-
stones by a race of Titans.

We are now entering on the finest stretch of cliff
scenery in the islands, with the exception of Hoy,
and from here to Stromness, a distance of some eight
miles, the walk is one to remember and to repeat.
But now for the first time we find our bicycles a
hindrance instead of a help, and we are at a loss

Round the Mainland.

175

what to do with them. We may decide to turn back
to the main road, ride to Stromness, and, leaving them
there, explore the coast on foot, which is the most
satisfactory plan. If we decide to take them on with
us, we shall find that considerable stretches of the
ground are level enough to permit of a rough ride on

The Castle of Yesno.hii.

the turf, and for the last three miles of the distance
there is a fair road.

The next point of interest after leaving Row Head
is the Noust of Bigging, sheltered by its Brough,
an excellent place from which to watch the Atlantic
breakers when a heavy sea is running. A little way
to the south is the Castle of Yesnaby, one of those
isolated stacks of rock which have withstood the
battei'ing of the ocean while the cliffs around have

176 Round the Mainland.

crumbled and fallen. Its slender base, however,
proclaims that its fate is only a matter of time.

In another mile and a half, after passing Lyre Geo
and Inganess Geo, two impressive examples of how
rocks decay, we reach the Castle of North Gaulton,
a singularly slender and graceful pillar of rock. Then
we cross a stretch of low ground, after which there
is a steep climb up to the summit of the Black Craig.
The height of the hill is 360 feet, and that of the
cliff little less, while its sheer plunge down into the
waves makes it look higher than it really is.

As we descend towards the south we pass over a dis-
trict which is sacred in the eyes of geologists, for it was
here that Huo^h Miller discovered the fossil remains of
the Asterolepis or " star-scale " fish, a monster of the
ancient days when the rocks of this hill were being laid
down as mud and sand on the bottom of a primeval lake.
The great geologist describes this district as " the land
of fish," and the rock strata fairly swarm with fossils.

The shore in front is now low and tame, but the
whole district from hill to sea is fertile and well peopled.
That it was so in the past also we see sufficient proof.
For there, on the shore of Breckness, stand the ruins
of a mansion built by Bishop Graeme, who knew well
where to build ; and a mile beyond it, in the lonely
churchyard by the lonely sea, rises a fragment of an
ancient church. There stood the church of Strom-
ness in former days, and there also the manse ; while
the names of Innertown and Outertown doubtless refer
to their relative nearness to this centre of parish life.

But times have changed, and it is no longer
fertihty of soil but convenience for trade which draws
men together in close neighbourhood, and so the

(1.384)

178

Round the Mainland.

modern Stromness arose on the shore of that romantic
little bay which spreads out beneath us as we cross the
ridge to the left. That landlocked sea, and not the
rocky hillside, was the source of its life and growth ;
and as we note the frequent steamships and the
clustered fishing-fleet we realize that it is still the
sea which brings prosperity to the little gray town.

Here, then, our circuit of the Mainland fitly ends,
for in the opinion of many the town of Stromness,
the " ness of the tide-stream," is the fairest spot in all
the islands. However this may be, it is indeed fair,
and the Stromness boy will wander far and sail over
many seas ere he will find a fairer scene than his island
home ; — fair when it lies before him under the pearl-
gray light of its northern sky ; fairer still, perchance,
when the golden haze of memory gilds the landscape,
and the joyous vision of the outward eye has given
place to the wistful retrospect of the imagination.

f^^rn^^

The Black Craig.

SKETCHES BY HUGH MILLER.
The Dwarfie Stone.

'E landed at Hoy, on a rocky
stretch o£ shore composed
of the gray flagstones of the
district. They spread out
here in front of the tall hills
composed of the overlying
sandstone, in a green, undu-
lating platform, resembling a somewhat uneven espla-
nade spread out in front of a steep rampart. With
the upper deposit a new style of scenery commences,
unique in these islands. The hills, bold and abrupt,
rise from fourteen to sixteen hundred feet over the
sea-level ; and the valleys by which they are tra-
versed— no mere shallow inflections of the general
surface, like most of the other valleys of Orkney —
are of profound depth, precipitous, imposing, and
solitary. The sudden change from the soft, low, and
comparatively tame to the bold, stern, and high
serves admirably to show how much the character of
a landscape may depend upon the formation which
composes it.

A walk of somewhat less than two miles brought
me into the depths of a brown, shaggy valley, so
profoundly solitary that it does not contain a single

180 Sketches by Hugh Miller.

human habitation, nor, with one interesting exception,
a single trace of the hand of man. As the traveller
approaches by a path somewhat elevated, in order to
avoid the peaty bogs of the bottom, along the slopes
of the northern side of the dell, he sees, amid the
heath below, what at first seems to be a rhomboidal
piece of pavement of pale Old Red Sandstone, bearing
atop a few stunted tufts of vegetation There are no
neighbouring objects of a known character by which
to estimate its size. The precipitous hill-front behind
is more than a thousand feet in height ; the greatly
taller Ward Hill of Hoy, which frowns over it on the
opposite side, is at least Rve hundred feet higher ;
and dwarfed by these giants it seems a mere pavier's
flag, mayhap some five or six feet square by some
eighteen inches to two feet in depth. It is only on
approaching it within a few yards that we find it to
be an enormous stone, nearly thirty feet in length by
almost fifteen feet in breadth, and in some places,
though it thins wedgelike towards one of the edges,
more than six feet in thickness — forming altogether
such a mass as the quarrier would detach from the
solid rock to form the architrave of some vast gate-
way or the pediment of some colossal statue. A cave-
like excavation, nearly three feet square, and rather
more than seven feet in depth, opens on its gray and
lichened side. The excavation is widened within,
along the opposite walls, into two uncomfortably
short beds, very much resembling those of the cabin
of a small coasting vessel. One of the two beds is
furnished with a protecting ledge and a pillow of
stone hewn out of the solid mass; while the other,
which is some five or six inches shorter than its neigh-

Sketches by Hugh Miller.

181

bour, and presents altogether more the appearance of
a place of penance than of repose, lacks both cushion
and ledge. An aperture, which seems to have been
originally of a circular form, and about two and a half
feet in diameter, but which some unlucky herd-bo}^
apparently in the want of some better employment,
has considerably mutilated and widened, opens at the
inner extremity of the excavation to the roof, as the

The Dwarjie Stone.

hatch of a vessel opens from the hold to the deck ;
for it is by far too wide in proportion to the size of
the apartment to be regarded as a chimney. A gray,
rudely-hewn block of sandstone, which, though greatly
too ponderous to be moved by any man of ordinary
strength, seems to have served the purpose of a door,
lies prostrate beside the opening in front.

And such is the famous Dwarfie Stone of Hoy, as

182 Sketches by Hugh Miller.

•firmly fixed in our literature by the genius of Sir
Walter Scott as in this wide valley by its ponderous
weight and breadth of base, and regarding which —
for it shares in the general obscurity of the other
ancient remains of Orkney — the antiquary can do
little more than repeat somewhat incredulously what
tradition tells him — namely, that it was the work
many ages ago of an ugly, malignant goblin, half
earth, half air, the elfin Trolld — a personage, it is said,
that even within the last century used occasionally
to be seen flitting about in its neighbourhood.

I was fortunate in a fine, breezy day, clear and
sunshiny, save where the shadows of a few dense,
piled-up clouds swept dark athwart the landscape. In
the secluded recesses of the valley all was hot, heavy,
and still ; though now and then a fitful snatch of a
breeze, the mere fragment of some broken gust that
seemed to have lost its way, tossed for a moment the
white cannach of the bogs, or raised spirally into the
air, for a few yards, the light beards of some seeding
thistle, and straightway let them down again. Sud-
denly, however, about noon a shower broke thick and
heavy against the dark sides and gray scalp of the
Ward Hill and came sweeping down the valley.
I did what Noma of the Fitful Head had, according
to the novelist, done before me in similar circum-
stances— crept for shelter into the larger bed of the
cell, which, though rather scant, taken fairly length-
wise, for a man of ^ve feet eleven, I found, by stretch-
ing myself diagonally from corner to corner, no very
uncomfortable lounging-place in a thunder-shower.
Some provident herd-boy had spread it over, ap-
parently months before, with a littering of heath and

Sketches by Hugh Miller. 183

fern, which now formed a dry, springy couch ; and as
I lay wrapped up in my plaid, listening to the rain-
drops as they pattered thick and heavy atop or slanted
through the broken hatchwa}^ to the vacant bed on
the opposite side of the excavation, I called up the
wild narrative of Noma and felt all its poetry.

The Dwarfie Stone has been a good deal under-
valued by some writers, such as the historian of
Orkney, Mr. Barry ; and, considered simply as a work
of art or labour, it certainly does not stand high.
When tracing, as I lay abed, the marks of the tool,
which in the harder portions of the stone are still
distinctly visible, I just thought how that, armed with
pick and chisel, and working as I was once accustomed
to work, I could complete such another excavation to
order in some three weeks or a month. But then I
could not make my excavation a thousand years old,
nor envelop its origin in the sun-gilt vapours of a poetic
obscurity, nor connect it with the supernatural through
the influence of wild, ancient traditions, nor yet encircle
it with a classic halo borrowed from the undying
inventions of an exquisite literary genius.

The pillow I found littered over with the names of
visitors ; but the stone — an exceedingly compact red
sandstone — had resisted the imperfect tools at the
command of the traveller, usually a nail or a knife,
and so there were but two of the names decipherable
— that of an " H. Ross, 1735," and that of a " P. Fol-
ster, 1830." The rain still pattered heavily overhead,
and with my geological chisel and hammer I did, to
beguile the time, what I very rarely do — added my
name to the others, in characters which, if both they
and the Dwarfie Stone get but fair play, will be

184 Sketches by Hugh Miller.

distinctly legible two centuries hence. In what state
will the world then exist, or what sort of ideas will
fill the head of the man who, when the rock has well-
nigh yielded up its charge, will decipher the name for
the last time, and inquire, mayhap, regarding the indi-
vidual whom it now designates, as I did this morning
when I asked, " Who was this H. Ross, and who this P.
Folster ? " ? I remember when it would have saddened
me to think that there would in all probability be as
little response in the one case as in the other ; but as
men rise in years they become more indifferent than in
earl}^ youth to "that life which wits inherit after death,"
and are content to labour on and be obscure.

Tlie sun broke out in great beauty after the
shower, glistening on a thousand minute runnels that
came streaming down the precipices, and revealing
through the thin, vapoury haze the horizontal lines of
strata that bar the hillsides, like courses of ashlar in
a building. I failed, however, to detect, amid the
general many-pointed glitter by which the blue, gauze-
like mist was bespangled, the light of the great car-
buncle for which the Ward Hill has long been famous
— that wondrous gem, according to Sir Walter, " that,
though it gleams ruddy as a furnace to them that view
it from beneath, ever becomes invisible to him whose
daring foot scales the precipices whence it darts its
splendour."

The Standing Stones.

The Standing Stones — second in Britain, of their
kind, only to those of Stonehenge — occur in two
groups ; the smaller group (composed, however, of
the taller stones) on the southern promontory, the

te

186 Sketches by Hugh Miller.

larger on the northern one. Rude and shapeless, and
bearing no other impress of the designing faculty
than that they are stuck endwise in the earth, and
form, as a whole, regular figures on the sward, there
is yet a sublime solemnity about them, unsurpassed
in efiect by any ruin I have yet seen, however grand
in its design or imposing in its proportions. Their
very rudeness, associated with their ponderous bulk
and weight, adds to their impressiveness. When
there is art and taste enough in a country to hew an
ornate column, no one marvels that there should be
also mechanical skill enough in it to set it up on end ;
but the men who tore from the quarry these vast
slabs, some of them eighteen feet in height over the
soil, and raised them where they now stand, must have
been ignorant savages unacquainted with machinery,
and unfurnished, apparently, with a single tool.

The consideration, too, that these remains — eldest
of the works of man in this country — should have so
long survived all definite tradition of the purposes
which they were raised to serve, so that we now
merely know regarding them that they were religious
in their uses — products of that ineradicable instinct of
man's nature which leads him in so many various
ways to attempt conciliating the Powers of another
world — serves greatly to heighten their efiect.

The appearance of the obelisks, too, harmonizes well
with their great antiquity and the obscurity of their
origin. For about a man's height from the ground
they are covered thick by the shorter lichens — chiefly
the gray-stone parnielia — here and there embroidered
by the golden-hued patches of the yellow _2:)arme^'ia of
the wall ; but their heads and shoulders, raised beyond

Sketches by Hugh Miller. 187

the reach alike of the herd-boy and of his herd, are
covered by an extraordinary profusion of a flowing
beard-like lichen of unusual length — the lichen cali-
carus (or, according to modern botanists, Bamalina
scopulorur)i), in which they look like an assemblage
of ancient Druids, mysteriously stern and invincibly
silent and shaggy as the Bard of Gray, when

Loose his beard and hoary hair

Streamed like a meteor on the troubled air."

The day was perhaps too sunny and clear for
seeing the Standing Stones to the best possible
advantage. They could not be better placed than
on their flat promontories, surrounded by the broad
plain of an extensive lake, in a waste, lonely, treeless
country, that presents no bold competing features to
divert attention from them as the great central
objects of the landscape ; but the gray of the morning
or an atmosphere of fog and vapour would have
associated better with the misty obscurity of their
history, their shaggy forms, and their livid tints than
the glare of a cloudless sun, that brought out in hard,
clear relief their rude outlines, and gave to each its
sharp, dark patch of shadow. Gray-coloured objects,
when tall and imposing, but of irregular form, are
seen always to most advantage in an uncertain light
— in fog or frost-rime, or under a scowling sky, or,
as Parnell w^ell expresses it, " amid the livid gleams
of night." They appeal, if I may so express myself,
to the sentiment of the ghostly and the spectral, and
demand at least a partial envelopment of the obscure.
Burns, with the true tact of the genuine poet, develops

188 Sketches by Hugh Miller.

the sentiment almost instinctively in an exquisite
stanza in one of his less-known songs, " The Posie," —

"The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller gray,
"Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day."

Scott, too, in describing these very stones, chooses
the early morning as the time in which to exhibit
them, when they " stood in the grsiy light of the
dawning, like the phantom forms of antediluvian
giants, who, shrouded in the habiliments of the dead,
come to revisit, by the pale light, the earth which
they had plagued with their oppression, and polluted
by their sins, till they brought down upon it the
veno^eance of the lon^-sufferinsf heaven." On another
occasion he introduces them as " glimmering, a grayish
white, in the rising sun, and projecting far to the
westward their long, gigantic shadows." And Malcolm,
in the exercise of a similar faculty with that of Burns
and of Scott, surrounds them, in his description, with
a somewhat similar atmosphere of partial dimness
and obscurity : —

*' The hoary rocks, of giant size,
That o'er the land in circles rise,
Of which tradition may not tell.
Fit circles for the wizard's spell.
Seen far amidst the scowling storm.
Seem each a tall and phantom form.
As hurrying vapours o'er them flee.
Frowning in grim obscurity,
While, like a dread voice from the past,
Around them moans the autumnal blast."

There exist curious analogies between the earlier
stages of society and the more immature periods

Sketches by Hugh Miller. 189

of life — between the savage and the child ; and
the huge circle of Stennis seems suggestive of one
of these. It is considerably more than four hundred
feet in diameter; and the stones which compose it,
varying from three to fourteen feet in height, must
have been originally from thirty-five to forty in
number, though only sixteen now remain erect. A
mound and fosse, still distinctly traceable, run round
the whole ; and there are several mysterious-looking
tumuli outside, bulky enough to remind one of the
lesser moraines of the geologist. But the circle,
notwithstanding its imposing magnitude, is but a
huge child's house after all — one of those circles of
stones which children lay down on their village green,
and then, in the exercise of that imaginative faculty
which distinguishes between the young of the human
animal and those of every other creature, convert,
by a sort of conventionalism, into a church or
dwelling-house, within which they seat themselves
and enact their imitations of the employments of
their seniors, whether domestic or ecclesiastical. The
circle of Stennis was a circle, say the antiquaries,
dedicated to the sun. The group of stones on the
southern promontory of the lake formed but a half-
circle, and it was a half -circle dedicated to the moon.
To the circular sun the great rude children of an
immature age of the world had laid down a circle
of stones on the one promontory ; to the moon, in her
half-orbed state, they had laid down a half -circle on
the other; and in propitiating these material deities
they employed in their respective enclosures, in the
exercise of a wild, unregulated fancy, uncouth, irrational
^'1^®^* Hugh Miller {''Rambles of a Geologist.'')

THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. MAGNUS.

'OU would hardly expect to find
an ancient cathedral up in those
Orkney Islands that one usually
sees huddled away in a spare
corner of the map, and made to
look even smaller than they are
by the exigencies of space. It is
curious to think of : once, long ago, strange ships
with monstrous figure-heads and painted sides, full
of the northern actors of history, crawled with
their lines of oars into the sounds and bays of
these islands, till for centuries they became the stage
for dramatic events and stirring personages. Some of
the players bore names that smy history book tells
of. Harald Hardrada, old King Haco, Bothwell, and
Montrose have all played their parts. And there are
others, earls and prelates, and northern kings, and
old sea-rovers, w^ho were really far better worth
knov/ing than half the puppets with more familiar
labels. Then, gradually the lights went out and the
audience turned away to look at other things, and the
Orkneymen were left to observe the Sabbath and
elect a County Council. One by one the old build-
ings toppled down, and the old names changed, and

In Kirkioall.
1. Earl's Palace. 2. Bridge Street. 3. Albert Street. 4. Bishop's Palace.

192 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

the old customs faded, till the place of the islands in
history became their place upon the map ; but time
and men have spared one thing — this old cathedral
church of St. Magnus in Kirkwall.

On the ancient houses of the little borough and the
winding slit of a street, the old red church still looks
down benignly, and sometimes (of a Sunday, I think,
especially) a little humorously. Over the gray roofs
and the tree-tops in sheltered gardens, and the black
mites of people passing on their business, its lustre-
less Gothic eyes see a wide expanse of land and a
wider and brighter sweep of sea. The winding
sounds and broadening bays join and divide and join
again, through and through its island dominions.
Backwards and forwards, twice a day, the flood tide
pours from the open Atlantic, and each channel
becomes an eastward flowing river; and then from
the North Sea the ebb sets the races running to
the west. Everywhere is the sight or the sound of
the sea — rollers on the western clifls, salt currents
among the islands, quiet bays lapping the feet of
heathery hills. Out of the two great oceans the
wind blows like the blasts of an enormous bellows,
and on the horizon the clouds are eternally gathering.

It is over this land of moor and water and vapour
that the cathedral watches the people; and though
from the difficulty of passing through so narrow a street
it has never moved from the spot where it first arose,
and has never seen, one would suppose, the greater
part of its territories, yet it knows — none better — the
stories and the spirit of all the islands. Crows and
gulls cruise round the tower familiarly, and perhaps
bring gossip ; but eyes so long and narrow, and of

The Cathedral of St. Magnus. 193

so inhuman an anatomy, may very likel}^ see through
a hill or a heart for themselves.

The country is like a fleet at sea, and the old spirit
of the people came from the deep. At first that spirit
was only restless and fierce and free ; in time it began
to think, and at odd moments to be troubled, and
they called it pious. Then it looked for a fitting
house where it might live when it could no longer
find a home in the people. So it built the red
cathedral, and there it silently dwells to-day.

There is something in their church that none of the
respectable townsfolk have the slightest suspicion of —
something alive that vibrates to the cry of the wind
and the breaking of the sea, and the little human
events that happen in the crow-stepped houses.

On the wild autumn afternoons when the hard
north-east wind is driving rain and sleet through the
town, the old church begins to remember. The wind
and the sleet coming over the sea stir the quick spirit
so sharply that every angle is full of sighing noises.
As the shortened day draws to an end, and lights
begin to twinkle in the town, and the showers
become less frequent, and the clouds are rolled up
and gathered ofi* the sky, then the people come out
into the streets and see the early stars above the
gable-ends and high cathedral tower. They think
it cold, and walk quickly, but a personage of sand-
stone takes little note of the temperature. The
cathedral merely feels refreshed.

When the clear, windy night draws in, the people go
to rest, and one by one the lights are put out till
only the stars and the lighthouses are left. Looking
over a darkened town and an empty night, with the

(1,384) 13

194 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

air moving fresh from Norway, the memories come
thick upon the old church which shelters so many
bones. It is like digging up the soil of those lands
from which the sea has for centuries receded, and
where the ribs of ships and the skeletons of sailors
lie deep beneath the furrows of the plough.

Kirkwall must have been a strange little town before
the cathedral's memory begins, when there was no red
tower above the narrow street and the little houses, in
the days when Rognvald, the son of Kol, had vowed to
dedicate a splendid minster to his uncle, St. Magnus,
should he come by his own and call himself Earl of
Orkney ; and when the islanders waited to see what
aid the blessed saint would furnish to this enterprise.

It is one of the island tragedies — the saga of how
the evil Earl Hakon slew his cousin. Earl Magnus,
outside the old church of Egilsay with that high
round tower that you can see over Kirkwall Bay
from the cathedral parapet, and how the grass grew
greener where he fell, and miracles multiplied, and
they made him a saint in time.

Though all these events happened before a stone
of the cathedral was laid, they may help to give the
meaning of its story, and on that account they are
worth, perhaps, a rough telling here. Earl Hakon
had died, and his son Paul ruled in his stead. He
was a silent, brave, unlucky man, upright and honour-
able in his dealings, but the shadow of his father's
crime lay over the land. It brought old age and
prosperity and repentance to the doer of the deed ;
and on his son the punishment fell.

Rognvald claimed the half of the earldom. Paul
answered that there was no need for long words, "For

St. Magnus Cathedral, interior.
1. South aisle. 2. North aisle. 3. Nave.

196 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

I will guard the Orkneys while God grants me life
so to do." And then the contest began. Rognvald
attacked from north and south. Paul vanquished the
southern fleet, and hurrying north drove his rival
back to Norway ; and so the winter came on, and the
peace that in those days men kept in winter.

All had gone well with Paul, but his luck was
to change with a little thing. He was keeping Yule
with his friends and kinsmen, when upon a winter's
evening, a man, wet with the spray of the Pentland
Firth, came out of the dusk and knocked upon the
door. He was hardly the instrument, one would
think, a departed saint would choose to build a
cathedral with — a Viking with his sword ever loose in
its sheath, and his lucky star obscured, coming here
for refuge, from the ashes of his father and his home.
He was known as Sweyn Asleifson (a name to be fa-
mous in the islands), and was welcomed for his family's
sake ; they brought him in to the feast, and the drink-
ing went on. In a little while there arose a quarrel
over the cups ; Sweyn killed his man, and fled into
the night again. He was a landless outlaw this time,
for the dead man had been high in favour, and the
earl was stern. Meanwhile men went on drinking
over the hall fires ; but Paul's luck had departed, and
St. Magnus had a weapon in his hand. In the spring
the war began again, and suddenly in the midst of
it Earl Paul disappeared — his bodyguard cut down
upon the beach, himself spirited clean away. Sweyn
Asleifson had come for him, and carried him to a fate
that was never more than rumoured. So Rognvald
won the earldom, and the first stones of his church
were laid. The saint had certainly struck for him.

The Cathedral of St. Magnus. 197

That is the true story of the vow and the building
of the cathedral, a tale too old for even the venerable
church to remember. But all the long history of the
seven centuries since it knows ; and indeed it has
played such a part in scene after scene and act after
act, that a memory would have to be of some poorer
stuff than hewed sandstone to forget a past so
stirring. And who can be so far behind every scene
as the house which during men's lives listens to their
prayers, and at last upon a day takes them in for
ever ?

When it first began to look down from its windows
upon those men going about their business in the
sunshine or the rain, it saw among the little creatures
some that were well worth remembering, though there
be few but the cathedral to remember them now.
There was Rognvald himself, that cheerful, gallant
earl who made poetry and war, and sailed to Jerusalem
with all his chiefs and friends, fighting and rhyming
all the way, and riding home across the length of
Europe, and who, when he fell by an assassin's hand,
was laid at last beneath the pavement of this cathedral
he had founded. And then, most memorable of all
the great odallers who followed him in war and
sat at his Yule feasts, there was the Viking, Sweyn
Asleifson, he who kidnapped Paul, and afterwards be-
came the lifelong and, on the whole, faithful friend
of Rognvald, and the faithless enemy of almost every
one else ; the most daring, unscrupulous, famous, and
— -judging by the way he always obtained forgiveness
when he needed it — the most fascinatino^ man in all
the northern countries. He was the luckiest, too, till
the day he fell in an ambush in the streets of Dublin,

198 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

exclaiming with his last breath, in most remarkable
contrast to the tenor of his life : " Know this, all men,
that I am one of the Saint Earl Rognvald's body-
guard, and I now mean to put my trust in being
where he is, with God." May he rest in peace wher-
ever his bones lie, even though his reformation came
something late, the turbulent, terrible old Viking, whom
the Saga writers called the last of that profession.

The generation who built it had passed away, when
on a summer's day, after it had weathered nearly a
century of storm and shine, the cathedral saw the
greatest sight it had yet beheld. Haco of Norway
had come with his fleet to conquer the Western Isles
of Scotland, the Norse kings' old inheritance. The
pointed windows watched ship after ship sail by with
coloured sails and shining shields, bearing the Norse-
men to their last battle in southern lands ; and then
the islands waited for the news that in those days
was brought by the men who had made the story.

Month upon month went by; men wondered and
rumours flew ; the days grew shorter, and the gales
came out upon all the seas. At last, when winter
was well upon the islands, what were left of the
battered ships began to struggle home. They brought
back stories that the cathedral remembers, though six
centuries have rolled them out of the memories of
the people — tales of lee-shores and westerly gales, of
anchors dragging under the Cumbraes, and Scottish
knights charging down upon the beach where the
Norwegian spears were ranked on the edge of the
tide ; then of more gales and whirlpools in the
Pentland, until at length they carried their old sick
king ashore, to die in the bishop's palace at Kirkwall.

St. Magnus Cathedral, exterior.

1. West doorway, nave. 2. East window. 3. Doorway, south transept.

4. Doorway, north aisle, 5. Doorway, south aisle.

200 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

He lay for two months in that ancient building —
now a roofless shell, standing just beyond the church-
yard wall — his most faithful friends beside him, the
restless Orkney wind without, and the voice of the
Saga reader by the bed. First they read to him in
Latin, till he grew too sick to follow the foreign words;
and then in Norse, through the Sagas of the saints,
and after of the kings. They had come down to his
own father, Sverrir, and then, in the words of the old
historian, " Near midnight Sverrir 's Saga was read
through, and just as midnight was past jilmighty
€rod called King Hakon from this world's life." They
TDuried him in the great red church that had stood
sentinel over the sick-chamber; and as the race of
Vikings died with Sweyn, so the roving, conquering
kings of Norway passed away with Haco, and never
again came south to trouble the seaboards.

The Orkneys, however, were not yet out of the
current of affairs. They cut, indeed, but a small
figure compared with the Orkney of the great Earl
Thorfinn in the century before Eognvald founded his
cathedral — he who owned nine earldoms in Scotland
and all the Southern Isles, besides a great realm in
Ireland. But there was still a bishop in the palace
and an earl with powers of life and death in his
dominion, and an armed following that counted for
something in war ; and the cathedral was still the
church of a small country rather than of a little
county. The sun cast the shadows of dignitaries in
the winding street, and the bones they were framed
of were laid in time beneath the flags of St. Magnus's
church. When one comes to think of it, the old
cathedral must hold a varied collection of these,

The Cathedral of St. Magnus. 201

for here lie the high and the low of two races, and
no man knows how many chance sojourners and
travellers.

At last, upon a dark day for the islands, their era
of semi -independence and Yikingism and Norse
romance came to a most undignified end. A needy
king of the north pledged them to Scotland for his
daughter's dowry, as a common man might pledge
his watch. East to Norway was no longer the way
to the motherland, and the open horizon meeting the
clouds, the old highroad, led now to a foreign shore.
Henceforth they belonged to the long coast with its
pale mountain peaks far away over the cliffs, which
had once, so far as the eye could see, belonged to
them. It was a transaction intended for a season,
but the season has never run to its limit yet. Now,
it is to be hoped, it never will ; but for centuries it
would have been better for the Orkneys if they had
gone the way of some volcanic islet and sunk quietly
below the gray North Sea.

One might think that, when they had ceased to be
a half-way house between their sovereign and his
neighbours of Europe, and were become instead a
geographical term applied to the least accessible
portion of their new lord's dominions, their history
and their troubles would soon have ceased, and the
islanders been left to fish and reap late crops and
try to keep out the winter weather. But there
was no such good luck for many a day to come.
Alas for themselves, they were too valuable an asset
in the Scotch king's treasury. Orkney too valuable !
That collection of windy, treeless islands, where great
ponds of rain-water stand through the fields for

202 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

months together, and a strawberry that ripens is
shown to one's friends ! The plain truth is that,
measured by a Scotch standard of value in those days,
it would have been hard to find a pocket not worth
the picking. The rental of Orkney was more than
twice that of the kingdom of Fife, and Fife, I suppose,
was an El Dorado compared with most provinces of
its impecunious country. So north they came, Scotch
earls and bishops and younger sons, to make what
they could before the pledge was redeemed. And to
the old cathedral was flung the shame of standing as
the symbol of oppression. It was not its fault, and
every stone must have silently cried to Heaven for
forgiveness. But a cathedral meant a bishop, and an
Orkney bishop meant the refinement of roguery and
exaction. When these prelates in their turns came to
inhabit permanently their minster, and they could at
last hear the voice of its spirit that loves the land it
watches, demanding an account of their stewardship,
what could they say ? The old excuse — " We must
live " ? I can hardly think the church perceived the
necessity.

That monument which the old sailors and fighters
of the north had built, that they might link a better
world with the rough and warring earth, had to stand
immovable for century upon century, watching the
trouble of their sons. It saw^ them make their stand
at Summerdale in the old fashion, with sword and
halbert and a battle-cry on their lips, and march back
again to the town in a glimpse of triumph. But that
quickly faded, and the weight of new laws and evil
rulers gradually broke the high spirit entirely. It
saw the proud odallers reduced to long-suflering

The Cathedral of St. Magnus. 203

" peerie lairds," and all their power and romance and
circumstance of state pass over to the foreigner, until
after a time it was hard to believe that, some pages
further back, there was a closed chapter of history
which read quite differently from this.

Down below the parapet of the tower the narrow
streets were full of the most splendid-looking people,
all in steel and the Stewart arms. Earls Robert and
Patrick of that royal name, each, through his scandal-
ous life, made the island the home of a prince's court ;
and out among the moors and the islands the old race
wondered wdiose turn it should be for persecution
next, and how long Heaven would let these things be.

The downfall of the Stewarts' rule came at last,
violently as was fit, but to the end they used the old
church on behalf of the wrong. The tower was
wrapped in the smoke of the rebels' musketry when
old Earl Patrick lay by the heels in Edinburgh
awaiting his doom as a traitor, and his son held
Kirkwall against what might, by comparison, be
termed the law, and it was only at the point of the
pike that they turned the last Stewart out of the
sepulchre of St. Magnus.

Then the long windows watched the shadows of
all manner of persons, who are well forgotten now,
darken the prospect for a while, and pass away to let
other clouds gather; and in all that time there cannot
have been many whom a critical edifice can recall
with pride.

The bishops were sent about their business, and the
Solemn League and Covenant was solemnly sworn.
The troopers of Cromwell stalked through the old
pillars with their wide hats the firmer set on. The

204 The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

Covenant was unsworn, and the bishops came back
and acquired emoluments for a little while longer, till
at last they went altogether, and in good, sober
Presbyterian fashion the awakened people set about
purifying their temple. Poor old church 1 they did
it thoroughly. Away went carving and stained glass,
and ancient tombs and bones, and everything that the
austere taste of Heaven is supposed by man to dislike.
They made it clean with a kind of yellowish white-
wash, and divided it by a sanitary deal screen
impervious to draught. In this shameful guise the
cathedral has watched the advent of quiet days and
the slow healing of time. To-day the greatest clam-
our it hears is made by the rooks. No earl's men or
bishop's men quarrel in the streets ; no one either
fears or harries the islanders ; the history of Orkney
is written and closed and laid upon the shelf. The
hands of the clock move evenly round, and the
seasons change by the almanac.

But there stands the old red church, silently
remembering and arranging in their due perspective
all these things remarkable and true. The worst of
it is that it makes no comment that a mortal can
understand, so that no one can say what a seasoned,
well-mortared observer of seven centuries of affairs
thinks of changing dynasties and creeds, and whether
it is disposed to take them more seriously than so
many moultings of feathers, and if one can retain any
optimism through a course of whitewash and draught-
proof screens.

It is pleasant to think, for the old minster's sake,
that it heeds the rubs of fortune very little, and
regards material changes just as so many shifts of

The Cathedral of St. Magnus.

205

plumage. Its people are still flesh and blood, and its
islands rock and turf and heather, and it will take
more than pails and paint-brushes, and pledges and
covenants to make them otherwise. The winter days
are as bleak as ever, and the summer evenings as
long and light, and the sun rises out of the North
Sea among the flat green islands, and sinks in the
Atlantic behind the western heather hills ; and it is
likely enough that from the height of the cathedral
tower many other most serious events look surpris-
ingly unimportant.

J. Storer Clouston.
! ( * * Macmillan's Magazine. " £^ permission. )

Kirkwall in mnter.

A ROAD IN ORCADY.

N soufchern lands — and most lands are south-
ern to us — the road runs between fragrant
hedgerows or under shady trees ; but in
Orcady trees and hedges are practically
unknown. Yet the road lacks not its
charm, for this is a world of compensa-
tions. If we never breathe the fragrance
of the may or hear the whisper of the wind-stirred
branches, we have, on the other hand, nothing to shut
out from our eyes the wide expanse of land and
sea or to hide the blue sky over us, no fallen timber
after a gale to block our way and make of our
progress an involuntary obstacle race, and no thorns
to puncture our cycle tyres. The lover of the high-
way may miss here much of the bird-life that enlivens
the roads of the south ; but our road has a life and
traffic of its own quite apart from the trickling
stream of men and horses which flows fitfully along
its white channel. Flowers and flies, birds and
beasts, the road has something for each and all of
them. Even by day they use it, but from dusk to
dawn they claim it as their very own.

I do not remember that Stevenson, who so loved
the road, has written anywhere of its little life — of
the birds and beasts, the shy living things, that haunt

By the Roadside — ^^ Peerie Hooscs."
1. Holm. 2. Harray. a Birsay. 4. Tankerness. 6. Orphir.

208 A Road in Orcady.

it. In the treeless isles of Orcady, at least, the furred
and feathered creatures seem to think that man makes
the road for their especial delectation. For all crea-
tures of beach and bog, hill and meadow, it has its
charms ; and hence it is ever beat upon by soft,
soundless feet and shadowed by swiftly moving
wings, and many a little comedy or tragedy is played
out upon its stage. We walk upon it in spring and
summer through an air fragrant with the perfume of
innumerable small, sweet flowers, with the music of
birds and bees about us, and ever, under and behind
all song, the voice of the great sea, full of indefinable
mystery as of a half-remembered dream.

The engineer who makes the road unwittingly
plans it in such fashion as to be of service to the
folk of moor and marsh, of shore and furrow. In
Orcady every road, sooner or later, leads to the sea.
In former days the sea itself was the great highway,
and therefore close to its shores are found the old
kirks and kirkyards. For by sea men came to wor-
ship God, and by sea they were carried to their long
home. The kirks and kirkyards being beside the sea,
the road comes thither to them. It comes down also to
the piers, the slips, and jetties, which play so important
a part in the lives of the islanders. Thus the road
passes within a few yards of the haunts of all the
divers, swimmers, and waders that frequent our shores.

Also in making a road the aim of the man who
plans it is to avoid, so far as possible, all ascents and
descents. In carrying out this aim he raises the road
on embankments where it passes through low and
marshy grounds, and makes cuttings through the
higher lands. Where it runs through such a cutting

A Road in Orcady. 209

the roadside ditches catch and keep a little store of
water in a dry season, and thither plover, snipe,
redshanks, and dotterel bring their velvet-clad bird-
lings to drink. If the season be wet, the road raises
above the marsh a comparatively dry platform, on
which the birds may rest when not feeding, and the
roadside dykes offer a shelter from wind and sun.

But our road draws feet and wings to it in many
other ways. It passes now through cultivated fields,
with dry stone dykes fencing it on either side ; now
it runs unfenced through the open moorland, and
again along the very margin of the sea. Here it is
bordered by marshes and there by a long reach of
black peat-bog, and everywhere it woos with varied
wiles the living things of earth and air. Before the
dykes have seen many seasons they begin to deck
themselves with velvet mosses, and to the miniature
forests of moss come insects of the lesser sorts, flying
and creeping things, red and brown and blue. In
pursuit of these small deer come the spiders, which
lurk in crevices of the walls and spread their cunning
snares across the mouths of culverts where farm roads
branch off" from the highway. Long-legged water-
skaters dart to and fro among the floating weeds on
the surface of the stagnant ditches; and over these
ditches the midg^es weave their fantastic dances on
summer evenings. The litter of passing traffic brings
hurrying, busy, burnished beetles, which find har-
bourage in the loosely piled banks of ditch scrapings
that form the boundary between highway and moor-
land. Where the road, with its generous grassy
margin, runs like a white ribbon with green borders
through the brown moors, wild flowers that are choked

(1,384) 14

210 A Road in Orcady.

or hidden in the heather spread themselves to the
sunshine — primroses and daisies, clover red and white,
milkwort and tormentil, hawk weed and violets, thyme
and crowfoot : their very names read like a poem.
The number of small wild flowers that grow in our
roadside ditches and within reach of the road is
amazing when one begins to reckon them. Here the
steep grassy bank is gorgeous with rose-campion and
with the purple and gold of the vetches, and all the air
is sweet with the perfume of wild mustard, which with
the pale yellow of its blossoms almost hides the green
in that field of springing barley. This wet meadow,
on either hand all aglow with the pink blossoms of
the ragged robin, a little earlier in the year had its
wide and shallow ditches glorified by the broad green
leaves and exquisite feathery blooms of the bog-bean,
while its drier grounds were starred with the pale
cups of grass of Parnassus. In spring the vernal
squills shone on yonder hillocks with a blue glory as
of the sea in summer.

On this long flat stretch of peat-bog these are not
untimely snowdrifts but nodding patches of cotton-
grass. In autumn, when a strong wind blows from
that quarter, all the road will be strewn with the
silvery, silken down that makes so brave a show
among the purple heather of the bog. Later still in
the year the same bog will glow ruddy as with a
perpetual sunset, when the long, coarse grass reddens.
Passing this way on some gray afternoon the way-
farer will find it hard to believe that the "charmed
sunset" has not suddenly shone out through the
clouds " low adown in the red west." And the peat-
moss on which the road is built has other glories —

A Road in Orcady. 211

green moss and moss as red as blood, fairy cups of
silver lichen with scarlet rims, and long reaches of
bog-asphodel, shining like cloth-of-gold and sweeten-
mg the winds with their faint, delicate perfume. Here,
where our road runs on a firmer foundation, grow
the wild willows, all low-growing and all adding
a beauty to the year in their catkins. When the
daisies have hardly ventured to thrust their heads
into a cold world the catkins gleam in silky silver,
changing as the days lengthen to yellow gold. Later
on some of them are covered with an exquisite white
down which floats their seeds about the land. The
little burns which our road bridges ripple and chatter
through miniature forests of ferns and meadow-sweet,
the foxglove shakes its bells above the splendour of
the gorse, and the yellow iris hides the young wild-
duck that are making their way by ditch and brooklet
to the sea. These are but a few of the flowers with
which the road garlands and bedecks herself to wel-
come the little peoples who love her.

To the flowers come all day long in summer the
humble-bees. These little reddish-yellow fellows, hot
and angry-looking, have their byke or nest in some
mossy bank or old turf dyke, to which they carry wax
and honey for the fashioning of a round, irregular,
dirty-looking comb. The chances are that they will
be despoiled of their treasure by some errant herd-
boy before July is half over. Their great cousins in
black velvet striped with gold prefer to live solitary
in some deserted mouse-hole ; but they cannot, for
all their swagger and fierce looks, save their honey
from Boy the Devourer. Though there are no wasps
in Orcady, the roadside blossoms have visitors other

212 A Road in Orcady.

than the bees. Here come the white and brown
butterflies, and those dainty little blue creatures
whose wings are painted and eyed like a peacock's
tail. And at night moths, white, yellow, and gray,
flit like ghosts above the sleeping flowers, or dance
mysteriously in the dusk on silent wings.

Where the insects come, there follow the insect-
eaters. On a June evening there are parts of the
road where one may see kittiwakes and black-headed
gulls hawking for moths. Wheatears and starlings,
larks and pipits, and, more rarely, thrushes, blackbirds,
and wrens, with an occasional stonechat, all come to
prey on the insect life of the road. Swallows there
are none in Orcady, but the ubiquitous sparrow is
there. To his contented mind the road offers a con-
tinual feast. When the birds set up housekeeping
in spring, many of them choose their nesting-places in
the near neighbourhood of the road. It seems almost
as if they argued that here, under the very eye of
man, they run less risk of discovery than further
afield, where he may expect to find their treasures.
From crannies of the loosely-built walls that bound
the road you may hear the hungry broods of starlings,
sparrows, and wheatears chirping on every side as
you pass in May. I have seen a nestful of young
larks gape up with their foolish yellow throats from
a tuft of grass on the very edge of a roadside ditch,
and have found a grouse's nest in the heather not
fifty yards from the most man-frequented part of the
road. Yellow-hammers, too, and other buntings often
nest in the long grass by the ditch-side. Here, in
a hedge of whin or gorse which crosses the road at
right angles, are the nests of the thrush^ the black-

A Road in Orcady. 213

bird, and the wren. If you drive along our road in
spring you shall see the male pewit, in all the glory of
his wedding garments, scraping, a few yards from the
roadside, the shallow, circular hollow in which his young
are to be hatched ; and a little later you shall see his
patient spouse look up at you fearlessly from her eggs,
or even, if your passing be at noonday, you may watch
her slip off the nest as her mate comes up behind to
relieve her in her domestic duties. For these birds have
learned that man on wheels is not to be feared, though
man on foot is one of their most dreaded enemies.

In Orcady there are not many four-footed wild
things, but those that dwell among us are drawn to
the road as surely as the birds are. In the gloaming
rabbits come down to the roadside clover where the
bees have gathered honey all day. Great brown
hares, too, come loping leisurely along the road —
moving shadows that melt into the dusk at the least
alarm. Hares always like to make their forms near
a road of some sort, for it affords them a swift and
ready means of flight when they are pur.sued. They
must be hard pressed indeed before they will dive
like rabbits into roadside drains or culverts, but these
refuges are not to be despised when greyhound or
lurcher is close upon their heels. Mice, voles, and
rats find shelter in the banks of road-scrapings or in
the walls and drain-mouths ; and the sea-otter does
not despise the road when he makes a nocturnal
expedition inland. It is not long since a man who
was early afoot on a summer morning met a pair of
otters almost on the street of our sleeping island
capital. Seals, of course, cannot use the road, but
where it runs by the sea-marge their shining heads

214 A Road in Orcady.

rise up from the water to watch the passers-by, and
he who is abroad before dawn may find them on the
beaches within a few yards of the roadway.

The deer, roe, foxes, badgers, stoats, weasels, wild-cats,
and moles of Orcady are even as the snakes of Iceland.
Tame cats run wild, however, we do not lack, and they
take their tithe from the road as surely as do the hawks
and falcons. Neither snakes, lizards, nor frogs are found
in the isles, but on a damp autumn evening the road
is dotted with toads of all sizes, which sit p-SLzmo- into
infinity or hop clumsily from before the passing wheel.

In pursuit of beetles, mice, and small birds, hawks
and owls come to the road. The kestrel of all hawks
loves it the most. He sits upon the humming tele-
graph wires or hangs poised, like Mahomet's coffin, in
mid-air, ever watchful and ready to swoop down upon
his prey. The same wires which give him a resting-
place often furnish him with food, ready killed or
disabled. When man first set up his posts along the
road and threaded them with an endless wire, sad
havoc was wrought among the birds. Plover — green
and golden — -snipe, redshanks, and grouse dashing
across the road in the dusk, struck the fatal wires and
fell dead or maimed by the wayside. I have seen a
blackbird fly shrieking from a prowling cat, and strike
the wire with such force that his head, cut clean off,
dropped at my very feet. The older birds appear to
have learned a lesson from the misfortunes of their
fellows, but every autumn young birds, new to their
wings, pay their tribute of victims to the wires. More
especially is this the case with the plovers, and though
the kestrel rarely touches so big a bird when it is
whole and sound, he feasts upon their wounded.

A Road in Orcady. 215

The hen-harrier skims to and fro along the road-
side ditches, but he is a wary and cautious fowl, and
is never within gunshot of the road when a man
comes down that way. The merlin, that beautiful
miniature falcon, glides swift and low across the
moors and meadows, flashes suddenly over the road-
side dyke, and before the small birds have time to
realize that their enemy is upon them, he is gone
again — only a little pufF of feathers floating slowly
down the air showing where he struck his prey.
The peregrine wheels high overhead, but is too proud
and shy a bird to hunt upon man's roads. Nor has
the road any charm for the raven, who goes croaking
hoarsely over it on his way from shore to hill. The
little short-eared owls hide all day among the heather
near our road, and come flapping up in the gloaming
on noiseless wings to take their share of its good
things. In the treeless islands the kestrel is not the
only bird that sits upon the wires. There the star-
ling sings his weird love song, mingling with his own
harsh notes the calls of every other bird that the
islands know; and the buntings chant their lugu-
brious and monotonous ditties there.

The telegraph wires are not the only mysterious
works of man which have disturbed and interfered with
the feathered life so near to and yet so far apart from
his. What a mystery must he be to those fellow-
creatures who watch him, with his continual scratching
and patching of the breast of kindly Mother Earth !
Not wholly does he yield the road to them between
sunset and sunrise ; but when he goes abroad in the
dark it is often in the guise of a rumbling dragon
with great eyes of flame. Once, to the writer's

216 A Road in Orcady.

knowledge, a gannet swooped down in valiant ignor-
ance on such a horrid creature of the night. He
flashed suddenly, white out of the darkness, into the
circle of light of a doctor's gig lamps. That bold
bird his fellows saw no more ; and one may fancy
that with his disappearance a new terror was added
to the fiery-eyed creatures that roam the roads by
night. He died, though not without a fierce fight
for his life ; and his skin, cunningly filled out with
wire and straw, stands under a glass case in his
slayer's home even unto this day.

It is in spring and summer that the road sets forth
its choicest lures for its lovers, yet even in " winter
and rough weather " it has its beauties for the seeing
eye. The puddles and cart-ruts shine like dull silver
when the clouds are heavy and gray overhead.
When the rain cloud blows over and the sky clears,
these same shallow pools and channels gleam with
a cold, clear blue, more exquisite than that of the
heavens they reflect; and at night the stars be-
sprinkle them with diamonds. Again, —

"Autumnal frosts enchant the pool,
And make the cart-ruts beautiful."

"When daisies go" — and of all roadside blossoms
they linger latest and reappear earliest (I have seen
them lifting their modest crimson-tipped heads in
December and opening their yellow eyes before the
coltsfoot stars begin to shine) — but even when they
are gone the gray stone dykes have still a glory of
green moss, of gray and golden lichens.

When all the land is soaked and sodden with
heavy rains, the road, where it climbs that low brown

A Road in Orcady. 217

hill, will suddenly shine out across the intervening
miles like a sword flung down among the heather.

When the winter rains have given place to the
first snowfall of the year, go out early in the morning,
before hoofs and wheels have blotted out the traces of
the night, and you shall learn, as nothing else save
long and close observation can teach you, how great
is the nocturnal traffic of birds and beasts upon the
road. Like fine lacework you shall find their foot-
prints, to and fro, round and across, up the middle
and down again. Hares and rabbits, rats and mice,
gulls and plovers, thrushes and larks, water-hens and
water-rails — these and many more have been busy
here while you slept. And even now bright eyes are
watching you, themselves unseen — those unsuspected
eyes which are ever upon us as we follow the road on
our daily round of duty or pleasure. Do they look on
us with fear or wonder, with contempt or admiration,
or with a mingling of all these feelings ? That we can
never know while the great barrier of silence stands
between us and them. We blunder across their lives,
doing them good and evil indiscriminately, but we
understand them no more than they can understand us.

Now in winter, new birds come to our road.
Great flocks of snow-buntings, circling and wheeling
with marvellous precision, at one moment almost
invisible — a dim, brown, moving mist — and the next
flashing a thousand points of silver to the level rays
of the wintry sun. Scores of greenfinches, which we
never see in summer, rise from the road edges to circle
a little way and settle again. The " spink spink " of
the chaffinch, also unknown to us in summer, may now
be heard ; fieldfares spring chuckling through the air

218 A Road in Orcady.

far overhead, and red-winged thrushes hop among the
stubbles. Down this shallow pass between the low hills
come in the gloaming the lines of the wild swans, flying
from the upland lochs to the sea. Their trumpet call
rings far through the frosty air, and as we hear them
there stir within us vague thoughts and dreams of the
white north whence they came. As if answering the
thought, the wet road shines with a new, faint, un-
earthly light, as flickering up the northern sky come
the pale shifting streamers of the aurora borealis.

Of the human life that pulses intermittently along
our road there is not space now to write. Boy and
girl, youth and maiden, man and woman, day by day,
year in, year out, they follow the winding line, till for
each in turn the day comes when it leads them to the
kirkyard or to the sea, and the roads of Orcady know

them no more. DuxNcan J. Robertson.

( ' * Longman's Magazine. " By permission. )

w

4

Kirkwall Pier — a midnight jphotograxjh.

A LOCH IN ORCADY.

'T is one among many, in an island where
the lochs lie scattered like fragments of
the sky fallen among the hills — one
among many, and one of the least
known of them all. On it the fisher-
man casts no fly, or casts it in vain, for
fish have never prospered in its waters.
It can never be an ideal trout loch, for it is not fed,
like its sister lochs, by the innumerable small burns
that channel our low hills. One surface-fed streamlet
indeed flows into it, a streamlet hardly worthy of
the courtesy-title it bears ; but for the most part its
waters are drawn from the secret sources of the
springs.

Its placid surface mirrors no hillsides purple with
heather and green with waving fern, but from its
margin the land rolls back in low billows, squared
with fields that year by year darken under the
plough and smile again in due season with the
homely crops of the isles. Yet the little loch has
charms of its own for those who know it — charms
that its wilder and more romantic sisters cannot
boast. Not a quarter of a mile from its western
shore the Atlantic billows boom and thunder upon
the clifis, or roll in, great and green, to burst and

220 A Loch in Orcady.

spread in a whirling smother of foam upon the
sands ; and the quiet of the inland water is thrice
welcome to eye and ear when these are dazzled
and wearied by the ceaseless turmoil and tumult of
the sea.

The valley in which lies the loch runs down to
a deeply curved bay, swept and scoured out by the
sea, where there is a breach in the great cliiF rampart
that guards our island's western coast. Up this
valley the wind has, through the ages, heaped a
huge sandhill which rolls and ripples under its
greensward down to the lip of the bay. Between
the sand and the clay lies the loch, narrowed by
the rising slope of sand that forms its northern bank.

At its eastern end is the germ of a village. A
little shop, a post office, the long, low building which
was a school before these days of school boards —
these and a few cottages stand between the loch and
the sunrise. Close to the water's edge runs the high-
road leading from a steep little seaport town, away
through the quiet country, luring men to the sea
and the great world of adventure beyond it. For
with us isles-folk the tune that sings itself in the
dreams of youth is not " Over the hills" but " Over
the seas and far away."

Along the northern shore, as close as may be to
the water, runs another road — a road that leads to
the kirk and the kirkyaird, and, incidentally, to the
laird's house. Yet because men, who made the road,
must preserve an apparent sobriety and straightness
of purpose, while Nature, who laid the line between
land and water, need care nothing for her reputation,
there runs between the road and the water a grassy

2

Some "Big Rooscs." — I.
Skaill, Sandwick. 2. Binscarth. 3. Hall of Tankerness. 4. Westness, Rousay.
5. Holodyke, Harray.

222 A Loch in Orcady.

margin. Here it is of the narrowest, and there it
spreads out into miniature capes and peninsulas, where
teal love to rest in the early morning, and rabbits
come down to nibble the juicy water-plants long
before man is afoot.

On the other side of the road the sandbank rises,
steep and green, a cliff of sandy sward sometimes
attaining a height of full twenty feet. There the
rabbits have their outposts. The green turf is
splotched with the scattered sand from their burroAvs,
and their white tails bob and flutter among the
mounds they have made.

This is but the flank of the sandhill. Farther
to the west, where man has never ploughed the sand,
the loch is bounded by low, green links which swarm
with rabbits. Bunkers and hazards there are to
delight the soul of the golfer; yet hither that lover
of links comes but seldom. The rabbits and the birds
have it all to themselves, save where some little
fields are set amid the links, and one or two houses
of men.

Out of the turf of the bank projects a great stone,
gray with lichen, and looking like the broken and
petrified shaft of a mighty spear flung by one of the
giants who of old waged a titanic warfare from isle
to isle. Yet if a vague legend be true, the great
stone is rather some bewitched living creature waiting
the breaking of spells; for, so they say, there is a
certain night in each year when it leaves its sandy
bed and goes down to quench its thirst in the waters
of the loch.

Yet the birds do not fear it. The wheatear jerks
and bobs upon its topmost edge as we gaze and

A Loch in Orcady. 223

wonder how and when he came hither. Then with
a flirt of his tail he is off to repeat his cheerful,
tuneless call upon the nearest mound.

At its western end the loch widens and is divided
into two little bays, a bay of sand and a bay of mud.
In the more northerly of these bays there is being
fought a long skirmish in the great, slow, endless war
between land and water; and now victory leans
towards the land, for the sand, blowing up day by
day from the sea, settles here in the shallow water
and drives it back.

Twenty years ago, between the loch's edge and the
links lay a field of shining yellow sand, to which the
golden plover were wont to come down in great flocks
of an autumn evening. Once the sand had established
itself, the advance of grass and flowers began.
Pushing forward a vanguard of reeds and rushes,
they pursued their steady march down to the water's
edge ; and now, where the sands were, is a grassy
meadow, starred in its season with the pale blooms
of the grass of Parnassus, its landward side meshed
by rabbit tracks, the tiny rivulets winding through
it beset with scented beds of wild peppermint and
haunted by snipe, and its outer margin giving cover
to duck and coots, to water-hens and dabchicks.

There are little islets beyond the meadow, some
grass-grown, some still of bare sand, and a little sandy
beach at one place, where redshanks and ringed
plover run in the shallows. Thither too come the
dunlin and the sandpiper, and rarer birds — knots
and rufls, greenshanks with their triple call, and
whimbrels, the " summer whaups " of the isles-folk.
Here you may wade, knee-deep in clear water, to the

224 A Loch in Orcady.

very outer edge of the reeds and find all the way
a footing on hard sand. And the reeds will yield
their secrets. On this heaped pyramid the little
grebe is hatching her eggs, and that reedy platform
is a coot's nest. Or at a later season you may
chance, if the Fates be kind, to catch a glimpse of
scurrying dusky ducklings vanishing among the green
stems, while their mother flutters offj making-believe
to have a broken wing.

A wide, shallow ditch divides the marsh from the
fields on the south, and where the ditch ends an old
stone wall begins, marches a little way towards the
water, and then breaks ofi" to run round the bay
of mud, and so up along the south shore of the
loch. Where it turns off*, this wall seems at one
time to have meditated an advance into the water,
and in its retreat has left a tumbled straggle of
stones which runs out along a little cape. Here at
twilight come great gray herons, shouting hoarsely,
to sit gazing into the waters. Here, too, curlews are
wont to gather, keeping well out of gunshot from
Avail or ditch.

The southern bay — the bay of mud — holds a great
reed-bed, where shelter many water-fowl. The swans
breed there, with coot and water-hen and grebe.
There, too, come the wild duck after their kind,
mallard and teal, pochard and scaup, golden -eye
and merganser. But the bottom there is muddy and
treacherous, and it is a very doubtful pleasure to
follow the wild -fowl through their haunts in the
reeds. About the inner margin of the reed -bed,
among the grassy tussocks and muddy pools, is a
favourite feeding-ground for snipe. There, too, the

A Loch in Orcady. 225

pewits gather, and gulls of many kinds, while red-
shanks rise screaming from the water's edge.

Out in the middle of the loch is a small islet or
holm. This islet is nested on every summer by a
colony of black-headed gulls. There, too, the terns
breed, and there the great white-breasted cormorants,
which come up after the eels of the loch, sit with
black wings widespread in the sunlight. The circ-
ling, screaming cloud of gulls which hovers over the
islet is a sight never to be forgotten, and the very
thought of the sound of their calling brings back
those wonderful summer days when all the world
was young, and a brighter sun shone in a bluer sky.

There are men scattered here and there about the
world who look back to the loch and its environs
as to an earthly paradise ; and ever in their dreams
the loch, the links, the shore are but a beloved and
beautiful background to one central figure — a boy
with a gun. The seasons may change and mingle,
as seasons do in dreams, but the boy treads again the
familiar places, and renews his old disappointments
and triumphs. Each man sees different pictures and a
different boy, but a boy with a gun is always there.

It is strange to think that there may be other
boys to-day who hold the loch and all its pleasant
places in fee as we hold it by the tenure of our
memories. Stranger still to think of all the vanished
boys, back through the years, the generations, the
centuries, who have loved our little loch, hunted by
its margins, and dreamed strange dreams among the
sunny hollows of the links. Could they return
to-day, islesman born, Norseman, Pict, or Scot, they
would find many changes; for man is ever busy

(1,384) 15

226 A Loch in Orcady.

improving and altering the face of his kindly Mother
Earth : yet the loch they would see but little changed.
The waters shine as of old under the same sun-
light, or rufl9.e into miniature white -capped billows
with the autumn winds, and by night they mirror
the unchanging stars. The splendour of the sand-
hills in summer, when they robe themselves like kings
with the purple and gold of crowfoot and thyme ;
the hot scent of wild peppermint crushed under foot ;
the trumpet call of the wild swans ringing through
the frosty air on winter nights ; the pipings and
flutings of the water-fowl among the summer reeds ;
the screaming of falcons and croaking of ravens from
the cliffs ; and overhead, from dawn to dusk, in the
long days of the northern summer, the myriad music
of the larks ; — all these things they would find
unchanged. And though the little fences and fields,
the roads, the byres and barns of men have changed
the nearer scene, yet man has not altered the " beloved
outline of familiar hills," nor silenced the deep music
01 the eternal sea. Duncan J. Robertson.

( ' ' LongmarCs Magazine. " By permission. )

AMONG THE KELPERS.

N the end of March and the beginning
of April, when the isles rise brown from
a steel-gray, wind-ruffled sea, their bare
unloveliness is veiled by pale blue smoke-
drifts, which cast over the low, sloping
S|i^ shores a certain charm of remoteness and
of mystery. Later in the year, when the
summer seas are only less blue than the skies above
them, and every island shines like an emerald, white
jets and spirals as from many altars rise round all
the shores. For spring and summer are the kelper's
seasons, and long, dry days, which scorch and wither
the young crops, are welcome to the crofter who has
secured a good stock of "tangles" in winter and a
big share in a " brook of ware," now that " burning
weather" has come.

Until recently no kelp was burned after Lammas —
that is, August 2 — but of late years, when the season
has been dry, the fires have been burned even so late
as October.

The kelper's year may be reckoned from mid-
November. Then he is paid for his work in the
year that is ended. Then the gales sweep up from
north or west, tearing from its deep sea -bed the
red- ware, of which the long supple stems are known

228 Among the Kelpers.

to the islesmen as " tangles." Should the wind
freshen to a gale during the night, the diligent
kelper is up and out before the first glimmer of
dawn. Buffeted by the wind and lashed by the
stinging spray, he peers through the darkness, watch-
ing for those shadows against the white surf of
the breaking waves which he knows to be rolling
masses of seaweed and wrack. He is armed with
a " pick," an implement resembling a very strong
hayfork, but with the prongs set, like those of a
rake, at right angles to the handle. With this
pick, struggling often mid-thigh deep in the rushing
waters, he grapples the tumbling seaweed and drags
it up the beach, out of reach of the waves. For the
wind may change, and the " brook," as he calls a
drift of weed, if not secured at once, may be carried
out to sea again, or even worse, to some other strand
where it will be lost to him. Of course, the winds
and waves often do this work alone, and pile the
tangles in huge, glittering rolls along the beaches.

When the brook is fairly on the strand, the work of
the kelper is only begun. He has to carry the tangles
from the beach to the seabanks above, in carts where
that is possible, and where no carts can pass, then
laboriously on hand-barrows. I know of one strand
on which the great gale of November 1893 landed a
brook of tangles which kept the kelpers busy for three
months. Once on the banks, the tangles are stacked
in great heaps on " steiths," or foundations built of
sea-rounded stones arranged in such fashion as to give
free ingress to the air. There they lie till spring, when
by the action of wind and sun they have become hard,
dry, and wrinkled — ^brands ready for the burning.

2

3

: 5

Some ^^ Big Hooses." — //.

1. Trumbland, Rousay. 2. Graeu:e3hall, Holm. 3. Melfletter. 4. Balfour CasUe.

5. Smoogro. Orpliir

230 Among the Kelpers.

Only the tangles can be dried in winter ; but the
softer parts — the foliage, one may call it — of the red-
ware is not lost, but goes to manure the fields, and
until a sufficient quantity has been obtained for that
purpose none is made into kelp.

Each proprietor in the islands has right, generally
under a charter from the Crown, to the weed cast
up on his shores. Each ware-strand, or beach where
drift-weed comes to land, is set apart for a certain
number of tenants on the estate to which it belongs,
and each brook of ware as it comes ashore is divided
among these tenants, usually in proportion to their
rents. The general custom is, that it is decided by
lot from which portion of the brook each man shall
draw his share. The middle is generally considered
the best part, as there the weed is in its greatest bulk,
and less rolled and beaten by the sea than at the ends ;
but it may happen that one end is near the only part
of the beach where the ware can be carried up, and
then the man who draws his lot there is saved much
labour.

The sharing of the ware is a fertile seed of dispute
and an inexhaustible source of quarrel. The "kelp
grieve," or overseer who acts for the proprietor, gener-
ally settles all disputes ; and each kelper, with the aid
of his family, carries up his share of the brook, and
spreads it on the drying-greens. These are most
frequently links that know not cleek or driver, and
upon them in the early morning the ware is spread,
as thinly as may be, to be dried on the short, crisp
grass by sun and wind.

To the man whose daily life is built about with
stone and lime, the summer work of the kelpers shines

Among the Kelpers.

231

tempting as the waters to Tantalus. He thinks not
of that kelper in winter, plunging and struggling
with the slippery tangles amid the turmoil of the
surf, but dreams only of quiet summer days and
the gray glimmer of sunlit waters seen through a
veil of drifting; smoke.

The links roll down in long, green billows from

Kelp-hurning.

the ruins of an old feudal castle, where the brown
rabbit is the door- ward, and in whose towers the
starling nests unscared — roll down to a little bay,
where the long waves of the Atlantic come up un-
ceasingly, curving in great, green arches, before they
break in thunder of white foam on the brown rocks
and yellow sand. Where the grass is thin and scant
the sand shines through, and this makes a bad dry-

232 Among the Kelpers.

ing-green, as kelp is of less value when mixed with
sand. But here is a short, close turf, nibbled upon
by rabbits, a racing -ground for lambs, where the
thrift or sea-pink meets the meadow-clover, and thyme
and crowfoot break in ripples of purple and gold
to sweeten all the summer air.

Than this a better drying-green cannot be found.
On one side of the bay a long stretch of Hat rocks
runs down from the grass to the sea, and they too
are utilized, when tides allow, to dry the seaweed.
Here, in May and June, the whole air tingles with
the song of larks innumerable. Long before sunrise,
before the last stars have faded in the west, they are
up, weaving a magical garment of song over all the
green land. All day and far into the dim twilight
that is our northern night they sing without ceasing.
Larks are everywhere. In that tuft of grass at our
feet is a nest with four of the dusky-brown eggs
which hold next year's music. There, in the ditch by
the roadside, is another nest, from which the feather-
less young raise feeble necks to gape for food, showing
their yellow tongues with the three black spots, which
children here are told will appear on the tongue of
that child who takes the laverock's nest. Again, a
fledgeling, speckled like a toad, rises suddenly from the
clover and flies a few yards, while its anxious parents
circle close overhead with little tremulous bursts of
song, or flutter with trailing wing along the grass.

That pretence of a broken wing, which now seems
to be an instinct, must surely at first have been arrived
at by a process of reasoning. There must have been
long since a broken wing, and a boy, or a dog, or
a snake to chase the fluttering suflerer, and some

Among the Kelpers. 233

wise observer among the mother-birds o£ that for-
gotten day to see and make a note of the chase,
and with the heart-leap of a happy inspiration to find
in it a new method of protecting her eggs and tender
young, and to hand down the lesson she learned to
our blithesome bird of the wilderness.

But this summer world, so thrilled with lark music,
is not held by the lark alone in fee. From every dry-
stone wall young starlings are calling, " Chirr ! chirr !
chirr ! " and the old birds hurry to and fro between
their nests and the brown fields, soon to w^ave with
oats and here, where they gather the insects and grubs
their younglings love. Their bronze feathers gleam
in the sunshine as they pass, and at their harsh note
of warning as they see strangers near their homes the
tumult of the young birds among the stones is in-
stantly hushed. The farmer owes these cheerful and
busy birds a heavy debt of gratitude, as the number of
his insect enemies which they destroy is incalculable.

On the smooth turf the dried ware is piled in
conical heaps, like giant molehills, to preserve it from
the heavy night dews and from possible rain, and
among the brown hillocks the wheatear bobs up
and down, flirting his tail and repeating his cheerful
" Tchk ! tchk ! chek-o ! chek-o ! " At times the rap-
ture of summer and of his love inspire him with a
vain desire of song. Up he goes, as if he were in
very deed the skylark he takes as his model, uttering
harsh and unmelodious notes — a feeble travesty of
the golden rain of song that falls from the blue
above him. But his flight extends upwards only a
yard or two, and he sinks down again, chuckling to
himself, as pleased with his song as any minor poet.

234 Among the Kelpers.

As the day wears down to afternoon the corncrakes
begin to call from the young grass, and all night long
they answer each other from field to field. Speak of
them to the kelpers, and everywhere one hears the
same story of their hibernation in old walls. That
landrails migrate has been proved beyond question,
but equally beyond question does it seem that some
few sleep out the winter here. Any kelper will tell
how he, or if not he himself then some one of his
neighbours, once in winter found a corncrake in some
old dyke, to all appearance dead. He carried it home,
and, laying it before the fire, watched the death-like
trance slowly melt into life and motion.

As to the winter sleep I can only speak at second-
hand ; but I have seen the birds in summer run like
rats into the dry-stone dykes with which our crofters
so love to encumber and adorn their land. That these
d3d^es can be meant only for ornament is evident to
the most casual observer in this land where ponies,
cows, sheep, ay, and the very geese, are ofttimes
tethered by the leg.

Yet if the dykes serve no other purpose, they pro-
vide nesting-places for the starling and the wheatear,
for the rock-pipit and the sparrow, which save the
crops of the crofter from destruction by grub and fly.
Mice also shelter in them, and rats in those islands
where rats are found. In the happy isle of which I
write no rat can live. They come ashore time and
again from vessels touching at the little pier near the
village, but where they go or what fate awaits them
none can tell — only this, that they are seen no more
on the green lap of the world.

But we have left the ware too long in the sun.

Among the Kelpers. 235

Should rain come, the kelper sees much of his profit
melt away, for the salt which it causes to crystallize
on the dried weed wastes, and what is left makes
inferior kelp. All along the edges of the drying-
greens are the burning pits or kilns — hollows for all
the world like huge plovers' nests in shape, lined with
flat blue stones from the beach. They are about two
feet deep and some ^ve feet in diameter.

When the ware is ready to be burned a smoulder-
ing peat or a handful of lighted straw is laid in the
bottom of the pit. Over this dry ware is piled, slowly
at first till the fire catches, and ever more rapidly as
the red core of smouldering flame waxes.

Sometimes ware and tangles are burned separately,
but more frequently the kelper burns them together.
The tangles make the stronger and better kelp. The
pit is filled, and the ware or tangles are piled on till
the mass rises two feet or more above the level of the
earth. Then for six or eight hours it must be care-
fully watched and tended, and ever new fuel piled on
to prevent a burst of flame. When tangles are being
burnt alone, the kelper finishes oflf his pit with dried
ware, as otherwise the tougher knots and lumps of the
latest burned tangles would not be thoroughly con-
sumed.

Each pit holds about half a ton, and takes the
best part of a summer day to burn, the actual time
depending on the state of the wind and the condition
of the weed. When at last it smoulders low, it is
" raked " before being left to cool. One man takes a
spade with a very small blade and a handle fully
seven feet long, the lower half being of iron ; two
other workers, as often women as men, have " rakes/'

236 Among the Kelpers.

implements not unlike a rough caricature of a golfer's
iron, but with handles as long as that of the spade.
With these rakes the kelp is mixed and smoothed,
while the spadesman turns it up from the bottom
of the pit. Hard work it is and hot, great jets of
flame shooting out under the spade from what looks
like gray crumbling earth mingled with black ashes
and white quartz ; for the kelp assumes so many
colours and forms that to describe it accurately were
impossible. As the kelper turns and tosses the glow-
ing mass on a warm June evening, he knows he has
come near the end of that labour which began in
the gray winter dawn, when the rolls of red-weed
lashed about him amid the roaring backwash of the
waves.

When the kelp has been sufficiently mixed, the pit
is levelled and smoothed over, all the outlying ashes
are swept in with a handful of dry ware, and it is left
to cool and harden. Then, as the kelpers turn home-
wards, the white sea fog creeps up by the rocks where
all day long the kelp smoke drifted.

Such is the work of the kelper, and such the places
of his toil. An easy and a pleasant life it is compared
to that of the men who labour in the bowels of the
earth or in the great manufactories of smoke-darkened
cities. He has the green turf under his foot and the
clear sky over him, the sea makes music for hnn
unceasingly, and the salt winds bring him health and
strength. The furred and feathered folks share his
land with him, and gather their harvest on the same
shores. As he goes to his work in the morning,
through the silver mists of dawn, a flock of blue rock-
doves with great clatter of wings flasli off through the

Among the Kelpers. 237

clear air. The redshank pipes shrilly at him from the
copestone of the nearest wall, and over the ploughed
fields where their precious eggs are lying the pewits
wheel and scream. " Pewit-weet ! pee-weet ! " — their
note has in it for the isles folk, to whom the cuckoo
is but a name, the very voice of spring and hope and
love. The ringed plover stands motionless on his
three-toed yellow feet, calling with his sweet, low
note, and invisible save to the keenest eye until he
makes a little run and betrays himself. Linnets
swing and sing on the swaying thistles and among
the heather. On the blue waters of the bay a little
fleet of eider ducks is afloat, and their curious, hoarse,
barking chuckle rolls up over the waters. Perhaps a
seal raises his round head, shining like a bottle, and
gazes with mild eyes at the men upon the beaches ;
while overhead gulls and terns swing past, cleaving
the strong air with careless wing. Far out to sea the
white gannets hawk to and fro. Suddenly one poises
in mid-air for a moment, then drops like a stone into
the water, a fountain of white spray flashing up in
the sunlight as he disappears. Your kelper will tell
you how in his younger days he caught the solan
geese by means of a herring fastened to a board
and sunk a few inches below the surface of the water.
The bird sees the fish, poises, and swoops down only
to drive his mighty bill through the board and break
his neck.

Nearer shore than the gannets the kittiwakes are
fishing, when suddenly there glides among them a
dusky skua, who forces the luckiest fisher to drop his
spoil; which the ravager catches in mid-air and bears
oflf. A true pirate of the air is the skua, and reminds

238 Among the Kelpers.

me always of those low, dark feluccas so dreadful
and so dear to the sailor on the high seas of romance.
Far up in the blue ether a peregrine falcon sweeps
round, circling wide on motionless, outspread wings,
or a raven goes croaking from the cliffs to seek a
prey, as he may have done for years unnumbered.
If the tradition of his longevity may be believed,
that dark corbie who flies croaking over the kelpers
toiling in the morning sunlight, and sees the white
smoke rise from their harmless kilns — what fires may
he not have seen upon these beaches, and what strange
smoke of sacrifice go up from forgotten altars to the
unchanging heavens ? Give him even a shorter lease
of life than that which tradition assigns him, and still
he may remember the blazing beacons leap up to
carry from isle to isle a warning of the coming of
Norse invaders. Allow him only two short centuries,
and yet he must have watched the smoke of many a
burning homestead in the days when the followers of
the " Wee, wee German Lairdie " avenged their private
wrongs in the name of their king. The older men
among the kelpers still tell tales of the Jacobite lairds
who lay hid like conies in the clefts of the rocks till
these calamities were overpast.

The old stories — the folk-tales of the isles — linger
fragmentary among the kelping people. One may
hear from them how all the fairies were seen to leave
some island riding on tangles, and how they all went
down in the windy firth, never to be seen again of
mortals. Here is a man, bowed and crippled by
rheumatism, who w411 tell how he was shot in the
back by a " hill-ane " when ploughing. He saw not
his assailant, but only the shadow of him on the

Among the Kelpers. 239

earth. Another old man remembers having his side
hurt as a boy, and going to a " wise woman "to be
cured. She told him he had been " forespoken " —
that is, bewitched — by a woman then dead, and made
him drink water mixed with earth from the " fore-
speaker's " grave. She then put a hoop covered with
a sheep's skin on his head, a basin of water on that,
and poured melted lead through the head of a key
into the water, giving the patient a piece of the lead
in the form of a heart as a charm. The cure wrouoht
by this modern Noma was not, however, effectual.

There are many quaint and even beautiful turns
of speech among these hard-working crofters. Their
faces shine on my memory red like setting suns
through the white reek of the kelp pits. Here is
one whose fathers fled from Perthshire after " the
'45," and who thinks that some day he would like to
go back to see the old place again — the " old place "
which none of his have looked upon for one hundred
and forty years ! He toils night and day in summer
cultivating his croft, fishing for lobsters, and making
kelp. His rent is perhaps seven or eight pounds.
Books, you would think, must be unknown to him ;
yet he will tell you he has " always been a great
reader of Sir Walter Scott's works," and under the
spell of that mighty wizard his hard life has budded
and wreathed itself with romance.

At the next pit is a man of a very different type.
Quiet and slow, this man has led an honest life, with
an eye ever to the main chance. Pressed once for an
answer to some question important to the settling of a
kelp dispute, after vain attempts at evasion, he burst
out, " Gie me time, Mr. Blank, to wind up me mind."

240 Among the Kelpers.

Across the bay the pits are watched by an old
bachelor — a rara avis among the kelpers — a little,
clean-shaven, mouse -like man, who has "money in
the bank." He holds a croft where his ancestors
have dwelt longer than the memory of man extends.
The peat fire smouldering on his hearth has, to his
certain knowledge, burned unquenched for two hun-
dred years. How much longer ago it was kindled
tradition recordeth not. Every night his last work
is to "rest" that precious fire, and every morning
it claims his earliest care. All his life he has toiled,
gathering a harvest both from land and sea, and a
harvest of content and happiness as well, such as
few crofters know how to reap. "When I come
oot on a fine simmer morning at four o'clock wi'
never anither reek but me ain, I'm laird o' a' the
land as far as I can see." He has the secret of the
lordship of the eye, which can give to a penniless
man more profit of the pleasant earth than to the
greatest lord of land among them all.

Look at this fellow, gaunt, black, and shaggy ; he
might be one of PuncJis Scotch elders. Asked if he
remembered some event of thirty years ago — " No,
sir," he said. " Ye see, I wasna at hame then ; I was
divin' in the face o' the sea for a livin'." He had
been a fisherman, and quite naturally chose to say so
in this poetic phrase.

These are only a few from among the many typical
kelpers whose friendship I am proud to own. But if
the types among them are many and various, in one
thing they are all alike — their capacity for hard work.
That work does not cease with the smoothing over of
the smouldering pits. When the kelp has cooled it is

Among the Kelpers. 241

broken up and lifted out o£ the pit in great lumps
which look like gray slag, with streaks of white, blue,
and brown running through it. Should it be exposed
to rain its quality is much deteriorated, and to avoid
this danger storehouses are built by the lairds, to
which the kelp is carted. The kelp grieve weighs
each man's quantity as it is brought in, and he is paid
a fixed sum per ton. When a sufficient quantity is
gathered in the store a vessel is chartered, and where
there is a pier the kelp is carted alongside. In
islands where there is no pier it must be taken off
in small boats. The kelpers themselves provide the
carriage. Then the sails are spread, and the produce
of the year's work is carried off to chemical works far
over sea, where, by processes unknown to me, iodine
is extracted from it. The kelper receives about two
pounds ten shillings for each ton of kelp he manufac-
tures, and the importance and benefit of the industry
to these crofters cannot be overestimated. I have
known a man paying a rent of eight pounds receive
thirty-four pounds for his kelp in one year. Nor is
the actual price he receives the only benefit the crofter
derives from kelp. Were it not for the share of the
profit falling to the laird, he too often could not, in
these days, afford to assist his tenants in improving
either their houses or their land. On the whole, then,
the kelpers lot is not an unhappy one. His work
lies in pleasant places, and it is eminently healthy, and
liis days, as a rule, are long in the land and on

the sea.

Duncan J. Robertson.
(" Longman's Magazine. " By permission.)

(1,384) 1 6

A WHALE-HUNT IN ORKNEY.

'HALES in the bay so soon
in the season ! " exclaimed
the clergyman, starting to
his feet. " Come away," he
continued, "you have yet
another day before you ; we
imitate the great of old,
who entertained their guests with tournaments."

The manse garden commanded a fine view of Mill
Bay, and on rushing out into the open air we saw a
long dark line of boats, some with sails and some
with oars, stretching across the blue waters of the
broad voe, upwards of a mile from the shore. The
practised eye of my host caught the gleam of dorsal
fins in front of the boats, and we immediately hurried
down to the beach, scarcely drawing breath till we
stood on the bank above the sands of Mill Bay. The
inmates of the neighbouring cottages had already
assembled in eager groups on the grassy downs, and
other islanders still came flocking from remoter farms
and cabins to the shore. Several of the men were
armed with harpoons, while farm lads flourished over
their shoulders formidable three-pronged " graips "
and long-hafted hayforks.

Many of the matrons had their heads encased in

A Whale=hunt in Orkney. 243

woollen " buities," and this peculiar headdress imparted
a singular picturesqueness to the excited groups on
the sea -bank. Other boats with skilled hands on
board put off from various points along the shore,
and the fleet of small craft in the bay was rapidly
increased by the arrival of fresh yawls. The crowd
of urchins on the beach, who " thee'd " and " thou'd "
each other like little Quakers in the Orcadian vernac-
ular, cheered lustily as boat after boat hove in view
round the headlands, swelhng the fleet of whalers.

The line of boats was now little more than a quarter
of a mile from the beach. The bottle-nosed or ca'ing
whales, showing their snouts and dorsal fins at inter-
vals, seemed to advance slowly, throwing out skir-
mishers and cautiously feeling their way. As the
beach was smooth and sandy, with a gentle slope, the
boatmen in pursuit were endeavouring to drive the
" school " into the shallows, where harpoons, hayforks,
and other weapons could be used to advantage.

The excitement of the spectators on land increased
as the lono^ line of the sea-monsters drew closer inshore.
From the boats there came wafted across the water
the sound of beating pitchers and rattling rowlocks,
and the hoarse chorus of shouting voices. This babel
of noises, which the water mellowed into a wild war-
chant with cymbal accompaniment, was meant to scare
the " school " and hasten the stranding of the whales.
But an incident occurred that changed the promising
aspect of aflairs, turned the tide of battle, and gave
new animation to the scene.

Eager to participate in the expected slaughter, two
or three farm lads, whose movements had escaped
notice, suddenly shot ofl" from the shore in a skiff

244 A Whale=hunt in Orkney

rowing right in front of the advancing line. The
glitter and splash of oars alarmed the leaders, and
the entire "school," seized with a sudden panic, wheeled
round and dashed at headlong speed into the line of
pursuing boats.

A shout rose from the shore as the flash of tail-
fins, the heaving of the boats, and the rapid strokes
of the boatmen showed all too plainly the escape of
the whales, and the success of their victorious charge.
Away beyond the broken line of the fleet they
plunged in wild stampede, striking the blue waters
into spangles of silver foam. Arches of spray, blown
into the air at wide distances apart, served to indicate
the size of the " school " and the speed of the fugitives.

" Whew ! " exclaimed my reverend friend, " that was
a gallant charge, and deserved to succeed ; but I hope
our brave lads will yet put salt upon their tails. The
boatmen have toiled hard for their share of the fish,
and great would be the pity if the whales made right
ofi" to the open sea. It is not every day that a ' drave '
a hundred strong visits our shores, and there they go
round the head of Odness in full career."

A commotion among the crowd at a short distance
along the beach here arrested our attention. The
exciting spectacle of the grand charge and wild flight
of the whales had so absorbed our gaze that we failed
to notice a mishap which was fortunately more ludi-
crous than alarming. The three youths who foolishly
rowed ofi" from the shore and caused the stampede
had suffered for their rashness by getting their skifi"
capsized when the sea-monsters wheeled round to the
charge. On gaining the outskirts of the crowd, we
found the three luckless whale-hunters already beached.

A Whale=hunt in Orkney. 245

Bonne tl ess, dripping, and disconsolate, they were the
objects of mirth to some, of commiseration to others.

At last they made off, and we immediately set out
in the direction of Odness to catch a sight of the
whales, which had quite disappeared from the bay.
The boats had turned in pursuit when the " school "
escaped, and they were now making all haste to
double the headland. On gaining the top of the
cliffs, we were glad to observe that the whales,
recovered from their fright, drifted leisurely along
the coast, giving way at times to eccentric gambols.

" All right ! " cried my friend, handing me back my
binocular; "they are coasting away famously round
Lamb Head, and they are almost certain to take a
snooze in Rousholm Bay, which is the best whale-trap
I know in Orkney. Let us sit down here on the top
of the cliffs till the boats come abreast, and then we
shall take a nearer way to Rousholm than following
the coast."

The summit of the rocks, softly carpeted with
grass, moss, and wild flowers, afforded a pleasant
resting-place, and commanded a picturesque prospect.
To eastward there was a wide expanse of sea, stretch-
ing away without a break to the Norwegian fiords.
The whale-hunting fleet, composed of all varieties of
small craft, was soon well abreast of our resting-place.
A fine and favourable breeze had sprung up, and fish-
ing-yawls, with their brown sails outspread, coasted
briskly along. The rearguard of the fleet consisted
of row-boats manned by patient and determined boat-
men, who pulled hard at the oars in the prospect of
winning some share of the spoil. We remained a
short time on the moss-crowned cliffs gazing on the

246 A Whale=hunt in Orkney.

animated scene, and listening to the voices of the
boatmen, the plash of the waves below, and the plaint
of restless sea-birds. On leaving our lair we dropped
down upon a neighbouring farmhouse, where a couple
of " shelties " were placed at our disposal, and away we
trotted along field-paths and rough tracks to the head
of Rousholm Bay, on the south side of the island.
From all the cottages and farms in the district the
islanders were flocking to the shore of the bay, and
we thus had good hope that a portion of the school
at least had run blindfold into the whale -trap of
Rousholm. On nearing the shore we were delighted
to find that our hope was fulfilled. A large detach-
ment of the whales, supposed to number one hundred
and fifty, had entered the bay, while the rest of the
school had disappeared amid the reaches of the Stron-
say Firth.

Rounding the point of Torness, and stretching
across the mouth of the bay, the fleet of small craft
again hove into view, and pressed upon the rear of
the slowly advancing and imprisoned whales. Among
the onlookers there was now intense excitement, the
greatest anxiety being manifested lest the detached
wing should follow the main army, and again break
the line of boats in a victorious charge. The shout-
ings and noise of the boatmen recommenced, and
echoed from shore to shore of the beautiful and
secluded bay. A fresh alarm seized the monsters,
but instead of wheeling about and rushing off" to the
open sea as before, they dashed rapidly forwards
a few yards, pursued by the boats, and were soon
floundering helplessly in the shallows.

The scene that ensued was of the most exciting

A Whale = hunt in Orkney. 247

description. Fast and furious the boatmen struck
and stabbed to right and left; while the people on
the shore, forming an auxiliary force, dashed down to
assist in the massacre, wielding all sorts of weapons.
The wounded monsters lashed about with their tails,
imperilling life and limb, and the ruddy hue of the
water along the stretch of shore soon indicated the
extent of the carnage. Some of the larger whales
displayed great tenacity of life ; but the unequal con-
flict closed at last, and no fewer than a hundred and
seventy carcasses were dragged up on the beach.

One or two slight accidents occurred, but to me it
seemed marvellous that the boatmen did not injure
each other as much as the whales amid the confusion
and excitement of the scene. The carcasses, as I was
informed, would realize between £300 and £400 ; and
grateful were the people that Providence had remem-
bered the island of Stronsay, by sending them a
wonderful windfall of bottle -noses fresh from the
confines of the Arctic Circle.

Daniel Gorhie {''Summers and Winters in the Orkneys").

iVreck at Burgh Head, Stronsay.

ARTICLES MADE OF STRAW.

^HE Orkney peasantry of two
centuries ago lived in a poor
country — a country ground
down by the tyranny of
greedy and unscrupulous rulers ;
a country whose inhabitants
had neither the raw materials
from which to construct many necessary utensils nor
the money to purchase them. It is interesting to note
some of the ways in which our forefathers overcame
the circumstances in which they were placed. One
of the most notable is the ingenious use of straw
for the construction of many domestic utensils.

The materials from which articles of straw were
made were principally hent and the straw of black
oats. The bent, after being cut, was loosely bound
into rough sheaves and left to dry and wither. It
was then bound into neat sheaves called heats, the
legal size of which used to be two spans in circum-
ference. Each beat was carefully pleated at the
upper end, gradually tapering upwards into a cord
which served to bind two beats together. The pair
of beats so fastened was called a " band of bent,"
twelve of which formed a " thrave." From this bent
were made the cords, always called hands, which

Articles made of Straw. 249

were used in the manufacture of straw. During the
long winter evenings each ploughman was required
to wind into bands one beat of bent. The cord
was spun or twisted by the fingers, the two strands
being each twisted singly, and at the same time laid
into each other in such a way that the tendency of
the strands to untwist was the means of keeping the
two firmly twisted together.

The straw used was that of the common Orkney
black oats, which was at once tougher and more
flexible than that of other cultivated kinds. The
straw to be used was not threshed with the flail,
which would have spoiled it, but was selected from
the sheaves, held in a bunch between the hands, and
beaten on some hard edge to remove the grain.
Such straw was called gloy. From those two
materials, bent bands and gloy, a very wide variety
of indispensable articles were manufactured by the
Orkney farmer.

These articles may be divided into three classes —
flexible, semi-flexible, and inflexible. Of the flexible
type, the most simple and primitive article was the
sooJccm, or, to give it a still older name, the wislin.
This was simply straw twisted loosely into a thick
cord of one strand, for temporary use. If not at
once used to tie round somethino-, it had to be wound
into a clew to preserve its twist.

A very common use of sookans in the winter-time
was to form what were known as " straw boots." A
loop of the sookan was passed round the instep, over
the shoe or rivlin, the thick straw cord being then
wound round the ankles and the lower part of the
leg. When the snow was deep, such straw boots

250 Articles made of Straw.

formed a very comfortable part of the peasant's
attire. Less than a century ago, on a Sunday when
the snow lay deep on the ground, more than forty
men wearing straw boots were seen in one Orkney
church. It must be added that on the way home
some of them were severely reproved by a neighbour
for having performed this unnecessary labour on the
Sabbath day !

Next in order comes simmans. This was a strong
straw rope made of two strands, also twisted by
hand, and rolled into great balls or clews, the size of
which was the width of the barn door. The main
use of simmans was to thatch the corn stacks, and
also the roofs of the cottages. A newly-thatched
cottage, with the bright warm colour of the new
straw ropes, was a pleasing object in an Orkney
landscape. The sombre colour given when the
simmans were twisted of brown heather was less
cheerful, but Nature did her best even here by her
decoration of the low walls with bright yellow and
green lichens.

Most of the ropes and cordage required by the
Orkney farmer were made either of hair or of bent.
The bent bands already noticed were made into ropes
on a rude machine called a tethergarth, and were
used for tethering cattle and sheep, and for "boat
tethers " for small fishing-boats. Finer bent ropes
were applied to a great many uses, such as flail
" hoods," sheep shackles, and all parts of horse harness.
A very important part of this, the collar or ivazzie,
was formed by twisting four thick folds of straw
together ; and, when properly made, I suspect the
wazzie was much cooler for the horse than the

Articles made of Straw. 251

modern collar with its absurd cape. Even the plough-
traces were made of bent ropes, which, if quickly
worn, were easily replaced. For bringing m the crop,
a large net made of bent cord, and called a mazie,
was put round a bundle of sheaves, and suspended,
one on each side of the horse, from the horns of the
clihher, a rough kind of wooden pack-saddle.

Flachies, or mats made of straw bound together
with bent cord, were used for many purposes.
Small ones were used as door-mats, and large ones
were hung up as an apology for an inner door.
Horse flackies were laid over the back of the horse
to protect it from the friction of the clibber, and
his sides from the load which it supported. Flackies
were also fixed on the rafters, under the straw, when
thatching house roofs.

We next come to what I have called the semi-
fiexible class of straw articles. The first to be noticed
is the haesie, which, in various shapes and sizes, was
put to a great number of uses. It was made of
straw, bound by bent cord, like the flackie, but was
of a closer texture, and it was usually in the shape
of a basket. The r)ieils-kaesie was so called, because
it was made to hold a " meil " of corn — that is, a
little over a hundredweight.

It was in these meils-kaesies that the corn was
carried to the mill, and the meal brought back from
it ; for carts were unknown, and roads were but paths
or tracks. Each horse carried a full kaesie on either
side. The horses travelled in single file, the head
of each being tied to the tail of the one in front.
A man was in charge of each pair of horses, to
attend to the proper balancing of their loads. A

252 Articles made of Straw.

train of twenty or thirty horses marching in this
way was a picturesque sight. On arriving at the
mill, the burdens were removed, and the head of the
foremost horse was tied to the tail of the hindmost,
which prevented their moving away until their
drivers were ready to return home.

Next may be mentioned the corn-kaesie, which
was used to hold dressed grain. These were shaped
somewhat like a barrel, and were made in various
sizes. Then comes the common kaesie, used for
carrying burdens on the back. These also were of
different sizes. In form they were narrow and
rounded at the bottom, and widened gradually to-
wards the top, which was finished by a stiff circular
rim called the fesgar, to give firmness to the basket.
To the fesgar were fastened the ends of a bent rope
of suitable length, called the fettle, by which the kaesie
was suspended from the shoulders of the bearer.

To the same class as the kaesies belong the
cubbies, the names and uses of which are legion.
These were smaller than the former, and firmer in
texture, while the shapes showed more variety, as
might be needed for their special uses. We need
only mention a few. The windo' or winnowing
cubbie was used to pour out the corn gently on
the barn floor, while the wind blowing in at one
door and out at the other carried away the chaff
The sawin' or sowing cubbie carried the seed corn
in spring. The horse cubbie was used as a muzzle
for a horse when necessary. The hen cubbie was
suspended as a nest for the domestic fowls. The
use of the spoon cubbie, which hung by the side of
the fire, needs no explanation. The bait cubbie and

Articles made of Straw. 253

the sea cubbie must close our list, the former used
for carrying bait, and the latter for the catch of
fish. A cubbie was always carried by the beggars
who swarmed before the introduction of the poor
law, and to "tak' the cubbie and the stafi*" was a
phrase meaning to be forced to beg one's bread.

We now come to what I have called inflexible
articles. Here we may mention first the hippie,
once in universal use for holding all sorts of dry
materials, such as meal, burs tin, eggs, and the like.
Luppies were round and barrel -shaped, close in
texture, and as firm as a board. They varied much
in size, beino- made from about ten inches to three
feet in height. They had a rim round the lower end
to protect the bottom, and two "lugs" at the top.
Those of the smallest size were used by housewives
as work-baskets.

The work on these luppies, and on the straw stools
to be mentioned next, was considered the finest and
most durable. Small coils or gangs of straw were
firmly and closely laced over one another. The
lacing cord was of the strongest bent, and the project-
ing ends of the bent were carefully clipped off". These
bands were known as stool hands.

We now come to the straw stools or chairs, which
were mainly of three kinds. The first was a sort
of low, round stool without any back. Such a stool
could be easily lifted to or from the fireside, and
on an emergency could be instantly converted into
a luppie by simply being turned upside down. The
next was called the low-backed stool, having a semi-
circular back reaching to the shoulders of the sitter.
Last comes the high-backed or hooded stool, which

254 Articles made of Straw.

was the easy-chair of the Orkney cottage. In later
times the seat was always made of wood, in the form
of a square box, with a slightly projecting top.
Strips of wood were used to support the front edges
of the back, and to form elbow rests in front of
these. The seat box usually contained a drawer, in
which the goodman kept his supply of snuff, and
perhaps the few books which made up the cottage
library. This form of chair, which is now regarded
as the orthodox one, was invented in the middle of
the eighteenth century by a native of North Ronald-
say, . as the construction of the seat of wood took
far less time than working it all in straw ; but the
older form, with its circular straw seat, and the side
slips and elbow rests entirely covered with straw and
bent cords, was much more elegant in the lines of its

form.

Walter Trail Dennison.
{Adapted from " Orcadian Papers.")

Making a straw-hacked choAr.

THE WEATHER OF ORKNEY.

FOREIGN writer has said that Eng-
lishmen grumble more at their
weather than at anything else,
while it is really the only thing
about their country of which
they might be proud. His mean-
ing is that, compared with other
regions of the w^orld, the climate of Great Britain
is singularly free from disagreeable extremes of
heat or cold, and of drought or flood. And if this
is true of Great Britain as a whole, it is especially
true of Orkney. In summer we rarely suffer from
heat, and in winter we are equally free from extreme
cold. The mean temperature of the whole year in
Orkney (4 5 '4°) is little below that of Aberdeen
(46-3°), of Alnwick in Northumberland (46'3°), or
of Kew near London (4 9 "4°).

The equability of our temperature, or its freedom
from all extremes of heat and cold, is due to the
influence of the sea. The temperature of the ocean
varies only about 13° during the year; it is lowest
in February, being 41*6°, while that of the air is
3 8 '6°, and is highest in August, being 54-5°, while
that of the air is 54°.

256 The Weather of Orkney.

The smallness of the difference between the annual
mean temperature of Orkney and that of Kew is really
due to the mildness of our winters. Taking the mean
of the three winter months, we find that of Orkney
to be almost the same as that of Kew, and slightly
higher than that of Alnwick. For the three summer
months, however, Orkney is three degrees colder than
Alnwick and eight degrees colder than Kew. The
hottest day in Orkney during the last thirty years
only reached 76°, while at Kew 92° was recorded.

The extent to which the sea influences our climate
can best be seen by comparing it wdth that of an
inland or continental station of similar latitude.
Winnipeg, in the province of Manitoba, formerly well
known to Orkney men as Fort Garry in the Red
River Settlement, lies in nearly the same latitude as
London. Its mean temperature, however, during the
three winter months is only 0*9°, or thirty-one degrees
below freezing-point, and thirty-eight degrees lower
than that of Orkney ; in summer it is 6Q°, or thirteen
degrees above that of Orkney.

Not only is our climate ruled by the sea ; it is
ruled by a sea whose waters are themselves somewhat
warmer than their latitude might lead us to expect.
The temperature of the ocean is often affected by
currents, bringing water either from warmer or from
colder regions. In the case of the ocean waters round
our coasts, the movement is from the south-west.
This movement is due at first to the Gulf Stream,
which carries a great mass of warm water from the
Gulf of Mexico into the North Atlantic, and after-
wards to a surface drift caused by the prevailing
south- westerly winds.

The Weather of Orkney. 257

Our coast waters are therefore somewhat warmer
than they would be if there were no such movement,
and much warmer than if there were a current
in the opposite direction, sweeping along the shores
of Norway from the northern ocean. If we compare
our climate with that of Nain, in Labrador, which lies
in nearly the same latitude, and is also on the Atlantic
coast, we shall see how much depends upon the ocean
currents. The cold Arctic current which washes the
Labrador coast, bringing with it melting icebergs,
snow, and fog, reduces the mean annual temperature
of Nain to less than 26°, more than nineteen degrees
below that of Orkney.

While the climate of oceanic islands is benefited by
the equable temperature of the ocean, it is often
marked by excessive moisture and rainfall. Yet
even in this matter we shall see that Orkney has
little to complain of, while, of course, serious droughts
are practically unknown.

Scotland, though small in area, shows great inequal-
ity in the distribution of its rainfall, due to the
diversity of its surface and to the fact that most of
its rain is brought by westerly winds. Districts near
the west coast, especially if mountainous, have a much
greater rainfall than those towards the east, which are
also on the whole less elevated. Thus considerable
portions of the West Highlands have an annual rain-
fall of over 80 inches, Ben Nevis recording over 150.
Many parts of the eastern Lowlands, on the other hand,
have only 30 inches or less ; and Cromarty, which is
the driest station in Scotland, has only 23 inches.

Compared with the mainland of Scotland, then, it
does not seem that the climate of our islands gives us

(1.384) 17

258 The Weather of Orkney.

much cause for grumbling, for our annual rainfall
varies from 3 7 '7 inches at Sandwick to 30-7 at Start
Point in Sanday. Our wettest months are October,
November, and December, during which we receive
from one-third to one-half of our yearly rainfall ; our
driest months are April, May, and June, which to-
gether give us only one-eighth of the total.

One fact about rain is sometimes overlooked : in
cool climates rain brings heat. This may not be
noticeable at the time, but its general effect can be
observed. Just as it requires heat to turn water into
vapour, and as evaporation always produces cold, so
the change back again from vapour into water sets free
some of this heat, raising the temperature of the air,
of the rain itself, and of the land on which it falls.
Much of the warming effect of our westerly winds is
due not to the direct warmth of the Gulf Stream, as
used to be supposed, but simply to the fact that these
winds are rain-carrying winds. They thus bring to
us the benefit of that solar heat which far away to
the south-west caused the vapour to rise from the
surface of the ocean.

The chief difference between our weather and that
of Scotland is, perhaps, the greater prevalence of high
winds in Orkney. The land being low, our islands are
swept by the full force of the gales so common in the
North Atlantic. When speaking of winds, it may be
useful to remember the classification which is recog-
nized by the Meteorological Office. A wind moving
at the rate of thirteen miles an hour is called a light
breeze ; forty miles represents the velocity of a moder-
ate gale, and fifty-six miles a strong gale ; seventy-five
miles an hour is the speed of a storm, and ninety

The Weather of Orkney. 259

miles that of a hurricane. We have the record of only
one hurricane, on November 17, 1893, with a velocity
of ninety-six miles. Several gales of over eighty miles
have been experienced, and one summer gale of seventy-
live miles in the year 1890. During the fifteen years
1890 to 1904 three hundred gales were recorded in
Orkney, while Alnwick experienced only one hundred
and fifty-seven, and Valencia, on the west coast of
Ireland, one hundred and thirty for the same period.
Fleetwood, on the coast of Lancashire, however, had a
record of three hundred and six gales during those years.

Every Orcadian must have noticed a type of
weather which is common all the year round, but
especially so in winter. On a blue sky wisps of
cirrus or " mare's - tail " cloud appear in patches.
Gradually these increase till they form a continuous
haze, in which a lunar halo or " broch," and occasion-
ally solar halos or " sun-dogs," may be seen. Then the
wind, which was light and probably westerly, backs
to the southward and eastward, and the sky becomes
threatening. The wind increases, perhaps to a moder-
ate gale, and rain falls heavily. The wind then shifts
towards the south and south-west, increasing in force,
sometimes quite suddenly, or it may change still
further round towards the north. Meantime the
barometer, which has been low and falling, begins to
rise briskly, and the weather clears.

To understand how this common series of weather
changes comes about, a little knowledge of cyclones
is necessary. A cyclone is a movement in the air
resembling a whirlwind; the cyclones of the Indian
Ocean and the China seas, indeed, are real whirlwinds
of the most violent and destructive type. In the

260 The Weather of Orkney.

North Atlantic they exist for the most part as enor-
mous eddies in the great air-ocean, often several
hundreds of miles in diameter, probably rotating with
the force of a gale near the centre, and at the same
time moving forward as a whole at a moderate speed.
A cyclone has been known to keep company with one
of our Atlantic liners during its whole voyage, but
the rate of progress is often less than this.

A cyclone owes its origin to some local excess of
heat, such as might arise from a heavy rainfall, the
heat causing an upward movement in the air. The
inrush of cool air which then follows begins a
circular or whirling motion. The moist air in front
of the cyclone gives up its moisture with the fall in
temperature, causing the rains that are invariably
found in front of such a movement. The air after
the rainfall is dry and warmer, and its ascent keeps
up a partial vacuum or area of low pressure, which
is the centre or vent of the cyclone. It is really the
rainfall in front of the cyclonic system that causes
its forward movement, assisted by the rotation of the
earth. Each space relieved of its moisture forms in
its turn the new centre. A coast-line, or an anti-
cyclonic movement of the air in front of a cyclone,
will alter its course. When one reaches the shores
of Europe, it soon spends itself for want of the
moisture-laden winds in front to keep up the system.

In the northern hemisphere the direction of rota-
tion of a cyclone is opposite to the movement of the
hands of a watch ; in the southern hemisphere it is
in the same direction as the movement of the hands
of a watch. This is the effect of the rotation of the
earth, as will be clear after a little thought on the

The Weather of Orkney. 261

matter. In the North Atlantic the forward motion
of a cyclone is always from the westward to the
eastward ; hence the " storm warnings " which reach
us from the United States.

Our islands lie in the most common track of those
Atlantic cyclones, and the centre of the whirl often
passes over or near the Orkneys. Now if you will
look at the chart or diagram of a typical cyclone as
given here, and suppose it to be moving slowly from

cirro-stratus ^'"'

Overcast S. % FRONT

Strato-Cumulus Pale Moon \ % ^»^

Refraction/^ J Dirty Sky \''sL

Detached / / <

StratO'/Cumulus

(Hard Sky

\'

\nnnL

fPatch

^'"^ l^wdy Cirrus

Diagram of a typical Atlantic cyclone.

south-east to north-west, or suppose yourself to be
moving through it in the opposite direction while it
remains still, you will see how the changes of wind
and weather which we have described must result
from this movement.

During the greater part of the year our weather
is mainly due to a constant procession of those
Atlantic cyclones, great and small, and hence arises
the changeableness of our winds and our weather.
But in the spring we often have weather of a differ-

262 The Weather of Orkney.

ent type. Our winds are then often cold, sometimes
dry, and frequently easterly or northerly in direction
for several days together. Such weather is due to
anti-cyclones — that is, areas of high pressure, from
which the air flows downwards and spreads outwards
in every direction. An anti-cyclone is the opposite of
a cyclone in almost every respect. Its supply of dry
air often comes from the ascending air in the centre
of a cyclone, which has deposited its moisture. At
the meteorological station on Ben Nevis it was some-
times noticed that when an anti-cyclone was stationed
over the south of England, and a cyclone was crossing
the north of Scotland, there w^as an upper air-current
travelling from the latter to the former, and no doubt
supplying the dry air of the anti-cyclone. This is a
type of movement which is usually found over land
rather than sea, and it has not the regular forward
movement of the cyclone.

The last point which we may notice about our
weather is the amount of sunshine which we receive.
At every well-equipped observatory, such as that of
Deerness, there is an instrument which records the
duration of sunshine, hour by hour and day by
day, all the year round. In the matter of sunshine,
Orkney is not so badly treated as we may sometimes
think. The average number of hours of sunshine
each year recorded at Deerness is 1,177, while Edin-
burgh enjoys only 1,166. London is a little better,
with 1,260, while Hastings, on the more favoured
south coast of England, has an average record of 1,780
hours. Our brightest month is May, with an average
of 178 hours of sunshine, and our gloomiest month is
naturally December, with only 20*6 hours.

THE PLACE = NAMES OF ORKNEY.

RKNEY place-names form an attract-
ive subject of study. There is
always some reason why a certain
place received its own particular
name, though that reason may
often be difficult to discover. The
use of a name is, of course^ ta
distinguish one place from other places of a similar
class, and the most obvious way of doing so is to~
refer to some special feature or peculiarity of the
place. In this way arise such names as the Red
Head, the North Sea, the Muckle Water, and Green
Holm. Houses and farms and islands are often
named after the owner.

When people of a different race and language settle
in a country, or when the language changes, as hap-
pened in Orkney after its annexation to Scotland, the
old names may still be used, although when their mean-
ing is unknown or has been forgotten they are apt to
be changed in various ways. People rarely take the
trouble of inventing a new name for a place if they
can find out the name already given to it. Thus if
there had been any Celtic or Pictish inhabitants left
in Orkney when the Norsemen settled there, the Celtic

264 The Place -Names of Orkney.

names of the islands and hills and bays would have
been handed down from them to us. But all the old
place-names in Orkney are Norse, and the only Celtic
elements found in them refer to the settlements and
churches of the Culdees, as we have already men-
tioned.

The Norse place-names are usually descriptive,
based either on the appearance or the situation of the
place, or on the name of its occupier. Such names
have an interest which is entirely wanting in the
modern names given to farms or houses, names which
are often selected for absurd or trivial reasons. There
is little need for inventing any new names in a land
which has been so fully supplied with them already.
For it is not only the various islands and their most
prominent physical features that bear descriptive Norse
names ; hillock and meadow, field and spring, rock,
geo, and skerry — all have been named by our fore-
fathers with names of which the form as w^ell as the
meaning is now in many cases forgotten. Those
names should be regarded as relics entrusted to our
care, and we ought to learn them from the old people
by whom they are still remembered, and preserve them
from alteration or oblivion, as the material relics of
our romantic history are now being preserved from
destruction and decay.

Orkney, the general name of the island group, is
partly Celtic and partly Norse. Pliny, the Roman
geographer, mentions Cape Orcas, probably Duncansby
Head in Caithness, and calls the islands Orcades.
The Celtic Scots called them the Ore Islands, and
southern writers use the form Orcanig. The root
of the name is supposed to be ore, which meant

The Place-Names of Orkney. 265

the bottle-nose whale. The Norse visitors added the
termination -ey, meaning " island."

When the Norsemen settled in these islands, they
gave to each a name in their own language, and these
names have been preserved with little alteration,
though their meaning has generally been forgotten.
Some were named from their configuration or appear-
ance, as Hoy (Ha-ey), the high island ; Flotta {Mat-
ey), the flat island ; Sanday, the sand island ; Eday,
the island of the eith or isthmus ; Burray (Borgar-ey),
the islands of the " brochs." Some were named from
their position, as Westray, the west island ; Auskerry,
the east skerry. Some were named after persons as
Kousay, Eolfs island; Gairsay (Gareksey), Garek's
island ; Graemsay (Grimsey), Grim's island ; Copinsay,
Kolbein's island. The name Binansey, the island
of St. Ninian, often called Ringan, was afterwards
changed to Ronaldsay, w^ith " North " prefixed to
distinguish it from the original Rognvald's island,
now South Ronaldsay. A few were named from
their uses, as Faray, the sheep island ; and Hrossey,
the horse island, an old name for the Mainland
(Meginland), or principal island of the group.

It is very odd to find in books and on maps the Latin
name Pomona applied to this last island — Pomona,
the Roman goddess of harvest-plenty, whose name
was also used to indicate the fruits of the earth.
The explanation seems to be that a mistake was
made by George Buchanan, the greatest Latin scholar
whom Scotland ever produced, in quoting a passage
from Solinus, an old Latin writer. Solinus, speaking
of some island which he calls Thyle or Thule, says
that it is five days' sail from the Orcades, and that it

266 The Place= Names of Orkney.

is large and rich in the constant yield of its harvests
(looinona). Buchanan, who knew much of Latin but
little of either Thule or the Orcades, takes this to
mean that " Thule is large and Pomona is rich and
fertile," and he concludes from this that Pomona must
be the chief island of the Orcades. Thus by a mere
blunder the name " Pomona " was given to the Main-
land ; but there is no good reason why we should
perpetuate this blunder. "Mainland" is the name
which every intelligent Orcadian should use. It is
believed by some that the use of the word loomona
itself is due to another blunder, the mistake of a
copyist, and that what Solinus really wrote was a
contracted form of a word which simply meant fruit.

Our place-names have suffered much from the
blunders of surveyors and map-makers who knew
nothing of the Norse language. Whenever they
found a name which bore some resemblance to an
English word, they immediately changed it into what
they supposed to be its correct English form. A
good example of a name thus " corrected " for us is
that of the place now called "Walls." The proper
name of the district is Waas, and this is the name
which it should bear on the map. But the intelligent
surveyors no doubt knew that there is an English
word " walls " which is pronounced " wa's " in Scot-
land, and so they assumed that the Norse place-name
" Waas " ought to be written and pronounced " Walls."
This is of course an absurd eiTor. " Waas " is a form
of " Voes," a name which is admirably suited to the
district, the land of the voes or bays.

The name of our county town, Kirkwall, has been
similarly disguised by the well-meaning reforms of

The Place = Names of Orkney. 267

ignorant persons. Old j)eople in the islands still call
it " Kirkwaa/' and this is the correct form of the name.
The Peerie Sea was called the " Kirk-voe " long before
St. Magnus Cathedral was built, the name being de-
rived from the old church of St. Olaf, whose doorway
still exists, and this name, applied to the town, natur-
ally changed into " Kirkwaa." It would probably be
impossible now to restore the old name ; we can only
be grateful that our map-makers did not also turn
" kirk " into the English form " church." We may
suspect that the parish name Holm has been similarly
tampered with. The local pronunciation, which is
" Ham," indicates that the name may be derived from
liCifn, a harbour, as in " Hamnavoe " (Hafnarvagr)
and other cases, but has no connection with Jiolr)i,
which means a small island. When the meaning of
hafn had been forgotten, and the local pronunciation
was ignored, the name was naturally supposed to be
connected with the holms which lie off the shore.

A similar intrusion of the letter I is found in
Pierowall, and also in Noltland, in Westray. The
latter is sometimes, and more correctly, written as
" Notland." The Norse name was Nautaland, the
pasture for " nowt " or cattle. The word Pentland
must be our last example of such blunders. To the
Norsemen the Scottish mainland was Pettland, the
land of the Picts ; and even at the present day
Orcadians, who have not been misled by books and
maps, still speak of the " Pettland Firth."

The names of farms or small districts are often
very interesting. A common termination in these is
-bister, which represents the Norse bolstadr, a farm-
steading, the first part of the name usually being

268 The Place -Names of Orkney.

derived from the name of the original owner, as in
" Grimbister " and " Swanbister," the farm of Grim
and of Sweyn. The word is connected with hoi, a
dwelling, which still exists in our local dialect in the
form "beul," meaning a stall in a byre or stable.
Two Norse words, bu and beer, meaning a home or a
household, give rise respectively to the common farm
name Bu, and to several names ending in -by, as
Houseby and Dounby.

The termination -ster or -setter, which is also very
common, represents the Norse word setr ; the name
soeter is still used in Norway for a summer pasture
among the hills at some distance from the farm.
Several of our farms bear the name of Scatter, and
the number of compounds of this word is too large
to need illustration.

Garth, which meant an enclosure, is akin to the
English words yard and garden, and is found in
numerous farm names, sometimes alone, but more
frequently in compounds, where it appears as the
termination -ger, the g being sounded hard. Other
names for enclosed land were quoy (kvi) and town
(tun), and in almost every district we find farm
names in which these words appear. The Norse
skali, a hall, appears as skaill, either alone or as
an element in compound names. There are other
common terminations which might be mentioned,
all of them significant and worthy of study, but
these may suffice to illustrate how full of meaning
and interest our common place-names really are.

We have said that the Norse word for " island "
now appears as the termination -ay or -a. This
termination, however, has in some cases a different

The Place=Names of Orkney, 269

origin, especially where the name does not refer to
an island. Thus in the names Scapa and Hoxa the -a
is a contraction of eith, meaning an isthmus. Scapa
was Skalpeith, the ship-isthmus, and Hoxa was Haugs-
eith, the isthmus of the haug or howe. In the name
of the island of Sanday, the termination means
" island ; " in the name Sanday applied to several
places round Deer Sound, the reference is to the
" Sand aith " or isthmus already mentioned. In
names of places such as Birsay and Swannay, where
a large burn is found, we may conclude that the -ay
represents the Norse -a, meaning a river, as the o
does in Thurso.

As we should expect from a seafaring race, the
Norsemen have left us a very liberal heritage of
names for the various natural features of our shores.
Projecting points of land are called " ness " or " moul "
or " taing," according to their configuration, and even
the less prominent rocks are still known as " clett " or
" skerry," or bear other names which were originally
simple descriptions of their peculiar forms. In the
same way descriptive names were applied to the
water features, and every " voe " and " sound," every
" hope " and " geo " have names which offer us a fine
field for study.

In dealing with this last class of names, there are
two Norse words which may cause us some trouble —
hella, a flat rock, and hellir, a cave, both of which
appear in place-names as hellya, while a third word
helgr, holy, sometimes assumes the same form. It is
impossible to determine what the original form and
meaning of a name have been unless we examine
the place as well as its name.

270

The Place = Names of Orkney.

In studying our place-names, we ought to remem-
ber that the correct names are those that are used by
the old people who live in the district, not those that
are found on the map, or are used by people who
adopt the pronunciation suggested by the spelling.
By means of the knowledge of a few dozen common
Norse roots, and a careful examination of the places
to which the names belong, most of our old-fashioned
place-names may be made to yield up their ancient
meanings, and to throw some light upon the past con-
dition of the islands. When studied in this way, our
pl£|;Ce-names are seen to be fragments of fossil his-
tory, organic remains of an early stratum of society,
as eloquent of the past as are the geological fossils
of the early ages of plant and animal life.

At the quern.

Part in. — Nature Lore.

THE STORY OF THE ROCKS.

" Sermons in Stones."

STONE quarry is a common enough
object in Orkney — so common,
indeed, that we may never have
taken any interest in it. Yet
this common quarry is a place
where we may learn some
strange facts about the making
of our islands, if we visit it in the spirit of one who

" Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."

The quarrymen begin their work by clearing away
the " redd " from the rock beneath. First they remove
the soil. This is dark in colour, not very rich or
deep, perhaps, and not so black as the more fertile
soils of other lands. Yet it contains the plant-food
which nourishes our crops, and thus nourishes our-
selves. The particles are fine and loose, and the
soil is traversed everywhere by the small rootlets
of plants. The dark colour is due to the decayed
substance of past crops of plants, which largely consists

272 The Story of the Rocks.

of carbon. We must try to find out how this soil,
which is so precious to the farmer, has been formed.

Every one knows the difference between the appear-
ance of a new house and that of an old one : in the
former the stones of the walls are clean and sharp, in
the latter they have a weathered, time-worn look.
In graveyards the headstones recently put up have
their inscriptions sharp and clear; the older stones
have their surfaces pitted, and the letters carved
on them are indistinct. Compare the old carvings
and tracery on the outer walls of our cathedral, made
hundreds of years ago, with the clean-cut masonry
of new buildings which stand near it, and you will
see that stones decay with time and moulder away ;
they crumble into dust under the winter's frost and
rains and the heat of the summer sun.

So it is with all the rocks of which the surface
of our islands is made up. Year by year they
moulder away. The dust or earth into which they
break down forms a soil in which plants take root and
grow. The plants push their root fibres downwards,
helping to open up the cracks in the rock ; and when
these roots die and decay their substance mingles
with the soil, giving it that black colour which marks
old fertile soils that have long been cultivated.

Under the soil lies the subsoil — that is, rock which
is half decayed and partly broken up. In course of
time it will become as fine as the soil itself ; for the
subsoil gradually changes into soil. In wet weather
the rain, and in dry weather the wind, carry away the
fine particles of earth from the surface of the fields,
and would sooner or later take away all the fertile
soil ; but the continual action of the weather on the

The Story of the Rocks. 273

subsoil supplies fresh material. Hence, while the old
soil is constantly being removed, new soil is forming
to take its place.

As we see in the quarry, under the soil and the
subsoil there is rock. This is true of all parts of our
country ; there is a rocky skeleton beneath the thin
layer of fertile soil which supports the plants and
animals. In the rocky skerries which are common
along the shores we see the na,ture of the rock-built
framework of the islands. If the soil and subsoil
were swept away, as the waves have swept it from
the skerries, it would be plainly seen that the islands
built up of rocks.

All the rocks of our islands, almost without excep-
tion, were laid down under water. They consist of
three different substances. One is sand, in small
rounded white or yellow grains. Another is clay,
dark gray in colour, very close grained and soft. The
third is lime.

A rock which consists mostly of sand is called sand-
stone. The Eday freestone, which is much used for
putting round the doors and windows of shops and
large buildings, is a sandstone. The common blue
flagstone contains clay mixed with more or less sand.
The sandy beds are coarse, gritt}^, and hard ; the fine-
grained flags contain more clsiy, and are darker in
colour, softer, and smoother on the surface. Nearly
all the fine flags contain lime ; often it is seen in
white shining crystals on the joint-faces of the stones
used in building. The presence of lime in a soil
improves it considerably^

In different parts of Orkney the rocks difler much
in appearance. In one place we find yellow and red

(1,584) 18

274 The Story of the Rocks.

sandstone, in another blue and gray flags, in another
pudding-stone and granite. What is the meaning of
this ? It shows that while the whole area of our
islands was covered with water, gravel was being laid
down at one place, sand or muddy silt at another, and
so on. We can even make out the order in which
the different layers or strata were laid down.

It is done in this way : — Usually the beds of rock
are not now flat but tilted, and show their edges
turned up in a more or less sharp slope. If we
walk along any bare rocky shore we shall find that
bed succeeds bed, each resting on the top of all those
which underlie it. No place could be found to show
this better than the shore of Hoy Sound from Strom-
ness to Breckness. We go on and on, crossing over bed
after bed of rock, till we have passed over the edges of
a pile of flagstone which must be several thousand feet
thick. The same thing can be seen to the east of
Kirkwall, or, in fact, almost anywhere in the islands.

Sometimes the beds dip or slant in diflerent direc-
tions at different parts of the shore. Then again
they may be broken by cracks or faults which bring
different kinds of rock up against one another. If one
could visit the whole of Orkney and examine all the
rocks, making out in what order they follow one
another, how often they are interrupted or repeated
by faults, and what is their inclination or dip, one
could tell exactly the order in which the rocks of
each district were laid down on the bottom of the old
lake where they were formed. This is one of the
tasks which the geologist undertakes ; and though it
looks very difiicult, yet in Orkney it is quite possible
to do so with pretty fair accuracy.

The Story of the Rocks. 275

What is the result ? At the bottom of the whole
we place the granite of Stronmess and Graemsay.
This represents part of the floor of the old lake on
which the gravel and sand and mud were laid down —
the part which stood up above the water as an island.
Next to this we find a thin layer of pudding-stone.
This is formed of the old gravel which gathered on the
beaches and shores around the granite island as it

Cliff shoiving horizontal strata.

was slowly covered over. Above that were laid down
the flagstones of the West Mainland ; then those of
Kirkwall, the East Mainland, and the North Isles ; then
the yellow and red sandstones of Eday, Shapinsay, the
Head of Holland, Deerness, and South Ronaldsay.

The whole series of these rocks must be thousands
of feet thick, and how long they took to form we
cannot conceive.

276 The Story of the Rocks.

Then there is a gap in the series. This means
that for a time the lake was dry land, and instead
of mud and sand being laid down, the rocks which
had been formed were partly washed away by rain
and streams. After a long time had passed, another
lake was formed, and in it were laid down the yellow
sandstones of Hoy, which are quite different from the
other yellow sandstones of Orkney.

When you think that each thin flagstone or layer
of sandstone in our quarry was once a sheet of mud
and sand, and that it took months, no doubt, or even
years, to gather on the lake bottom, you can under-
stand how vast a space of time is represented by the
old red sandstone of Orkney.

** Books in the Running Brooks."

Let us now take a stroll along one of the little burns
which flow between their green or heathery banks
in any of the valleys of our native islands. These
little burns are very small in comparison with the
mighty rivers of the world, yet they are quietly per-
forming a great task, and in the long past ages the
amount of work which they have done is far greater
than you have ever imagined.

It is summer, and the burn runs shallow and slow ;
the pebbles and sand show clearly in the pools. The
burn enters a little bay, and as it flows across the
shore it breaks up into several streamlets, each work-
ing its way through the gravel. Brackish water plants
grow here ; the shore is muddy, and the seaweed is
often soiled with fine sediment. The burn has brought
this down, and has dropped it where it enters the sea.

The Story of the Rocks. 277

We follow the channel upwards, through flat, rich
meadows, which may be tilled, and covered with corn
and other crops. In the meadow the burn winds to
and fro, and in each loop the outer side is steep,
often overhanging : under the grassy bank the trout
lie hid. The inner side of the bend is shallow, slopes
gradually down to the water, and is covered with
small broken stones and gravelly pebbles. We can
see that the current is eating away the steep outer
bank by undermining it, while on the inner side the
small stones are gathering.

The meadow through which we are passing is
flat, and covered with wiry grasses which love wet
situations. The stuff* of which it is made can be
seen on the banks of the burn. It is a soft, dark-
brown earth, almost without stones, or with here
and there a layer of pebbles. How has this meadow
been formed ? The stream has done it.

To find out how the stream made the meadow we
must visit it in winter after several days of heavy
rain. Then a sheet of water covers the meadow,
making it a shallow lake. The water is very still
except near the channel of the burn ; it is brown and
full of mud. For some days the lake remains, then
the water begins to fall. The stream is clearer now,
though still dark with mud ; good water this for
the trout-fisher. A few days more and the lake has
vanished ; the stream keeps within its banks, though
it is still full.

Now look at the meadow. It is covered with
a very thin film of grayish-brown mud. In spring
the grasses will grow quickly, and will be greener
than ever. The meadow is a little — ever so little —

278 The Story of the Rocks.

higher for the new sheet of mud it has acquired.
Winter after winter this goes on. The brown earth
which forms the meadow is flood mud. Its flat con-
figuration is due to its being laid down in a little
temporary lake.

Let us follow the stream still farther, and leave the
meadow behind. The channel gets steeper, and the
water flows along quite merrily, faster than in the level
meadow below. The bends in the burn disappear.
It is in a hurry here and flows straight ; in the flat
meadow below it loiters and swings lazily to and
fro. The channel is shallow, and there are few pools.
The banks are often bare rock, or the stony clay which
is produced by the weathering of rock. The stream is
washing away the clay ; it even attacks the hard rocks.
To see how this is done you must come when the
burn is swollen with heavy rains. Then you will
hear it rolling the stones along. They grind on
one another, and thus they get their rounded shape,
or are broken up into small fragments. As they
are rolled along they wear away the rocks and
deepen the bed of the stream. Loose pieces are
swept away, soft layers are planed down. Many of
the cracks and joints are opened and loosened, ready
for fresh attacks during the floods of next winter.

This is where the gravel comes from. In the
lower part of its course the stream cannot move
large stones, but in floodtime the smaller pebbles are
carried downwards. The big stones lie in the upper
stream ; they must be broken smaller before they
can be carried away. After rainy weather you will
often find that a rapid branch stream has shot a big
heap of pebbles into the main stream. When the

The Story of the Rocks. 279

floods rise above the surface of the meadow they
may strew sheets of little stones here and there over
the grass.

After a big flood, if you know the stream well^
you will find many changes. Here a bank of gravel
has been carried away ; there a new one has gathered.
At every bend the bank shows undermining, and
pieces have been swept away. The fine stufl* makes
mud : part of this is laid down on the meadow, but
much of it is carried right out to sea.

That running water will wash away sand, gravel,
and mud is not new to you. You have often seen it
on the roads and in the roadside ditches, in the little
runnels around the farmhouses, or in the ploughed
fields. The burn is always doing the same thing,
according to its powers. In dry weather it does
little, for its current is weak ; in floods it works
rapidly. For perhaps two dozen days in a year
every burn is in great strength, and is a powerful
agent in changing the form of the land. This leads
you to grasp the fact that the stream has dug out
its own channel, and that it carries rock material to
lower levels, and at last to the ^ea. If you know
some of our burns well, and study and watch them
closely, you will find a world of interest in them.
Every feature of their channels is due to the work
the flowing water is doing, and shows the manner in
which it is done.

But what of the wide valley in which the burn
flows ? Other agencies have been at work here be-
sides the water : ice has left its mark on every part
of our valleys. But the burn has done most. On
either side it is joined by branches. Each of these

280 The Story of the Rocks.

is cutting its own channel, and thus gradually deepen-
ing the valley. Each branch has its lesser branches ;
together they cover the whole valley with an intricate
system of water channels.

Between these channels, heather and grass are
growing in the stony soil. The soil, as you have
learned already, is due to the decay of the rocks.
Frost and rain begin the work, and the growth of
plants hastens and helps it. Over the whole of
the sloping valley sides the rocks are being broken
up into finer and finer particles. When heavy rain
comes it washes away the smaller particles, and little
runnels appear which carry away the surface water.

Every year a portion of the soil is swept away to
the meadows, or to the mud sheets which floor the
shallow sea below. None of this ever comes back ;
it is sheer loss — a little at a time, but if the time
be long enough it amounts to a very great quantity.
Every day since that burn began to flow it has carried
downwards a greater or smaller burden of soil.

It took a long time for people to grasp the fact
that running water is a great earth-shaping agent.
Every valley you have ever seen was made in this
way. Other things helped, but the stream was the
main cause. A valley is only a great groove eaten
out of the rock. It is not due to any earthquake or
rending apart of the rocks ; it is not an original
feature of the country. There was a time when
there was no valley there ; but from the day the
stream first beo^an to trickle over the rocks it has
gone on deepening its channel and excavating the
valley, and it is still doing so.

The stream not only made the valley; it shaped

The Story of the Rocks.

281

the hills also. We sometimes speak of "the ever-
lasting hills." No doubt the hills are very old, and
will last a long time. Yet the little stream is older
and mightier than they. It shaped them and brought
them into being; in time it will remove them and
level them with the plain.

Let us climb the side of a hill, and see what we
can learn about it by patient observation and inference.

The Ward Hill, Eoij.

Any one of our flat-topped, round-shouldered Orkney
hills will do. They were all formed in the same way,
and teach the same lessons.

The ascent is gentle at first as we leave the plain
or the bottom of the valley. Then it gets steeper
and steeper. Often it is like a series of great steps —
a sharp rise for a little, then a flat ledge; another
sharp rise, followed by a gentle slope, and so on.
These terraces are formed of beds of hard stone.

282 The Story of the Rocks.

which weather down very slowly. The softer rocks
crumble fast, and form the steep slope. All our flag-
stone hills show these steps or terraces. They prove
that the slope of the hillside is determined largely by
the rate at which the different rock beds wear away.

After our stiff climb we get near the top. Many
of our hills are broad-backed. When we get above
the steep part we find a flat top, and it is often diffi-
cult to say where the actual summit is. In many
places there are great groups of hills, all of about
the same height, but separated by valleys. The
Orphir, Firth, and Harray hills, the E-ousay, Evie,
and Birsay hills, and the hills of Walls are all of
this kind. Even the Hoy hills show the same
feature, though less clearly. In all these cases the
hilltops look like the remains of one continuous
stretch of high ground, which has been cut up into
pieces by the digging out of the valleys. The hills
are the remnants of a plateau.

This is not a mere supposition, but can be proved
quite clearly. In many Orkney hills there are beds
of rock which can be identified by the geologist by
certain marks. They may contain peculiar fossils,
or they may be of a special colour or structure. In
Firth and Orphir, for example, there is a band of
flagstone which yields roofing slabs. You can follow
this band from hill to hill for several miles, often
by the quarries in which it was extensively worked
in former years. It occurs at much the same level
in all the different hills, though sinking somewhat
to the north according to the dip or slope of the
rock bed. It is found on both sides of the valleys,
as, for example, at Finstown, at much the same height.

The Hills of Orkney. Photographed from a Relief Model
based on the Ordnance Survey.

284 The Story of the Rocks.

The Orkney hills, then, consist of a great pile of
beds of flagstone which once spread unbroken over
the whole country. Out of this great mass of flag-
stones and sandstones the running water of the burns
has carved the valley sj^stems. The hills are the
remnants which the streams have not yet removed.
As time goes on the valleys deepen and broaden,
and the hills' get less and less.

" The hills are shadows, and they flow
From form to form, and nothing stands."

It has taken vast ages to do this work, and the
work is still going on. It is very slow. The oldest
man hardly notices any visible change in the con-
figuration of the country. But wind, rain, frost, and
running water are ever at work. Every day sees
some loss, some material swept away never to return.
What becomes of it ? It reaches the sea, and there
forms mud and sand. Time will change these into
solid rock again, and may ultimately use them in
building new continents. The hills crumble into
dust, but it is " the dust of continents to be."

Cliffs and Beaches.

On looking at a map of Orkney or Shetland we
are struck with the irregularity in the shape of the
islands and the winding nature of the coast line.
There must be some reason for this, and a little
reflection will bring it to light. If you look at the
larger valleys you will notice that most of them end
in salt-water bays, while the hills or ridges between
the valleys run out into points or "nesses." This is
especially the case in Shetland ; but in Orkney, too,

The Story of the Rocks. 285

there are many instances of it. The shape of the
land extends beneath the water — the deep bay con-
tinues the land valley, the point and the skerry mark
the position of the watersheds.

We have seen that the valleys were eaten out by
running streams. At one time the land stood higher,
and the burns flowed where now the salt water
covers the bottom of the bay. Thus the land was
shaped. Then the ground sank a little, and the
sea flooded the lower grounds. The hilltops remained
above water as islands ; the valleys and flat grounds
were changed into bays and sounds and firths. Think
what would happen if the land sank another hundred
feet. Many of the present islands would become
shoals, and new islands would be made where the sea
flowed round the higher ground, winding out and in
among them in narrow sounds and straits, just as it
does among the islands of the present day.

Long ago Orkney and Shetland were much larger
than they are at present. Most of the North Sea
was dry land, covered with trees. In several parts
of Orkney we can see trunks and roots of trees,
uncovered after heavy storms have shifted the sand
on the beach. These trees did not grow beneath the
sea, of course ; but the land sank, and the salt water
covered the site of the old forest.

Our wild animals, such as hares and rabbits, mice,
voles, and shrews, were not imported in boats. They
were here probably before man arrived, and they
walked in on their own feet when the sea bottom was
still part of the dry land of Europe. Those who have
studied this question think the land is still sinking,
or at any rate has not yet begun to rise. If it were

286 The Story of the Rocks.

rising, we should find gravels and shells and sea-
beaches above the level of the present shores. Such
raised beaches are found in many parts of Scotland,
but not in Orkney or Shetland.

The shores are always changing, and every part
of them bears evidence of constant alterations. Where
there are high banks or cliffs, you will often find that
pieces have fallen down ; this is especially the case
where the bank consists of clay. Our Orkney rocks
are very hard and our cliffs very lasting, but in some
parts of England there are villages and churches
now standing on the very edge of the cliffs which
a few centuries ago were at a considerable distance
from the sea.

It is the sea that wears away the cliffs by hammer-
ing at the rocks; during storms the big stones on
exposed beaches are rounded and worn by the billows
tossing them about and driving them against the
rocks. On the west coasts of our islands the great
winter waves have enormous power ; no breakwater
could resist them, and a ship which is driven ashore
soon goes to pieces. The cliffs are undermined at
their base by the formation of caves ; the soft parts
are eaten out into geos. Frost and rain open the
seams of the rocks and great masses tumble down ;
these are then tossed to and fro until they are
converted into heaps of boulders. The boulders get
less and less, and become pebbles ; last of all they are
ground down to fine shingle and sand.

Every kind of rock has its own characteristic type
of clift' scenery. When pieces are detached they sep-
arate along natural cracks which are called "joints,"
and these joints have a different arrangement in

The Story of the Rocks. 287

sandstone, in granite, in serpentine, and in schist.
Weathering then acts on the exposed surface, and,
if the rock is bedded, some beds are eaten away more
rapidly than others. There is much to interest us in
our cliffs ; there is not a detail in their form which
has not a meaning.

On wild shores where storm-waves are high we find
large boulders; the smaller ones are washed away

A sandstone cliff.

and swept out to sea. Sometimes there is no beach,
but the cliff plunges down into deep water, for there
the waves are so powerful that they clear away all
the broken rock. On sheltered beaches we find small
rounded pebbles. If we look at the stones on the
shore of a small fresh- water loch we find them scarcely
rounded at all, for the little waves cannot toss them
about and rub them against one another.

288 The Story of the Rocks.

The tear and wear of pebbles produces sand, and
the sand is driven to and fro by currents and by
storms. It rests for a time in some of the bays, but
is not a fixture. A high wind drives some of it
ashore to cover the grass of the sandy links. A
heavy storm may drag a great deal of it out to sea.
Unless it is held fast by bent or other plants, sand
is always moving.

Even the stones travel along the shore, driven by
the beat of the waves in bad weather. There are
stone beaches common in Orkney and Shetland which
are often called ayres, and which have behind them
a salt lagoon or oyce. The oyce opens to the sea at
one end of the ayre, and a strong tidal current flows
out and in through the opening. An ayre is really
an army of stones on the march, constantly moving
forward. In every bay there is one direction from
which the biggest waves come, and the stones of the
ayre have come from that direction. The opening of
the oyce is at the other end of the ayre.

At first there was a bay with a shallow inner end.
When the big waves reach shallow water they turn
over and have their speed checked. Stones carried
along the shore are dropped at the edge of the
shallow water, forming a bar. The bar goes on
stretching across the bay as the storms fetch more
stones, and in time the oyce is nearly walled in.
But as the opening gets narrower and narrower the
tidal flow gets stronger and stronger. There is a
combat between the tidal currents and the storm
currents, and in time things are adjusted so that
the speed of the outflow is just enough to keep
the opening from being closed up.

The Story of the Rocks. 289

The Age of Ice.

Along the burns and the seashores, and in stone
quarries, we often see banks of clay. Usually this
clay is full of stones. In some places the clay is
merely the softened, crumbling top of the rock, and
the stones in it are of the same kind as the solid
rock below. In other places the clay contains stones
which are quite unlike any rocks in the neigh-
bourhood. Sometimes these stones are very large,
and they must have been carried from some distant
place, for they are of a kind of rock which is not found
in the islands. What is the history of this clay with
travelled stones, or " boulder clay," as it is called ?

Boulder clay may be recognized by several marks.
It is tough and sticky; it shows no bedding or layers;
and it may be only a few inches thick, or it may
form cliffs thirty or forty feet high. Pick a few
stones out of it : you will notice that they are not
all of the same kind. Wash them carefully in the
sea or the burn. Their ends are blunt and worn, but
they are not rounded like sea-pebbles. Their sur-
faces are smooth, and are covered with fine scratches,
as if some one had drawn a needle or the point of a
knife along them. Nowhere except in this clay will
you see stones with these curious scratches.

If you find the place where the bottom of the
clay rests on the hard rock, you should carefully
remove a little of the clay and lay bare the rock
surface beneath. Wash it with a little water, and
you will see that it is covered with fine scratches
exactly like those on the stones. Now this smooth-
ing and scratching of the stones and of the rock

(1.384) 19

290 The Story of the Rocks.

might be explained by imagining that the clay at one
time was in motion, pushed forward by some immense
force, and that the stones rubbing on one another
and on the rocky floor produced these scratches.

Among the Alps, in Norway, in Greenland, and in
other places where there are high snow-clad moun-
tains or a very cold climate, the snow gathers in the
valleys till it forms thick masses, and is compressed
by its own weight into ice : these masses are known
as glaciers. Glaciers are really slow-moving rivers of
ice ; they slip very slowly down the valley slopes,
travelling usually only a few inches in a day.
When they reach the warmer region at the base
of the mountains, they melt away, leaving behind
them heaps of clay which they have swept down
from the hills. The stones in this clay are worn
and smoothed and scratched exactly like those in the
boulder clays of Orkney and Shetland, and the rocks
over which the glaciers have moved are smoothed
and scratched likewise.

The boulder clay, then, is clearly a glacial deposit,
formed at a time when our islands were covered with
movinsf sheets of ice. These ice sheets were travel-
ling from the North Sea towards the Atlantic, in a
west or north-west direction, for the scratches on the
rock surface always have that trend. We can often
prove also that the boulders found in the clay have
travelled from the south-east. Thus at the Mont,
near Kirkwall, the boulder clay is full of red sand-
stone from the Head of Holland and Inganess Bay.
In Shetland stones have been carried from the east
side of the mainland right over the hills to the
west shores.

The Story of the Rocks. 291

When we piece together all the evidence about
this Ice Age or Glacial Period, not only in Orkney
and Shetland but in all the north-west of Europe,
we learn that it lasted a very long time, and that
the North Sea was filled with a great sheet of ice
which must have been several thousand feet thick.
This ice was pushed out of the basin of the North
Sea westwards into the Atlantic by the pressure
of the deep snow-cap which covered the mountains
of central Europe, and on its way it passed over
Orkney and Shetland. The broken stones and rub-
bish which gathered below it formed the boulder clay.
This may seem a very strange tale, but every kind
of evidence that is needed to prove its truth has
been found by those who have studied the boulder
clay and the scratched rocks beneath it.

After the great ice sheet melted, the climate
was still cold, and there were times when snow
and ice gathered on our hilltops and little glaciers
flowed down the valleys. These also have left traces
behind by which you can know where they were.
In every one of the higher glens in the Orkney hills
you will find mounds of clay and stones, often
forming a crescent or bow running from side to
side of the valley. They are very well seen in
Harray, Birsay, Orphir, and Hoy ; but even in the
East Mainland the hills, though low, gave rise to
little glaciers. In Shetland they are almost as com-
mon as in Orkne}^ In many parishes there are
clusters of large and small mounds, some of them
grassy and others covered with heather, lying near
the mouths of the main valleys. When these
mounds have been cut into by streams or by

292 The Story of the Rocks.

roads, we see that they are not rocky hillocks but
consist only of clay and stones, and that the stones
are often scratched like those in the stiff boulder
clay. These mounds are the " dumps " or moraines
where the glaciers which filled the valleys melted
and dropped their rubbish. At that time our islands
must have resembled Spitzbergen, where to-day most
of the hills have an ice-cap and nearly all the
valleys are filled with glaciers, some of which reach
the sea and give birth to icebergs, while others melt
away and deposit lumpy moraines over the valley
bottoms.

Orkney Fossils.

You cannot examine many of our Orkney flagstones
carefully without finding fossils. The most common
are scales and bones of fishes. In the rock these
often appear as coal-black specks. When a fossil has
weathered for a long time, as in a stone dyke or on the
seashore, it often becomes bright blue, like a splash of
blue paint. Sometimes whole fishes are found in the
gray flagstones, with every fin and every scale perfect.
Of course you will not find these every day or every
year, but there are many quarries in Orkney where
you may get them occasionally. When the quarry-
man uncovers a bed of rock, he often finds it
sprinkled over with great numbers of fossil fishes.

We can picture to ourselves that, at some time
long gone by, when these flagstones were being laid
down in the old Orcadian lake as sheets of sandy
and muddy silt, the fishes were suddenly killed by
a volcanic eruption, or by a period of drought, and
their dead bodies covered the muddy bottom for

The Story of the Rocks. 293

miles. Fresh mud then came down and buried them,
and preserved their remains. In process of time
their bones and scales were changed into the pitch-
black substance which we now find in the rocks.
But we can still see that these specks and scales
are really parts of fishes. If we examine them
under the microscope, we find that they have all
the marks of structure that the same parts of certain
fishes have at the present day.

In almost every parish in Orkney there is at least
one quarry which contains good fossils, and there
must be manj^ others which we do not yet know of.
But no person who knows what a bit of fossil fish is
like need search very long among the flagstones of
the shore without finding a scale, a jaw bone, a tooth,
or other relic of the fishes which lived in Orkney at
the time the flagstone muds were gathering. A heap
of stones thrown down by the roadside, for building
a dyke or for mending the roads, often contains frag-
ments of dozens of fishes.

It is not difficult for us to picture what these fishes
were like when alive. Some of them were about the
size of sillocks or herrings, others were as large as a big
cod. They had scales all over their bodies, and fins,
supported by bony rays, just like living fishes. But
though many of them were of the same shape and
general outline as a trout or a herring, they diff'ered
from these in many waj^s.

Their scales were often hard and bony, with a
smooth, shining outer layer of enamel like that which
covers a tooth. Those fishes are called ganoids. On
their heads they had bony plates with the same hard
covering, often showing ridges and furrows, knobs,

294 The Story of the Rocks.

and other markings. You may see these beautifully
preserved in many of the fossil bones which occur
in the gray and blue flagstones. Those fishes belong-
to species which are no longer living on the earth's
surface, but closely allied kinds of fish are still found
in a few rivers in Africa, America, and Europe.
The royal sturgeon is one of these.

None of the fishes which are common in our seas
at the present day are ever found as fossils in rocks
as old as the Orcadian flagstones. The water of the
Orcadian lake was fresh water. We know this because
we find no marine shells, and no crabs or cuttle-fishes
in the flagstones, though these kinds of animals peopled
the sea at that time, and would have been preserved
as fossils if they had inhabited the lake.

Some of the fishes in the lake were very grotesque
and oddly-shaped creatures. One of them had two
curious bony arms or wings which stuck out from its
sides. It is not very common in Orkney, but is some-
times found in quarries near Stromness, and a smaller
fish of much the same shape may be got in Deerness
occasionally. They are called " winged fishes," and
are quite unlike any fishes now living. So strange
is this fossil that when first found it was thought
to be a curious beetle.

Another strange fish was of great size ; its head
bones are a foot or more in length. Pieces of the
head of this fish may be seen in many parts of
Orkney, but the bones of the body were soft and
rotted away after the fish died. The back of its
head was somewhat like a shovel in shape, and the
bones are often half an inch in thickness. There were
two great holes for the eyes near the corners of this

The Story of the Rocks. 295

shield. The back of the neck was protected by another
large plate. A specimen of this fossil can be seen in
the Stromness museum ; it was called by Hugh Miller
the Asterolepis, or " star-scale fish," of Stromness.

Besides the fishes, other fossils occur in the flag-
stones, but not of many kinds. At Pickaquoy, near
Kirkwall, and in several other places, very small
shells, like tiny mussel shells, often cover the sur-
face of the beds of rock. Pieces of wood may also
be seen in the flagstones ; they are flattened out
and form black strips of a coaly substance, but as
they must have drifted a long distance from land,
and sunk to the bottom only when they became
water-logged, they do not tell us much about the
nature of the plants which clothed the islands and
the shores of the lake. Yet we know that there
were no flowers then, no grasses, or sedges, or trees
like those that now live, but only great reeds and
tree -like plants belonging to the same groups as
the horse-tail that grows in watery places and along
roadsides, and the little green scaly club moss that
creeps through the heather, sending up its fruit-
bearing spikes. There were also many kinds of ferns.
In the forests and swamps there were land -snails
and insects, but no frogs or lizards, still less any
birds or other warm-blooded creatures. The fishes
are the highest types that then existed ; they were
the " lords of creation " in that day.

Winged fish" {Pterichthys).

A PEAT=MOSS.

ARL EINAR it was, as the story goes,
who first taught the Orkneyman to
make the turf into peats — Torf Einar,
as he was called in memory of this
fact. If the story is true, he did
a great work for the islands, — not
quite treeless in his day, perhaps,
but yet in a bad way for fuel in the long winter
evenings, — and he deserves a monument almost as
splendid as that of Earl Magnus.

The wood fires went out long ago, and the peat
fires will, no doubt, follow in due time. True, the
peat-mosses are not yet exhausted, but year by year
they recede, and the road to " the hill " grows longer.
There is less time to spare now for peat-cutting than
there used to be, for our modern methods of farming
require more constant labour. But through our trade
with other lands money is circulating more freely,
and coal can be bought to take the place of peat.
The change means more money and less time, and
that is just the great difference between this century
and those which have gone by.

But the peat-moss is not yet deserted, and in the
early summer it is still a busy scene in many places.

A Peat=Moss. 297

Harvest has ever been a time of joy, and peat-cutting
is the harvest of the moss. The flaying-spade and
the tuskar are not mere toys, nor is " taking out "
the newly-cut peats a holiday task; but there are
few scenes where more cheerfulness and wholesome
mirth can be seen than at many an Orkney peat-
cutting.

Let us approach one of these familiar " peat-banks,"
not necessarily to share in the fun, and certainly not
to take part in the labour, but to find out what we
can about the substance which we call peat. Here
is a bank where the moss is deep enough to give
three lengths of peat, one above the other, besides
the surface layer, which is cut off and thrown down
on the old peat ground.

This top layer, we see, is, like ordinary turf, full
of the roots of growing plants — heather, rushes,
sedges, and grasses of various kinds. Filling up
the spaces between them is a tangled mass of spongy
mosses. These mosses are the most important plants
of all in the formation of peat.

The most common of the bog -mosses is the
Spliagnum, a small branching plant with thin, scaly
leaves. Where there is plenty of light it is of a
vivid green, and the tops of the sprays look like
tiny emerald stars. Lower, where less light comes,
the plant looks yellow and sickly, while still lower
it is black and decaying. The black substance which
we call peat is really a mass of decayed sphagnum
moss.

The upper part of our peat-bank, just below the
turf which has been cut away, is more loose and
fibrous than the under part. The roots of the larger

298 A Peat=Moss.

plants may still be seen in it. The second and
especially the third peat are much closer in texture
and of a deeper black colour. The vegetable matter
is more completely decayed, and if we were to com-
press it sufficiently^ it would look very like coal.

At one part of the face of the bank we notice a
layer of a different kind. We find the roots and
parts . of the stems and branches of small trees em-
bedded in the moss. There has been a wood here at
one time — how long ago, we cannot tell. That layer
of moss which now lies above the remains of the trees
may have taken centuries to form.

In many places we find more than one such layer
of wood, separated as well as covered by thick layers
of moss. Some of the trees have been of considerable
size, too ; the trunk of one found in the parish of
Stenness measured about five feet in circumference,
while the moss near it was thickly studded with the
nuts which had fallen from it year after year.

The trees whose remains have been found in our
mosses include the poplar, pine, mountain ash, birch,
hazel, alder, and willow. One very interesting fact
is that the silver fir is also found, a tree which does
not now grow in Scotland, and is not found in Scottish
peat-mosses, but which is common in Norway.

What curious tales those peat-mosses tell of the
changes of climate which have passed over our
islands ! At the present day it is only in our deepest
glens, as in Hoy, that we can find even small trees
and bushes growing wild. Yet at one time our
islands must have been well wooded, though it is
only in the mosses that the remains have been
preserved for us to see.

A Peat=Moss. 299

The sphagnum, again, has another story to tell.
It requires abundant moisture for its growth, and
at present it can find this only in flat and boggy
ground. It is therefore only in such places that
peat is now being formed. Yet we find peat on
most of our hillsides and even hilltops. This tells
of a time when our climate was much wetter than it
now is, and when sphagnum flourished everywhere.

One more story of a different kind can be read
from the peat-moss. Here and there, as at Deer-
sound and Widew^all Bay, when the tide is out, we
may find peat-moss, and the remains of large trees
among it, far down on the beach, many feet below
the level of high water, and most of it covered to a
considerable depth with the sand and gravel w^hich
form the upper beach and the land near it. This
tells clearly of a gradual sinking of the land in the
neighbourhood. When that moss was being formed,
and when those trees were growing, the shallow bay
must have been dry land.

The plants and flowers which grow on our mosses
are worth more than a passing glance. Let us look
at some of them. The sphagnum we have already
mentioned ; it belongs to the class of flowerless plants.
The others we shall mention are flowering plants.

Best known of all, perhaps, is what we call heather.
This name is used for at least four diflerent plants
in Orkney. Two of these bear that common but
beautiful flower the heather-bell. One bears bells
of a pale, rose-coloured, waxy appearance ; the other,
which is more common, has bells of a darker and often
purplish red. The former is the cross-leaved heath,
with its little green leaves arranged in whorls of

300 A Peat-Moss.

four; the latter has its leaves in whorls of three,
and is known as the fine-leaved heath.

The most common kind of heather is the ling,
which flowers somewhat later than the heaths. It
is this plant whose spikes of tiny rose - coloured
flowers make our hillsides a purple glory in the
early autumn, and whose leaves and stems give them
their familiar brown tint during the rest of the year.
A white variety is also found, the " white heather "
which is supposed to bring good luck to the finder.

Another kind of heather is that which bears the
small black berries so well known to every young
Orcadian. This plant is not a heath at all; it is
really the black crowberry. The berry is preceded
by a tiny purplish flower, which probably few of
the berry -gatherers have ever seen.

The " rashes " or rushes are a common feature of
our moors. Two kinds may be noticed, one with
its flower-tuft more closely packed together than
the other. These rushes were of some use in former
days. The white pith was extracted and dried for
winter use as wicks in the old oil-burning " crusies,"
before the introduction of paraffin.

There are many smaller plants of a similar type,
one of which, the bog asphodel, ought to be well
known ; its pretty, yellow, star-like flowers, grouped
on a stalk some eight inches high, often make
patches of our moorlands glow with the shimmer
of gold.

The cotton-grass is probably more familiar. There
are two kinds found in Orkney, one bearing a single
tuft of white down on each stem when seeding, the
other a group or cluster of tufts. This plant is not

A Peat = Moss.

301

Plants of the peat-moss.
1. Common ling (Calluna vulgaris). 2. Cross-leaved heath (Erica tetralix). 3-
Slack crowberry (Empetrum nigrum), i. Cotton grass (Eriophorurtipolystachion). 5.
Grass of Parnassus (Parnassia palustris). 6. Bog asphodel {Narthecium ossifragum)..

a grass, and has no connection with the cotton plant ;
but the name is a good one for all that, and no one-
can mistake the plant to which it applies.

One of our most beautiful moorland plants is that
which bears the attractive name, " grass of Parnassus."
This also is not a grass, and does not in the least
resemble one. It is well worth looking for and

302 A Peat=Moss.

looking at when found. From a group of dark-
green, glossy, heart-shaped leaves rises a slender stem
four or five inches high, with one leaf growing on
it midway up its height. This stem bears a single
cup-shaped flower as large as a common buttercup,
with ^YG white petals marked with darker veins.
The central parts of the flower are yellowish-green.
Round the stigma stand the five stamens, and between
these and opposite the petals are five curiously shaped
nectaries or honey vessels. They are fringed with
a row of white hairs, each ending in a yellow knob,
and look like a tiny golden crown placed in the
centre of the flower-cup. The name of the flower
is said to be taken from Mount Parnassus in
Greece, the home of the Muses. Certainly the
flower itself is dainty enough to be a favourite with
the poets.

Some plants have developed the curious habit
of eating, or, at any rate, digesting and absorbing
the juices of insects. Two of those insectivorous
plants may be found in our peat-moss. In certain
places we may notice that the thick carpet of moss
is dotted with little rosettes of bright yellowish
green, which look like vegetable star-fishes scattered
over a beach of moss. That is one of our " plants of
prey." It is called the butterwort.

From the centre of the rosette rises a slender stalk
of two or three inches, bearing a small dusky purple
flower somewhat like a dog-violet. The green leaves
which form the rosette are stifl", and lie close to the
ground, as if to keep a clear space among the other
plants. They curl up at the edges, and look as if
they did not want to mingle with their kindred

A Peat = Moss.

303

round about ; and indeed they do not, for they have
other o^ame in view.

Attracted by this bright green star, a small insect
comes in search, perhaps, of honey. He finds the leaf
covered with a sticky fluid, and his touch causes
more of the fluid to come out of little pores in the
leaf. The insect is held fast, and the gum clogs up
the pores of his body so that he cannot breathe.
He soon dies. Then the plant pours out an acid
liquid, which dissolves all the
soft parts of the captured insect,
and leaves only the skeleton.
At the same time this dissolved
or digested food is sucked in by
the pores of the leaf.

The acid juice of the butter-
wort is so like the juice of the
animal stomach, that in Lapland
the people used to pour warm
milk over butterwort leaves, and
thus changed it into a curd,
just as we do by adding to the
milk some rennet, made from the
stomach of a calf.

On this same patch of moor
we may find another flesh-eating plant. This is smaller
than the last, and less easily found. It has a slender
flower-stalk with a spike of small whitish flowers
rising from the centre of a curious group of leaves.
The leaves lie flat on the ground ; they are small
and round, no larger than split peas, and covered
with bright red hairs that look like tiny red pins
stuck in a tiny green pin cushion.

Butterivort.

304

A Peat = Moss.

Each of these hairs carries at its tip a bead of
clear fluid, which glitters in the sun ; hence the plant
is called the sundew. Let any thirsty insect come
to drink this dew, and a strange thing happens. He
finds his feet held fast by the sticky dewdrops, and
the more he struggles the more of these does he rub
against. He is held fast until he
is suffocated, and then he is di-
gested and absorbed by the leaf.
When the fly alights on the
plant, the hairs begin to bend
in towards the centre of the
leaf. Even those hairs which
have not been touched bend
over until all of them are help-
ing to hold fast the prey and
dissolve it with their liquid.
If the insect alights near the
edge of the leaf, he is thus
carried towards the centre and
held fast, while the leaf itself
bends so as to form a cup for
the acid that pours from the
hairs. If two insects alight on
the same leaf, the hairs form
into two groups, those near
each animal curving towards him, so that the leaf acts
as if it had two hands. In this way all the insects
that come are attended to.

There are many other curious plants to be found
in the peat-moss, but those we have mentioned will
suffice to show how much of interest there is in our
bleak mosses and moors.

Sundeiv.

SOME COMMON WEEDS.

'HAT is a weed ? We may
best describe it, perhaps, as
a plant growing in the wrong
place. A weed is not neces-
sarily ugly, or harmful, or
even useless. Many common
weeds are very beautiful, and
some of them are very useful ; but if they are growing
where we wish something else to grow, we call them
•' weeds," and root them out, or try to do so. Grass
in our hayfields and meadows is a valuable plant ;
grass in our flower -borders or turnip -fields is a
weed. So when we speak of weeds, we do not mean
any special class of plants, but only those which
force themselves upon our notice by springing up
where we wish something else to grow.

Many of our common weeds are very interesting
plants to the botanist. They have to fight for their
lives ; and the way in which they scatter their seeds,
and the power of those seeds to lie dormant for years
waiting a chance to grow, are well worth study. It
is a war between the farmer and wild nature, and
when we look over our fields and pastures in spring
and summer we see clearl}^ enough that the farmer
is not always the victor. In many a cornfield the oat

(1,384) 20

306 Some Common Weeds.

crop seems to be merely incidental, while the hardier
children of nature flourish in spite of its intrusion.

This is not as it ought to be. Even if they are
otherwise harmless, the weeds use up a large part
of the plant food in the soil, and they rob the young
oats of the necessary light and air. In this way
weeds prove an expensive crop to the farmer. It
pays him to study their life-history so as to learn
how they may be eradicated, and to spend some
labour in the task of doing so.

A common pest in the Orkney cornfields is the
" runcho " or " runchic," known elsewhere by the
name of charlock or wild mustard. Its pale-yellow
flowers overtop the growing oats, and their unwel-
come gleam makes some fields conspicuous for miles
around. The form of the flower shows that the
charlock belongs to the same family as the turnip
and the cabbage and the frao^rant wallflower of our
gardens. The flower has four petals, and the cross-
like arrangement of its six stamens, four long and
two short, has given them their name of Cruciferce,
or cross-bearers. The seed-vessels, like those of the
turnip, are in the form of a long, narrow pod with
a partition running down the middle. The seeds
are small and hard, and they grow only in a freshly-
stirred soil with plenty of light and air. When a
field is laid down in grass they make no sign of
life, but when it is ploughed for the next crop of
oats they spring up once more, and make it as ga^y
as a flower-bed. Two kinds of this plant are found
— the one, charlock, of a light yellow colour, com-
mon in peaty and clayey ground ; and the other, wild
mustard, of a deeper yellow, found in sandy soil.

Some common iveeds.
1. False oat grass. 2. Chickweed. 3. Ragwort. 4. Prunella. 5. "Wild mustard
(Brassica Sinapis). 6. Charlock (Raphanus Baphanistrum). 7. Corn spurrey. 8.
Sheep's sorrel. 9. Common sorrel.

308 Some Common Weeds.

Another showy weed is the yellow corn-marigold.
This handsome flower seems more dainty in its choice
of soil, and in some districts it is not common. A
glance at the open flower shows its kinship to the "wee,
modest, crimson-tipped " daisy. The so-called flower
is not one, but a host of tiny flowers or florets
growing upon a broad green disc called the receptacle.
This compound or composite type of flower is found
in a large number of common plants, named on this
account Compositoe. Many of them are found in
Orkney, and they are a very interesting as well as
a numerous family.

One of the best known is the dandelion, a more
beautiful flower than many which we grow in our
gardens, and only its a-bundance prevents our ad-
miring it. If we examine the florets of the dandelion,
we see that each of them has a corolla forming a
long yellow ribbon on the side farthest from the
centre of the flower. In the corn-marigold only the
outer florets have this ribbon, which forms a halo of
rays round the central portion. In the daisy these rays
are white, wdth the tips pink, especially underneath.

A well-known feature of the dandelion is the
white down which it produces when in seed — a
wonderfully beautiful arrangement for spreading its
seeds far and wdde to find room to grow. This is
a common method of broadcast sowing among the
Compositae family. The thistles, which form a well-
known section of that family, depend largely on their
floating seeds in their struggle against the farmer.
Some farmers seem to forget this fact, for, crowded
in some corner of an old pasture, or in serried ranks
by roadside and ditchside, we may see those armed

Some Common Weeds. 309

foes allowed to blossom and send forth thousands of
winged seeds to overrun the neighbouring fields, and
even the neighbouring farms. A few hours' work
w^ith a scythe would prevent the mischief. There
might well be laws to prevent the careless spreading
of weeds as there are to prevent the spreading of
infectious disease among animals.

One of the Compositse family is a common w^eed
in Orkney pasture fields — the "tirsac" or ragwort.
This is a coarse, vigorous plant, with a tough stalk
about two feet in height, crowned with a spreading
tuft of yellow daisy-shaped flowers. In fields where
this weed is allowed to grow and multiply, it soon
comes to occupy a large proportion of the whole area,
and this means a considerable loss in the grazing
value of the pasture.

The large family of the grasses includes some of
the plants most useful to the farmer. All the grain
crops, such as wheat, barley, and oats, are cultivated
grasses, as are also the plants which are used for
pasture and for haj^ There are some wild grasses,
however, which are very persistent and troublesome
weeds. Some of these, like couch grass, spread more
by creeping underground stems than by seeds. A
common grass in Orkney is that known as " swine-
beads," from the knotted form of its underground
stems. Its common name is false oat grass. It
resembles small black oats, but is much taller. Cart-
loads of its beaded stems may be gathered from
some fields when being prepared for turnips, and by
so doing much trouble may be saved.

When a field is laid down in turnips or potatoes,
the weeds have a hard struggle for life. Those of

310 Some Common Weeds.

slow growth are checked by the ploughing and
grubbing and harrowing, and later by the hoe and
the scuffler. Yet there are a few which in a moist
season spring up quickly and soon cover the drills.
The common spurrey, with its narrow, sticky leaves
growing in whorls, and its tiny white flowers which
open only in the sun, is perhaps the best known.
The chickweed is another common weed in such
fields. These, however, if kept down at first by the
hoe, are of too feeble growth to injure the crop
among which they strive to find a living.

Sheep's sorrel and common sorrel, both commonly
known as " sooricks," were more harmful half a cen-
tury ago than they are at present. Cultivation and the
rotation of crops have reduced their quantity, but their
enormous power of spreading can be witnessed in a
poor, thin, or peaty soil, where the crops, especially
grass, are meagre. There they spread, and sometimes
with such vigour that they push every other plant
aside. Both kinds of sorrel are common. The one
with arrow-shaped leaves is called common sorrel ;
that with spear-shaped leaves, sheep's sorrel. Their
leaves, which have a very acid taste, often turn
reddish.

Another common and pretty little flower is prunella
or self-heal. Whorls of green bracts and violet
flowers form a dense, short spike. It grows from four
to six inches high, and is to be met with on dry soils,
and although fairly common in oats, flourishes best
in second year's grass. It is one of the large order
of Labiates, a group which includes the dead-nettle
and the hemp-nettle, and when abundant it is a
clear indication of the exhaustion of some ingredients

Some Common Weeds.

311

of the soil — often lime. When fields are brought to
a high state of cultivation, or are near enough the
seashore to get an abundant supply of sand, it almost
disappears ; but when they are impoverished, it soon
returns.

These are only a few of the weeds which every
farmer knows well. They are worth study, for it
IS only when we know how they grow and spread
that we are able to prevent their increase. The
cultivation and manuring of the soil and the sowing
of seeds are only one side of the farmer's work ; he
has to remove the wild growth as w^ell as to promote
the growth of what he sows. Otherwise his fields
will bear two crops at a time, one of nature's sowing
and one of his own, and of these two the natural
crop is likely to be the more flourishing.

HOME LIFE ON THE ROCKS.

Guillemots.

OTHING is more interesting than
to look down from the summit
of some precipice on to a ledge
at no great distance below, which
is quite crowded with guillemots.
Roughly speaking, the birds form
two long rows, but these rows are
very irregular in depth and formation, and swell here
and there into little knots and clusters, besides often
merging into or becoming mixed with each other,
so that the idea of symmetry conveyed is of a very
modified kind, and may be sometimes broken down
altoD^ether. In the first row a certain number of the
birds sit close against and directly fronting the wall
of the precipice, into the angle of which with the
ledge they often squeeze themselves. Several will
be closely pressed together, so that the head of
one is often resting against the neck or shoulder
of another, which other will also be making a pillow
of a third, and so on. Others stand here and
there behind the seated ones, each being, as a rule,
close to his or her partner. There is another irreg-
ular row about the centre of the ledge, and equally
here it is to be remarked that the sitting birds have

Home Life on the Rocks.

313

their beaks pointed towards the cliff, whilst the
standing ones are turned indifferently. There are
generally several birds on the edge of the parapet,
and at intervals one will come pressing to it through
the crowd in order to fly down to the sea, whilst
from time to time others also fly up and alight on it,
often with sand-eels in their beaks. On a ledge of
perhaps a dozen paces in length there may be from
sixty to eighty guillemots, and as often as they are
counted the number will be found to be approximately
the same.

Most of the sitting birds
are either incubating or have
young ones under them,
which, as long as they are
little, they seem to treat
very much as though they
were eggs. Much affection
is shown between the paired
birds. One that is sitting
either on her egg or her
young one — for no difference in the attitude can
be observed — will often be very much cosseted by
the partner who stands close behind or beside
her. With the tip of his long, pointed beak he, as
it were, nibbles the feathers (or, perhaps, scratches
and tickles the skin between them) of her head, neck,
and throat ; whilst she, with her eyes half closed, and
an expression as of submitting to an enjoyment — a
" Well, I suppose I must " look — bends her head
backwards, or screws it round sideways towards him,
occasionally nibbling with her bill also amidst the
feathers of his throat, or the thick white plumage of

Guillemot.

314 Home Life on the Rocks.

his breast. Presently she stands up, revealing the
small, hairy-looking chick, whose head has from time
to time been visible just peeping out from under its
mother's wing. Upon this the other bird bends its
head down and cossets in the same way — but very
gently, and with the extreme tip of the bill — the little
tender young one. The mother does so too, and then
both birds, standing side by side over the chick, pay
it divided attentions, seeming as though they could not
make enough either of their child or of each other.
It is a pretty picture, and here is another one.

A bird — we will think her the female, as she per-
forms the most mother-like part — has just flown in
with a fish — a sand-eel — in her bill. She makes her
way with it to the partner, who rises and shifts the
chick that he has been brooding over from himself
to her. This is done quite invisibly, as far as the
chick is concerned, but you can see that it is being-
done.

The bird with the fish, to whom the chick has been
shifted, now takes it in hand. Stooping forward her
body, and drooping down her wings, so as to make a
kind of little tent or awning of them, she sinks her
bill with the fish in it towards the rock and then
raises it again, and does this several times before
either letting the fish drop or placing it in the chick's
bill — for which it is I cannot quite see. It is only
now that the chick becomes visible, its back turned
to the bird standing over it, and its bill and throat
moving as though swallowing something down. Then
the bird that has fed it shifts it again to the other,
who receives it with equal care, and bending down
over it, appears — for it is now invisible — to help or

Home Life on the Rocks. 315

assist it in some way. It would be no wonder if the
chick had wanted assistance, for the fish was a very
big one for so small a thing, and it would seem as if
he swallowed it bodily. After this the chick is again
treated as an egg by the bird that has before had
charge of him — that is to say, he is sat upon, appar-
ently, jusL as though he were to be incubated.

On account of the closeness with which the chick
is guarded by the parent birds, and the way in which
they both stand over it, it is difficult to make out
exactly how it is fed ; but I think the fish is either
dropped at once on the rock, or dangled a little for it
to seize hold of. It is in the bringing up and looking
after of the chick that one begins to see the meaning
of the sitting guillemots being always turned towards
the clifi", for from the moment that the egg is hatched
one or other of the parent birds interposes between
the chick and the edge of the parapet. Of course I
cannot say that the rule is universal, but I never saw
a guillemot incubating with its face turned towards
the sea, nor did I ever see a chick on the seaward
side of the parent bird who was with it.

I observed that the chick — even when, as I judged
by its tininess, it had only been quite recently hatched
— was as alert and as w^ell able to move about as a
young chicken or partridge ; but whilst possessing all
the power, it appeared to have little will to do so.
Its lethargy — as shown by the way in which, even
when a good deal older, it would sit for hours with-
out moving from under the mother — struck me as
excessive; and it would certainly seem that on a
bare, narrow ledge, to fall from which would be cer-
tain death, chicks of a lethargic disposition would

316 Home Life on the Rocks.

have an advantage over others who were fonder of
running about.

The young guillemot is fed with fish which are
brought from the sea in the parent's bill, and not — as
in the case of gulls — disgorged for them after having
been first swallowed. It is, however, a curious fact
that the fish when thus brought in are, sometimes
at any rate, headless. The reason of this I do not
know, but with the aid of glasses I have made quite
certain of it, and each time it appeared as though
the head had been cleanly cut ofi". Moreover, on
alighting on the ledge the bird always has the fish
(a sand-eel, whenever I saw it) held lengthways in
the beak, with the tail drooping out to one side of it,
and the head part more or less within the throat — a
position which seems to suggest that it may have been
swallowed or partially swallowed — whereas pufiins and
razor-bills carry the fish they catch crosswise, with head
and tail depending on either side.

I have once or twice thought that I saw a bird
which just before had no fish in its bill all at once
carrying one. But I may well have been mistaken; and
it does not seem at all likely that the birds should
usually carry their fish, and thus subject themselves to
persecution, if they could disgorge it without incon-
venience. With regard to the occasional absence of the
head, perhaps this is sometimes cut ofi" in catching the
fish.

Home Life on the Rocks

317

Seals.

Quite near to where I watch the guillemots there is
a little iron-bound creek or cove, walled by precipice,
guarded by mighty " stacks," and divided for some
way into two by a long rocky peninsula running out
from the shore.
On the rocks in
one of these al-
coves were lying
eight seals, which
were afterwards
joined by another,
making nine, whilst
in the adjoining one
were four — also, as
it happened, joined
by another, as I
watched — making fourteen in all
I had never seen before.

I watched these seals of mine on this, my hrst
meeting with them, for a considerable time from the
top of the cliffs — the glasses giving me a splendid
view — and soon knew more about them than I had
done before, and got rid of some popular errors. For
instance, I had always imagined that seals had one
set attitude for lying on the rocks — namely, flat on
their bellies — a delusion which every picture of them
in this connection had helped to foster. Imagine
my surprise and delight when it burst upon me
that only some three or four were in this attitude,
and that even these did not retain it for long. No ;
instead of being in this state of uninteresting ortho-

Common

such a sight as

318 Home Life on the Rocks.

dox}^, they lay in the most delightful free-thinking
poses, on their sides, showing their fine, portly,
columnar bellies in varying degrees and proportions ;
whilst one utter infidel was right and full upon his
broad back, yet looked like the carved image of some
old Crusader on the lid of his stone sarcophagus.
Every now and then they would give themselves
a hitch, and bring their heads up, showing their
fine round foreheads and large mild eyes ; a very
human — mildly human — and extremely intelligent
appearance they had, looking down upon them
from above. Again, they had the oddest or oddest-
appearing actions, especially that of pressing their
two hind feet or flippers together, with all their
five-webbed toes spread out in a fan, with an energy
and in a manner which suggested the fervent clasping
of hands. Then they would scratch themselves with
their fore feet lazily and sedately, raising their heads
the while, looking extremely happy, having some-
times even a beatific expression. And then again
they would curl themselves a little and roll more
over, seeming to expatiate and almost lose themselves
in large, luxurious ease — more variety and expression
about them lying thus dozing than one will see in
many animals awake and active.

Even in this little time I learnt that they were
animals of a finely touched spirit, extremely playful,
with a grand sense of humour, and filled " from the
crown to the toe, top-full " of happiness. Thus one
that came swimming up the little quiet bay, in quest
of a rock to lie upon, seemed to delight in pretending
to find first one and then another too steep and
difficult to get up on (for obviously they were not),

Home Life on the Rocks. 319

and would fling himself from off them in a sort of
little sham disappointment, gambolling and rolling
about, twisting himself up with seaweed, and gener-
ally having a most lively, solitary romp. A piece of
bleached spar, some four or -Q-ve feet long, happened
— and I am glad that it haj)pened — to be floating
in the water at quite the other side of the creek
and, espying it, this delightful animal swam over to
it, and began to play with it as a kitten might with
a reel of cotton or a ball of worsted. More frolic-
some, kitten-hearted, and withal intelligent play I
never saw. He passed just underneath it, and,
coming up on the opposite side, rolled over upon
it, cuffed it with one fore foot, again with the other,
flipped it then with his footy tail as he dived away,
and returning, in a fresh burst of rompiness, waltzed
round and round with it, embracing it, one might
almost say. At last, going off", he swam to a much
steeper rock than any he had made-beiieve to find
so difficult, and, scrambling up it with uncouth ease,
went quietly to sleep in the best possible humour.

What intelligence all this shows ! Much more, I
think, than the sporting of two animals together. This
seal was alone, saw the floating spar at a distance,
and swam to it with the evident intention of amusing
himself in this manner. Later, another seal played
with this same spar in much the same way ; yet both
of them seemed to be quite full-grown animals.

Then I saw something which looked like a spirit
of real humour, as well as fun. Three seals were
lying on a slab of rock together, and one of them,
raising himself half up, began to scratch the one
next him with his fore foot. The scratched seal

320 Home Life on the Rocks.

— a lady, I believe — took it in the most funny
manner, a sort of serio-comic remonstrance, shown
in action and expression : " Now do leave off, really.
Come now, do leave me alone " — and when this had
reached a climax the funny fellow left off and lay
still again ; but as soon as all was quiet, he heaved
up and began to scratch her again. This he did —
and she did the other — three times, at the least, and if
not to have a little fun with her I can hardly see why.

Shags.

Now I have found a nest with the bird on it, to
see and watch. It was on a ledge, and just within
the mouth of one of those long, narrowing, throat-
like caverns into and out
of which the sea, with all
sorts of strange, sullen
noises, licks like a tongue.
The bird, who had seen
me, continued for a long
time afterwards to crane
about its long neck from
side to side or up and down
over the nest, in doing which
it had a very demoniac ap-
pearance, suggesting some evil being in its dark
abode.

As it was impossible for me to watch it without
my head being visible over the edge of the rock I
was on, I collected a number of loose flat stones that
lay on the turf above, and, at the cost of a good
deal of time and labour, made a kind of wall or

Home Life on the Rocks. 321

sconce with loopholes in ifc, through which I could
look and yet be invisible. Presently the bird's mate
came flying into the cavern, and wheeling up as it
entered, alighted on a sloping slab of the rock just
opposite to the nest. For a little both birds uttered
low, deep, croaking notes in weird unison with the
surroundings and the sad sea-dirges, after which they
were silent for a considerable time, the one standing
and the other sitting on the nest vis-a-vis to each
other. At length the former, which I have no doubt
was the male, hopped across the slight space dividing
them on to the nest, which was a huge mass of sea-
weed. There were now some more deep sounds, and
then, bending over the female bird, the male caressed
her by passing the hooked tip of his bill through the
feathers of her head and neck, which she held low
down the better to permit of this. The whole scene
was a striking picture of affection between those dark,
wild birds in their lonely wave-made home.

The male bird now flies out to sea again, and after
a time returns carrying a long piece of brown sea-
weed in his bill. This he delivers to the female,
who takes it from him and deposits it on the heap,
as she sits. Meanwhile the male flies off again, and
again returns with more seaweed, which he delivers
as before ; and this he does eight times in the space-
of one hour and forty minutes, diving each time for
the seaweed with the true cormorant leap. Some-
times the sitting bird, when she takes the seaweed
from her mate, merely lets it drop on the heap, but
at others she places and manipulates it with some
care. All takes place in silence for the most part,
but on some of the visits the heads are thrown up,

(1.384) 21

322 Home Life on the Rocks.

and there are sounds — hoarse and deeply guttural —
as of gratulation between the two.

The nest of the shag is continually added to by
the male, not only while the eggs are in process of
incubation, but after they are hatched, and when the
young are being brought up. In a sense, therefore,
it may be said to be never finished, though for all
practical purposes it is so before the female bird
begins to sit. That up to this period the female
as well as the male bird takes part in the building
of the nest I cannot but think, but from the time
of my arrival on the island I never saw the two
either diving for or carrying seaweed together. Once
I saw a pair of birds together high up on the cliffs,
where some tufts of grass grew in the niches. One
of these birds only pulled out some of the grass, and
flew away with it, accompanied by the other.

It is not only seaweed that is used by these birds
in the construction of the nest. In many that I saw
grass alone was visible, though I have no doubt
seaweed was underneath it ; and one in particular
had quite an ornamental appearance, from being cov-
ered all over with some land plant having a number
of small blue flowers ; and this I have observed
in other nests, though not to the same extent. I
think it was on this same nest that I noticed the
picked and partially bleached skeleton— with the
head and wings still feathered — of a puffin. It had,
to be sure, a sorry appearance to the human — at
least to the civilized human — eye, but if it had not
been brought there for the sake of ornament, I can
think of no other reason ; and brought there or at
least placed upon the nest by the bird it must

Home Life on the Rocks. 323

almost certainly have been. The brilliant beak and
saliently-marked head of the puffin must be here
remembered. Again, fair-sized pieces of wood or
spar, cast up by the sea and whitened by it, are often
to be seen stuck amongst the seaweed, and on one
occasion I saw a bird fly with one of these to its
nest and place it upon it. In all this, as it seems
to me, the beginnings of a tendency to ornament the
nest are clearly exhibited.

Both the sexes share in the duty and pleasure of
incubation, and (as in some other species) to see them
relieve each other on the nest is to see one of the
prettiest things in bird life. The bird that you have
been watching has sat patiently the whole morning,
and once or twice, as it rose in the nest and shifted
itself round into another position on the eggs, you
have seen the gleam of them as they lay there " as
white as ocean foam in the moon." At last, when
it is well on in the afternoon, the partner bird flies
up and stands for some minutes preening itself ; while
the one on the nest, who is turned away, throws
back the head towards it, and opens and shuts the
bill somewhat widely, as in greeting, several times.
The new-comer then jumps and waddles to the
farther side of the nest, so as to front the sitting
bird, and sinking down against it with a manner and
action full both of affection and a sense of duty, this
one is half pushed, half persuaded to leave, finally
doing so with the accustomed grotesque hop. It
has all been done nearly in silence, only a few low,
guttural notes having passed between the birds
whilst they were close together. Just in the same
way the birds relieve each other after the eggs have

324 Home Life on the Rocks.

been hatched, and when the young are being fed and
attended to.

A shag is sitting on her nest with the young ones,
whilst the male stands on a higher ledge of the rock
a yard or so away. He now jumps down and stands
for a moment with head somewhat erected and beak
slightly open. Then he makes the great pompous
hop which I have described before, coming down
right in front of the female, who raises her head
towards him, and opens and closes the mandibles
several times in the approved ma^nner. The two
birds then nibble, as it were, the feathers of each
other's necks with the ends of their bills, and the
male takes up a little of the grass of the nest,
seeming to toy with it. He then very softly and
persuadingly pushes himself against the sitting bird,
seeming to say, " It's my turn now," and thus gets
her to rise, when both stand together on the nest
over the little ones. The male then again takes up
a little of the grass of the nest, which he passes
towards the female, who also takes it, and they toy
with it a little together before allowing it to drop.
The insinuating process now continues, the male in
the softest and gentlest manner pushing the female
away, and then sinking down into her place, where
he now sits, whilst she stands beside him on the
ledge. As soon as the relieving bird has settled itself
amidst the young, and whilst the other one is still
there — not yet having flown ofl" to sea — it begins
to feed them. Their heads — very small, and with
beaks not seeming to be much longer in proportion
to their size than those of young ducks — are seen
moving feebly about, pointing upwards, but with

Home Life on the Rocks. 325

very little precision. Very gently, and seeming to
seize the right opportunity, the parent bird takes
first one head and then another in the basal part,
or gape, of his mandibles, turning his own head on
one side in order to do so, so that the rest of the
long bill projects sideways beyond the chick's head
without touching it. In this connection, and while
the chick's head is quite visible, little, if any, more
than the beak being within the gape of the parent
bird, the latter bends the head down and makes that
particular action as of straining so as to bring some-
thing up which one is familiar with in pigeons. This
process is gone through several times before the bird
standing on the ledge flies away, to return again in
a quarter of an hour with a piece of seaweed, which
is laid on the nest.

As the chicks become older they thrust the head
and bill farther and farther down the throat of the
parent bird, and at last to an astonishing extent.
Always, however, it appeared to me that the parent
bird brought up the food into the chicks' bills in
some state of preparation, and was not a mere passive
bag from which the latter pulled fish in a whole
state. There were several nests all in unobstructed
view, and so excellent were my glasses that, practi-
cally, I saw the whole process as though it had been
taking place on a table in front of me. The chicks,
on withdrawing their heads from the parental throat,
would often slightly open and close the mandibles
as though still tasting something, in a manner which
one may describe as smacking the bill ; but on no
occasion did I observe anything projecting from the
bill when this was withdrawn, as one would expect

326 Home Life on the Rocks.

sometimes to be the case if umnodified fish were
pulled up. Always, too, the actions of the parent
bird suggested that particular process which is known
as regurgitation, and which may be observed with
pigeons, and also with the night-jar.

Young shags are at first naked and black, also
blind, as I was able to detect through the glasses.
Afterwards the body becomes covered with a dusky
gray down, and then every day they struggle more
and more into the likeness of their parents. They
soon begin to imitate the grown-up postures, and it
is a pretty thing to see mother and young one sit-
ting together with their heads held stately upright,
or the little woolly chick standing up in the nest and
hanging out its thin little featherless wings, just as
mother is doing, or just as it has seen her do. At other
times the chicks lie sprawling together either flat or
on their sides. They are good tempered and playful,
seize hold playfully of each other's bills, and will
often bite or play with the feathers of their parent's
tail. In fact, they are a good deal like puppies, and
the heart goes out both to them and to their loving,
careful, assiduous mother and father.

When both birds are at home, the one that stands
on the rock, by or near the nest, is ready to guard
it from all intrusion. Should another bird fly on
to the rock and alight, in his opinion, too near it,
he immediately advances towards him, shaking his
wings, and uttering a low grunting note which is
full of intention. Finding itself in a false position,
the intruding bird flies off; but it sometimes happens
that when two nests are not far apart, the sentinels
belonging to each are in too close a proximity, and

Home Life on the Rocks. 327

begin to cast jealous glances upon one another. In
such a case neither bird can retreat without some
loss of dignity, and, as a result, there is a fight.

I have witnessed a drama of this nature. The two
locked their beaks together, and the one which
seemed to be the stronger endeavoured with all his
might to pull the other towards him, which the
weaker bird, on his part, resisted as desperately, using
his wings both as opposing props and to push back
with. This lasted for some while, but the pulling
bird was unable to drag the other up the steeply-
sloping rock, and finally lost his hold. Instead of
trying to regain it, he turned and shuffled excitedly
to the nest ; and when he reached it, the bird sitting;
there stretched out her neck towards him, and opened
and shut her beak several times in quick succession.
It was as if he had said to her, " I hope you observed:
my prowess. Was it well done ? " and she had re--
plied, "I should think I did observe it. It was
indeed well done." On the worsted bird's ascending
the rock to get to his nest, the victorious one ran,
or rather waddled, at him, putting him to a short
flight up it. This bird was also cordially received
by his own partner, who threw up her head and
opened her bill at him in the same way, as though
sympathizing, and saying, " Don't mind him ; he's
rude." In such affairs, either bird is safe as soon
as he gets within close distance of his own nest;
for it would be against all precedent, and something
monstrous, that he should be followed beyond a
charmed line drawn around it.

Edmund Selous. {From ^' Bird Watching'' and " The Bird-
Watcher in the Shetlands." J. M. Dent and Co. By
jpermission.)

THE BIRDS OF SULE SKERRY.

ULE SKERRY is a tiny, barren, surf-
bleached islet, lying far out in the open
ocean, thirty-two miles west from Hoy
Head, about the same distance from
Cape Wrath, and thirty miles from the
nearest land, Farrid Head, in Suther-
landshire. The Skerry, roughly rhom-
boidal in outline, is about half a mile in length and
a quarter of a mile in its greatest width, and attains
a height of only forty-five feet in its central part.
All round the shore is a belt of bare, jagged rock,
where the wash of the great Atlantic waves prevents
any vegetation from finding a foothold, and of the
thirty-five acres or so which form the entire area
of the island only some twelve are covered with a
mossy, vegetable soil.

Lying, as it does, right in the track of trading
vessels, this low islet, together with the Stack, which
rises to a height of more than a hundred feet some
four and a half miles to the south-westward, formed
a death-trap to many a ship, which was, no doubt,
afterwards merely reported as "missing," and its
shores when visited were rarely found without some
stranded wreckage to tell of the unrecorded tragedies

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

329

of the winter seas. It was not till the year 1892 that
steps were taken to mark this dangerous rock, but
three years later saw the completion o£ Sule Skerry
Lighthouse, a massive tower of a hundred feet in
height, with a powerful light visible for a distance of
eighteen miles.

Sule Skerry is no longer either a dangerous or a
lonely islet when com-
pared with its former
state. The three light-
keepers who are always
on duty, together with
their goats, poultry, and
rabbits, give quite an in-
habited air to the place —
probably too much so for
the comfort of the original
occupants, the flocks of
birds which find on it
either a permanent home
or a temporary dwelling-
place. Sule Skerry is an
ideal place for observation
of the birds which frequent
our islands, both from the ^""^^ ^^'''''^ Lighthouse.

immense numbers of them which nest there, and from
the absence of high cliffs or inaccessible rocks. Luckily
for us, one of the lightkeepers formerly on this station,
Mr. Tomison, a native of Orkney, was a man unusually
well qualified for such observation, and he has recorded
much that is of interest regarding the bird life of the
Skerry. From one of his papers on this subject
we quote the following interesting pages.

330 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

The Residenters.

The birds of Sule Skerry may be divided into three
classes — the residenters, the regular visitors, and the
occasional visitors. The class of residenters is repre-
sented by the great black-backed gull, the herring
gull, the shag or green cormorant, and the meadow
pipit.

The great black-backed gull is one of the hand-
somest birds of the gull family, but owing to its

destructive propensi-
ties amongst small
birds, rabbits, and
occasionally young
lambs, a continual
warfare has been
waged against it for
years by farmers and
gamekeepers, until
now it is almost en-
tirely banished to the

Great black-hacked yull. outlying parts of the

country. Before the lighthouse was erected on Sule
Skerry, large numbers of this species frequented the
island ; but the lightkeepers found them such arrant
thieves that they reduced their numbers considerably.
There are still about twenty pairs resident on the island
all the year round, and they seem to find plenty of food
either on land or at sea. Their breeding-time is in May,
and sometimes as late as June. When the young are
hatched the parents are continually on the lookout
for food, and I have often seen them swoop down and
seize young rabbits. Frequently they make desperate

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 331

efforts to capture the old rabbits, but never successfully.
THey lay three eggs in a nest composed of withered grass,
and the process of incubation lasts about four weeks.

A small colony of
herring gulls stays
on the island all the
year round, but in
summer vast flocks
of them are in evi-
dence when the her- ^ — -~ -'

rings are on the coast. ^^^^^^^ ^''^^■

Only the residents remain to breed, and about a dozen
pairs annually rear their young and spend their whole
time in the vicinity. Some of the young must
emigrate to a more genial climate, for although rarely
disturbed their numbers are not increasing. They lay
three eggs early in May, and sit about four weeks.
When hatched, the young immediately leave the nest,
and are so like the surrounding rocks in colour that
when they lie close it is almost impossible to discover
them. When hunting for food for their offspring, these
gulls are almost as great a pest as their cousins, the
great black-backed, and are more audacious thieves.

The most numerous of the residenters are the
scarfs. In summer and winter they are always on
the island, and apparently there is an abundant
supply of suitable food in the vicinity, for they
never go far away. During winter they congregate
on the rocks in large flocks or colonies, and they have
become so accustomed to man's presence that they fly
only when one approaches within a few yards of them.
In very stormy weather they seek refuge in some
sheltered spot, far enough away from the coast-line

332 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

to be safe from the encroaching waves, and only when
frightened by any one approaching too near do they
choose what is, in their opinion, the lesser of two evils,
and seek safety in flight. With the advent of spring
they, like all other birds, turn their thoughts to love.
Their comparatively homely winter dress gradually
changes to one more appropriate to this sentiment
and more in harmony with the imposing surroundings.
Early in the year their plumage assumes a greener
tint, and the graceful tuft or crest on the top of the
head becomes more and more prominent. This crest
practically disappears about the end of June, and
seems to be a decoration in both sexes only during
the nuptial season. Usually they manage to get
through with their love-making and selecting of part-
ners by the middle of March, after which the operations
of nest-building are undertaken.

In Orkney we associate a scarf's nest with some
almost inaccessible cliff, but such is not the case on
Sule Skerry, for the simple reason that there are no
clifls. The nests are built all over the island, but
principally near the coast-line; and the sociableness of
the bird's disposition shows itself in this fact, that
they tend to crowd their nests together in certain
selected spots, to which they return year after year.
One place in particular, a patch of rough, rocky
ground from forty to fifty yards square, I have
named the scarf colony on account of its numerous
population during the breeding season. Here in
1898 I counted fifty-six nests.

As to the materials used for nest -building, these
are principally seaweed and grass, but the scarf is not
very particular as to details, and uses anything that

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 333

will suit the purpose. I have found pieces of ordinary
rope, even wire rope, and small pieces of wood used, and
a very common foundation is the skeleton of a rabbit
which has died during the winter. During building
operations I have observed that one bird builds and the
other brings the ma-terials. After all has been com-
pleted, three, four, and sometimes five eggs are laid.
Three is the most common number; five is rare.
During incubation the one bird relieves the other
periodically. It is a common sight to see one come in
from the sea, sit down at the edge of the nest, and hold
a long palaver with its mate. The sitting bird then
gets up and files out to sea, the other taking its place.

When the young come out of the egg they are
entirely naked, of a dark sooty colour, and particularly
ugly. Towards the end of the first week of their
existence a coating of down begins to grow, followed
by feathers in about three weeks. As near as I can
judge from observation, the bird is fully fledged in
five weeks from the time of hatching.

The only other residenter is the meadow-pipit, tit-
lark, or moss-cheeper. It is
the only small bird that re-
mains on the island all the
year round. It nests gener-
ally in May, and lays five
or six eggs. It is said that
two broods are raised in the
season, but I have never
noticed that here. Towards Meadow-pipit.

the end of summer they are to be seen in considerable
numbers, but in September and October the island
is visited by kestrels, who soon thin them down.

334

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

The Regular Visitors.

The regular visitors are puffin, razor-bill, common
guillemot, black guillemot, oyster-catcher, tern, eider
duck, kittiwake, stormy petrel, curlew, snipe, turn-
stone, and sand-piper. In this list I have advisedly
placed first the puffin, or tammynorie, or bottlenose,
or coulterneb, or pope, or sea-parrot, for it is a well-
known and well-named bird. In point of interest
it undoubtedly takes the first place among all our

feathered friends. Its re-
markable appearance, its
activity, its assertive disposi-
tion, and the regularity of its
habits, compel the attention
of the most careless observer.
At one time puffins were
much in demand for food.
An old history of the Scilly
Islands tells us that in 1345
the rent of these islands was
three hundred puffins. In
1848, on account of the bird
having got scarcer, and con-
sequently more valuable, the rent was fifty puffins.
We are also led to understand that the young birds,
being plump and tender, were more highly esteemed
than their more elderly and tougher relatives.

The most remarkable feature of this curious bird is
its beak, the peculiarities of which are its enormous
size compared with the size of the body, and its
brilliant colours — blue, yellow, and red. For a long
time it was a puzzle that occasional dead specimens

Puffin.

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 335

found washed ashore in winter had a beak very
much smaller and destitute of bright colours. It
has now been ascertained that the outer sheath is
moulted annually, being shed on the approach of winter
and replaced at the return of the breeding season.

To give any idea of their numbers on Sule Skerry
is an almost impossible task, for when they are on the
island they are hardly ever at rest. The air is black
with them, the ground is covered with them, every
hole is tenanted by them, the sea is covered with
them. They are here, there, and everywhere.

They first make their appearance early in April,
and spend from eight to twelve days at sea before
landing, coming close in round the island in the
forenoon and disappearing at night. Before landing
they fly in clouds round the place, and after having
made a survey to see that all is right, they begin
to drop in hundreds, till in half an hour every stone
and rock is covered. They do not waste time, but
start at once to clear out old holes and make new
ones, and for burrowing they can easily put a rabbit
in the shade. Those who are not engaged in digging
improve the shining hour by fighting, and for pluck
and determination they are hard to beat. They are
so intent on their work that I have often seized the
combatants, and even then they were unwilling to let
go their hold of each other ; but when they do, it is
advisable for the person interfering to let go also, if
he would avoid a rather unpleasant handshake.

After spending a few hours on the island they all
disappear, and do not usually land again for two days;
but when they do come back the second time there
is no ceremony about their landing. They come in

336 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

straggling flocks from all points of the compass, and
resume their digging and fighting. They continue in
this manner, never remaining ashore all night till the
first week of May. They spend very little time on
the construction of their nests, which consist merely
of a few straws. The greater number burrow in the
dry, peaty soil, and their holes will average at least
three feet underground ; but there are also an immense
number that lay amongst loose rocks and stones on
the north side of the island. The eggs laid there are
always clean and white until the young bird is
hatched ; but those laid underground in a day or
two become as brown as the soil, and seem more like
a lump of peat than an egg. During the time of
incubation, which lasts a month, those not engaged in
hatching spend their time in fishing and resting on
the rocks, and as a pastime indulge in friendly spar-
ring matches.

One easily knows when the young are hatched by
seeing the old birds coming in from sea with herring
fry or small sand-eels, which are carried transversely
in their bills, from six to ten at a time. The sole
work of the parent birds for the next three or four
weeks is fishing and carrying home their takes to the
young. Very little time is given to nursing. They
remain in the hole just long enough to get rid of
their burden, and then go to sea again. As the
young ones grow, the size of the fish brought home
increases. At first it is small sand-eels from one and
a half to two inches long, but at the end of a fortnight
small herrings and moderate-sized sand-eels are the
usual feeding. I noticed an old bird fly into a hole
one day with a bigger fish than usual, and, to see

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 337

what it was, I put in my hand and pulled out both
birds. The tail of the fish was just disappearing
down the young one's throat, but I made him disgorge
his prey, and found it to be a sand-eel eight inches
lon£. How that small bird could find room for such
a dinner was really wonderful.

At first the young are covered with a thick coating
of down, and probably their appearance at this stage
has given rise to the name " pufiin," meaning a " little
puff"." In a fortnight the white feathers on the breast
begin to show, and the birds are fully fledged in four
weeks, when they at once take to the water. As
soon as they go afloat, young and old leave the place,
and about the middle of July one can easily see that
their numbers are decreasing, the end of August
usually seeing the last of them.

There is a considerable colony of razor-bills on the
island. Their time of arrival is about the same as
that of the puffin, but they make no
commotion when they come. They
seem to slip ashore, and always keep
near the coast-line, ready to fly to
sea when any one approaches. They
begin laying towards the end of
May, and lay one egg on the bare
rock, usually under a stone, but in
some cases on an exposed ledge. Razor-hiii.

During incubation one bird relieves the other, for
if the egg were left exposed and unprotected the
black-backed gull would very soon appropriate it.
Some authorities say that the male bird brings food
to its mate ; but I have never observed this, though I
have watched carefully to see if such were the case.

(1,384) 22

338 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

The young remain in the nest, or, to speak more
correctly, on the rock, for about two weeks if not
disturbed, and I have seen a young one remain ashore
until covered with feathers, which w^ould mean about
four weeks from the time of hatching. They all,
young and old, leave early in August. I am sorry to
say they are becoming scarcer every year, chiefly on
account of their shyness and fear of man.

The common guillemots are scarce. Their great
haunt in this vicinity is the Stack. There they are
to be seen in myriads on the perpendicular side of
the rock facing the west. Only two or three pairs
take up their abode on the island ; in fact their
numbers scarcely entitle them to be called Sule
Skerry birds. The few young ones I have seen are
carried to the water as soon as they are hatched —
at least they disappear the same day.

Black guillemots or tysties are plentiful. Their
time of arrival is about the middle of March, but the}^
are rarely seen ashore before the end of April. Their
nests are to be found in out-of-the-way crevices or
under stones, and are not easily discovered on account
of the extraordinary watchfulness of the birds and
their care not to be caught on or near their nests.
They lay two eggs, and the young are fully feathered
before going afloat. They remain about the island till
the end of September.

The first of all the visitors to arrive are the oyster-
catchers. They first put in an appearance about the
end of February, when their well-known cry denotes
that the long, dreary winter is over. They spend
their time till the end of March chiefly feeding along
the coast-line ; but after that time they pair, and are

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 339

seen all over the island. About the end of May they
lay three eggs in a nest composed of a few small
stones ; and when the young are hatched the noise of
the old birds is perfectly
deafening on the approach
of an intruder, and even
when no one is annoying
them the clamour they make
almost amounts to a nui-
sance. On calm, quiet nights

it is hardly possible to sleep Oyster-catcher.

for them, and one feels inclined to get out of bed and
shoot them down wholesale. The young leave the
nest as soon as hatched, and are rarely seen, for on
hearing the warning cry of the parent bird they at
once hide among the long grass or under stones, and
on one occasion I found a pair some distance under-
ground in a rabbit's hole. They all leave the island
during the first half of September.

Next to the puffins in numbers are the terns — the
Arctic terns. They are also like the puffins in the
regularity of their arrival at the island. When first
seen they are flying high up, and they continue doing
so for a day or two, only resting at night. There are
several varieties of terns scattered all over the British
Isles, but in the north the most numerous are the
Arctic and the common tern. The latter rarely visits
the island.

There are certain localities where the terns take up
their abode, and they stick closely to the same ground
year after year, never by any chance making a nest
twenty yards outside their usual breeding ground.
They begin to lay in the first week of June, but 1

340 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

have found eggs on the last day of May. They lay
two eggs, and sometimes three. When the young are
hatched the parents are kept busy supplying them

with food, which consists
chiefly of sand-eels and
herring fry. Their method
of fishing is to hover over
the water, not unlike the
way a hawk hovers when
watching its prey, and when

Arctic tern. ^^^^ ^^^ ^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^.^ ^

dart on it, rarely if ever failing to make a haul. They
also prey on worms when it is too stormy for fishing
at sea. On a wet evening, when the worms are having
an outing, the terns are to be seen in hundreds all over
the island, hovering about six feet above the ground,
every now and again making a dart down, and, when
successful, flying home with their catch to the young.
No time is lost, for the old bird seldom alights when
handing over the worm. It swoops down to where
the young ones are standing with outstretched necks
and bills gaping, screaming out to let their where-
abouts be known, and then flies off again for more.
When the young are able to fly they accompany their
parents over the island, and occasionally do a little
hunting on their own account.

About the first of August the young are fully fledged.
Young and old then assemble from all parts of the island
to a piece of bare, rocky ground on the north-east corner,
which they make their headquarters for about ten days,
flying out to sea for food, but always returning at
night. About the fifteenth of August they all dis-
appear, and are seen no more till the following May.

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

341

Stormy petrel.

The island is the headquarters of a large colony of
stormy petrels. It is not an easy matter to fix the
exact date of their arrival, for they are never seen
during the day, and only come out of their holes at
night. They are first seen in
the latter end of June, when
on a fine clear night one can
see them flitting about close to
the ground, very like swallows
in their movements. They
begin to lay in July, and their
nests are to be found under
stones and in rabbits' holes.
Almost the only way to find them is to listen for
their peculiar cry, which they keep up at intervals
the whole night through. If captured during the day,
they seem quite dazed when released, and at once fly
into some dark place. The date of their departure,
like that of their arrival, is not easily fixed, but I

think it is during Sep-
tember. Young birds have
been o^ot on the lantern at
night as late as the end of
September, but never in
October.

The eider duck is a regu-
lar visitor, and a consider-
able flock make Sule Skerry
their headquarters for about
eight months in the year. They are first seen in
March fishing ofi" the island, but they very rarely
land before the end of April. In May they may be
seen ashoie every day, but always near the water.

Eider duck {male).

342

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

ready to pop in if alarmed. They are very shy and
difficult to approach. In June the duck and the
drake both come ashore and select a place for their
nest, and that is the only occasion on which the
drake takes a part in the hatching process. So far
as my observation goes, I have never seen him
approach his mate during the month of incubation.

The nest is built sometimes on a bare rock, but
more commonly among grass, and consists of coarse
grass for a foundation, the famous down being added
only as the eggs are laid. Five or six is the common

number found in one
nest. From the time
it begins to sit until in-
cubation is completed,
the duck never leaves
the nest unless dis-
turbed, and will only
fly to sea if driven ofl:
If approached quietly,
it will allow one to
stroke it, and does not seem afraid. There are
always one or two nests close to the house, and
though I have watched them closely at all hours,
night and day, I have never seen the birds go away
for food, nor have I seen their undutif ul spouses bring
any to them. I will not venture to say that the duck
lives a month without sustenance, but I am strongly
inclined to that belief. When frightened away, it
goes only a short distance, and returns immediately
as soon as the cause of its fright has been removed.

The whole inside of the nest is lined with down,
which seems to be intended only for the purpose of

Eider duck on nest.

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

343

Kittiwahc.

keeping the eggs warm. It is certain!}^ not intended

to form a cosy nursery for the young, as they leave

for the sea a few hours after birth and do not return.

Unless the down is removed before the young are

hatched it is useless, for it gets mixed up with the

egg-shells, which are always

broken into very small pieces.

After leaving the nest the

young birds rarely come

ashore again, but remain

afloat, feeding along the

edo:e of the rocks on mussels

and crustaceans. The old

birds disappear in October,

but some young ones remain till the end of November.
Few kittiwake gulls visit the island, but these

come regularly, and take up their abode on the same

ground year after year. They arrive in April, and

about the flrst of May begin nest -building, a work

which keeps them employed for about three weeks.

They begin laying about

the end of May, and lay

three eggs. The young are

fully grown before leaving

the nest, and are fed by

both the parent birds. They
Curlew or whaup. ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ .^^^^^ ^^^^^

the end of August, and not even a straggler is seen
till the following spring.

I have now gone over all the birds that breed on
Sule Skerry, and come next to the regular winter
visitors, consisting of the curlew, the snipe, the
turnstone, and the common sandpiper.

dU The Birds of Sule Skerry.

- About a dozen curlews or whaups make the island
their home for about nine months of the year. They
leave about the end of May and return in August,
remaining on the island all winter. Their number
always keeps about the same — twelve or fifteen.
They have the same characteristics as those found
elsewhere — their extraordinary alertness and their
peculiar cry — but they are distinctly less shy than
is usually the case in other parts of the country.
They are never disturbed in any way, and the result
is that, if any one wished; it would be an easy matter
to get within gunshot of them. Their chief food is
worms and insects, of which there is a plentiful supply
on the island.

When the curlews leave the island, a few whimbrels
take their place, and remain about six weeks. They
breed in Orkney and Shetland, but though they
remain on the island most of the breeding season
I have never yet found a nest. I have spent many
an hour watching them from the light-room with the
glass to see if they were sitting, and have gone over
the ground where they are most frequently seen, but

could never find an egg or
any attempt at nest build-
ing. They are very much
like the curlew in general ap-
pearance, only much smaller.
The snipe leaves the is-
land in May, and is absent
''^^^^^' about four months, usually

returning in October. None, so far, have ever nested
on Sule Skerry, and they all go elsewhere for that pur-
pose. There is a considerable number of them resident

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

345

^'-'^

Turnstone.

during the winter, larger in some years than in others.
They sometimes get killed by dashing against the
lantern at night, but it is not often they fly so high.

The turnstone always spends the winter on the
island, arriving about the end
of August or the first of Sep-
tember, and from then on till
April it spends its time feeding
on insects. On Sule Skerry
it is in no way afraid of man,
but rather the opposite, for it
depends a good deal on the ^y
lightkeepers for its livelihood
in stormy weather. Whenever
the lightkeepers go to feed their
hens, the turnstones gather
from all parts of the island and sit round at a respect-
ful distance — about a dozen yards — waiting for their
share, which they receive regularly every day, and
they seem to enjoy it very much. The lightkeepers

often turn over big stones to
enable the hens to feed on
the insects which are there
in immense quantities. The
turnstones have learned the
meaning of this operation, and
whether the hens are present
or not, they soon gather round
for a feast when one retires
a short distance. A few specimens of the common
sandpiper always accompany them, but they feed more
amongst the seaweed along the coast-line, and are
more afraid of the approach of man.

Sandpiper.

346 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

Occasional Visitors.

We now come to the third class, the occasional
visitors. These are the wild goose, the mallard or
stock duck, the teal, the widgeon, the Iceland gull,
the Sclavonian grebe, the heron, the kestrel, the
hooded crow, the rook, the lapwing, the golden plover,
the redshank, the corncrake, the water rail, the field-
fare, the redwing, the snow-bunting, the starling, the
song thrush or mavis, the blackbird, the water- wagtail,
the stonechat, the woodcock, the skylark, the twite or
mountain linnet, the robin, the swallow, the black-
headed gull, and the little auk.

Wild geese pass the island on their way south in
October, but very rarely rest. Occasionally a flock
will hover round for some time, but the sight of a
human habitation scares them away, and they continue
on their way in the direction of Cape Wrath. Last
October half a dozen were seen resting on the island
one morning about eight o'clock. They seemed to be
feeding in one of the fresh-water pools, but all they
would find there would not fatten them. Sule Skerry
is a very likely place for them to call at, as it is right
in their track when on the way
to and from Iceland and Faroe,
but perhaps the island being
inhabited causes them to ©ive it
a wide berth. At any rate very
few of them ever honour it with
a visit.

Mallard. rpj^^ mallard pays the island

frequent visits during the winter, two and three at a-
time. They never stay long, for there is very little

The Birds of Sule Skerry.

347

feeding for them. They are particularly shy, resting
only on the most outlying parts, and seeming continu-
ally on the watch. Teal and widgeon are not common.
Of the former one sees a specimen or two every winter,
while of the latter only two have visited the island, and
that was in March 1897, when they stayed a few days.

In November 1895 an Iceland gull arrived on the
island, and remained to the end of February following.
It became fairly tame, sitting the greater part of the
day near the house on the watch for any scraps of
meat that were thrown out. Hopes
were entertained that it intended
remaining permanently on the is-
land, but on the approach of the
breeding season it departed. In
1898 one stayed for a week in
November; in the following year
another was seen on the 23rd of
November. This one was fishing
in company with some common
gulls, and occasionally flew over
the island quite close to the tower;
but I did not see it alight, nor
was it seen again on any of the following days.

The common heron every year spends a day or two
on the island, generally in October or November, but
it never seems at home. They wander about in
search of food, but apparently do not find very much.
When leaving the island they always, without excep-
tion, fly in the direction of Cape Wrath, but where
they come from I cannot say, never having noticed
them arriving.

The hooded crow is an annual visitor, generally in

Heron.

348 The Birds of Sule Skerry.

November, and it sometimes comes for a short visit in
April. Two or three is the common number at one
time. There is, however, not much food for them,
and on that account their visit is soon over. A few
rooks call about the same time.

Every year in April the lapwings make the island
a resting-place, staying from a week to a fortnight.
The place does not seem to suit them for nesting
purposes, for I have never seen them make any
attempt at nest-building. After resting and renewing
their strength, they seek out some more hospitable
part of the country. Small flocks of the golden
plover also rest on the island on their passage north
in March and April, and again on their way south in
October and November, staying from eight to twelve
days. There are also a few straggling visitors during
the winter.

The common redshank is a frequent visitor, staying
perhaps a week at a time, but it never nests on the
island. In 1896 a corncrake's well-known song was
heard during the greater part of June. It was heard
again the following season, but never since. The bird,
however, is occasionally seen in summer. The only
way I can account for its silence is that the goats and
rabbits never allow the grass to grow to any length,
and thus there is no cover for it. I think most
ornithologists are now satisfied that this bird mi-
grates to a warmer climate every year on the approach
of winter. Whether such is the case or not I do not
feel prepared to say, but from my experience of Sule
Skerry I am quite satisfied it is only a summer visitor
there, and does not remain on the island all winter.
The water -rail pays the island a visit every winter.

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 34&

but I do not think there is any danger of its being mis-
taken for the corncrake. They are a little like one an-
other in shape, but they are two dis-
tinct species, and easily recognized.

In October and November the
island is visited annually by con-
siderable numbers of fieldfares, red-
wings, blackbirds, rock -thrushes,
starlings, and woodcocks. They ^ccter-razL

generally stay from a week to a fortnight, and are
more numerous some years than others. Water-
wagtails are rare visitors, seen at various times of
the year. Stonechats are also rare visitors, only
staying a few days in May. The skylark, so common
everywhere else, is a very rare visitor, and is only seen
or heard once or twice during the summer months.
Kobin redbreast is always seen in the autumn, and
generally stays a few weeks if the weather is moderate.
The twite or mountain linnet pays an occasional visit
in summer, and stays for some time ; but I have never
yet found a nest, and cannot say if it breeds on the
island. In June every year a few sparrows spend
a fortnight on Sule Skerry. Snow-buntings almost
deserve the name of regular winter visitors, for from
October to March they are seldom long absent.

Last September I got a bird which I knew to
belong to the grebe family, but I could not be sure of
its proper name, and I sent it to Mr. Harvie Brown
for identification. He informed me it was a Sclavonian
grebe, a bird not very common in this part of the
country. In November 1897 I found a dead speci-
men of the little auk.

Though not a Sule Skerry bird, the solan goose

350 The Birds of Sule Skerry

deserves notice in this paper. The Stack, distant
four and a half miles, has been their chief breeding
place in Orkney for ages, and every year it is tenanted
by immense numbers. The rock is 140 feet high,
rising perpendicularly on the west, but sloping grad-
ually from the water to the summit on the east
side. It is on this slope that the solans congregate,
and no other bird is allowed to trespass on their
preserves. In May, June, July, and August their
numbers are so vast that any one seeing the rock
at a distance would imagine it was painted white or

composed of chalk. Sule
Skerry, however, is too far
distant to allow of one form-
ing any idea of their num-
bers, but looking at them
with the glass one sees the
rock simply covered, and
apparently as many flying
about as resting. Lewis

Solan goose. . . , , , ,

men visit the place annu-
ally in August, and carry away a boatload of young
birds. Last year they came up to the rock, but there
was too much surf for a landing, and as the weather
was threatening they headed for the Sutherlandshire
coast. That night the wind blew half a gale, and fears
were entertained that it would prove too much for them,
for their boat was small and hardly powerful enough to
be so far from home ; but a few days later they again
approached the rock. They again failed to negotiate
it, and after waiting for about an hour they made sail
for home, and did not return. The weather certainly
favoured the solans on these occasions.

The Birds of Sule Skerry. 351

I have never seen a solan resting on Sule Skerry ;
they even carefully avoid flying across the island,
though they fish in immense numbers all round, and
sometimes within forty or fifty yards of the shore.
They usually begin to arrive in the vicinity about the
end of January, and their numbers continue to increase
until the end of April, when they take possession of
the rock, and from then until the end of August their
name is legion. When the young are fledged, they
gradually disappear, and from the first of December
till the last days of January they are not to be seen.

Thus they go on year after year, a fraction of that
great feathered multitude which has come and gone since
the earliest ages, and will probably continue to come
and go as long as the world lasts, some arriving and
departing in silence, others heralding their coming and
going with the wildest clamour. On this subject, and
speaking of the northern isles, Thomson the poet says: —

" Where the ISTorthern Ocean, in vast whirls,
Boils round the naked melancholy isles
Of farthest Thule, and the Atlantic's surge
Pours in amongst the stormy Hebrides ;
Who can recount what transmigrations there
Are annual made 1 what nations come and go 1
And liow the living clouds on clouds arise,
Infinite wings ! till all the plume-dark air
And rude resounding shore are one wdld cry?"

J. ToMisoN {" Orcadian Papers").

COMMON SEAWEEDS.

SEVERE storm has been raojln^ for
several days on our shores,, and no
ship has dared to cross the Pent-
land. To-day a great calm has
fallen upon the face of the waters,
and the sun shines clear in the sky,
A walk by the seashore on such
a morning will afford an excellent
opportunity for collecting speci-
mens of our seaweeds, and for studying their life-
history.

Here they lie in all their varied colours, strewn
on the beach like autumn leaves in a forest. Now
is our chance to secure some of those rare and
beautiful weeds that grow in the deeper water,
and have been torn off and driven ashore by the
waves. If pressed and dried with care, they will
remain things of beauty for long. For this purpose
we use squares of stiff paper or card, on which
we spread them out carefully under water. When
pressed, they will adhere to the paper by means of
the mucilage which they contain.

The delicate fern-like or feathery fronds of those
red seaweeds will compare in beauty with the best
of our flowering plants. This is all the more wonder-

Common Seaweeds.

353

D£ I

D3

0 i

Common seaiveeds.—I.
A, Sargassum (Gulf -weed), b, Cladophora. c, Enteromorpha. d 1, Fiicus vesi-
culosus. D 2, Eeceptacle of same, with eggs and sperms, d 3, Egg, with sperms.
E, Polysiphonia.

ful when we consider their lowly origin. For the
family of the Algce, to which the seaweeds belong,
is the oldest and most primitive of all the families

(1,384) 23

354 Common Seaweeds.

of plants. To the Algae most likely belonged the
first forms of life which appeared on the earth.

If we are fortunate to-day we may find a specimen
of the famous Gulf -weed {Sargassuim), which gives
its name to the Sargasso Sea, and which is said
to have cheered Columbus on his celebrated voyage
of discovery. In the tropical Atlantic it covers
immense areas of the ocean, and it is occasionally
cast ashore on the Orkney coasts, drifted hither by
the Gulf Stream and the westerly winds. It is
easily recognized by its numerous little round air-
bladders, each on a separate branch.

Now let us turn our attention to the seaweeds
which we find growing on the beach around us.
In many a rock pool in the " ebb " we may see a
miniature forest of tiny weeds of beautiful colours
and forms, a veritable ocean garden. Near high-
water mark we find here and there in the pools
pretty green algae, some with broad, flat fronds, such
as the sea-lettuce (Ulva), and others with slender
branching featliery filaments (Cladophora). Many of
the green algae, however, prefer to live in fresh
water. If you make an aquarium, you will find the
sea -lettuce and the sea -grass (Enteromorpha) of
great value in keeping the water pure, owing to the
amount of oxygen which they give out.

Farther down on the beach the rocks are covered
thickly with algae of an olive-brown colour. The
rocks, indeed, would fare much worse in a storm if
the seaweeds were not there to protect them, as the
grass protects the soil of the fields.

Look more closely at those big brown sea-wracks
and you will notice that the most common kind

Common Seaweeds. 355

(Fucus vesiculosus) has little globular air-bladders
arranged in pairs along its flat, smooth-edged fronds.
Each blade has a distinct midrib, and where it di-
vides, like all the Fucus group, it splits into two equal
branches. On some of the little end branches you
may see a yellowish swelling dotted over with minute
knobs and pores. These swellings are receptacles
for holding the eggs and sperms, which are contained
in tiny cavities under each projecting knob. Many
seaweeds produce their fruit in winter, when the
land plants are sleeping and the fields are bare.

The microscopic sperms correspond to the pollen
and the eggs to the ovules of the flowering plants.
But there is one wonderful difference. The sperms
of the Fucus can move about freely by means of
two little projecting threads or cilia. When the tide
is out, both eggs and sperms come to the door of
their little houses by the help of the mucilage in
which they float; and when the sea comes back
swarms of these sperms swim away and wriggle
about, till one of them comes in contact with an
egg. It adheres to and fuses with the egg, which
thus becomes fertilized, and is then able to give rise
to a young plant. A similar process goes on in all
the plants of the Fucus group.

Here is one with notched or serrated edges (Fucus
serratus), and without a.ir-bladders ; there another
well known to every schoolboy as the "bell tang"
{Fucus nodosus), with large air-bladders in the
centre line of the frond, and yellow fruit-bodies
each on a branch of its own, without any trace of
midrib.

The air-bladders of the seaweeds are natural buoys,

356 Common Seaweeds.

by means of which the plants are kept erect in the
water. The mucilage which makes them so slippery
to walk over is of the utmost importance, as it
protects them from drought when they are left
uncovered by the tide. Seaweeds are very simple
in their structure, and have no true roots, stems,
or leaves. They do not need such organs, for every
part of their body is in contact with the water
which contains their food-supply.

What are those tufts of reddish-brown threads
growing all over the fronds of this Fucus ? That
is a red seaweed (Polysiphonia), which often makes
its home under the shelter of a more hardy plant.
In the red algse the sperms have no cilia, and cannot
move about of themselves, but the eggs have each a
long thread, corresponding to the stigma of the higher
plants, and against this thread the sperms are driven
by currents of water.

The little Fucus known as " teeting tang " (Fucus
canaliculatus) ought not to be passed unheeded. It
is often much relished by sheep and cattle. You
may know it by its greenish-brown colour and by
the distinct groove on one side all along its length.
It is found only in the upper part of the " ebb."
Another interesting plant of this group may be found
on the large rocks nearer low-water mark. It is
called the " sea-thong " (Himanthalia lorea), because
its fructification grows out from a button-shaped
base into long, forked, thong-like branches.

If the tide is far out, we shall be able to see the
tops of the "red- ware" standing out of the water,
and some of the tangles will be quite dry. These
tangles belong to the Laminaria group, the giants

Common Seaweeds.

357

-0^^^

7 /

Common seaweeds. — //.

F, Fucus canaliculatus. o, Himanthalia lorea. h, Laminaria digitata.

I, Ehodymenia. k, Chondrus crispus. l, Porphyra.

among the seaweeds. They contain a large amount
of iodine in their composition, and that is why they
are used for the manufacture of kelp. Notice how

358 Common Seaweeds.

firmly they cling to the sea-bottom by their strong
holdfasts, which have weathered many a storm.

An interesting feature in this group is their
manner of growth. The growing region lies at the
junction of the stalk with the blade. You will often
find a specimen in which the old blade is being
pushed away on the end of the young one, ready to
be broken off and cast adrift by the waves. The stalk
itself is perennial, but in some kinds of Laminaria
(Laminaria digitata, for example) the blade is usually
torn into s'hreds before it is thrown off.

A well-known ally of the tangles is the " merkal,"
also called "honey-ware." You can tell it by the
prominent midrib and the broad, thin wing on each
side, running all its length. This is one of the
edible seaweeds. Do you see this bright red palmate
plant growing under the shelter of the tangles ? It
is the common dulse (Rhodymenia palmata), which
may often be seen for sale on the streets of our
cities. Examine it well and taste it, and you will
be able to recognize it in future, however much it
may vary in form or colour. But do not eat too
much of it, for it is said to be somewhat indigestible.

Another edible seaweed which has been widely
used as an invalid food may be found in the lower
part of the " ebb," often under the shelter of larger
plants. This is the Irish moss or carrageen (Clion-
drus crispus). It is fleshy and pink in colour. A
jelly is made from it which is considered a great
delicacy.

The purple laver (Porphyra) is perhaps the most
valuable of the seaweeds as a food, and is said to
sell at a high price in Yokohama. In form it

Common Seaweeds. 359

resembles the sea-lettuce. Many other marine algse
have been used as food, and none o£ them are poi-
sonous. In North Eonaldsay the sheep seem to
esteem them highly as food.

The most important use of seaweed is to serve as
food for various kinds of molluscs, crustaceans, and
fishes. The "plankton" of the sea-surface — minute
one-celled algae — are very important in this way.
What grass is to the land animals, the marine algse
are to the living creatures of the sea. When driven
ashore by the waves, or when cut down by the once
familiar " hook," the larger seaweeds are much used
as manure for field crops. They thus repay the debt
they owe for any portion of their food that may have
come originally from the dry land.

Before returning from our walk let us haul
down this small boat from its " noust " and take a
bird's-eye view of the seaweeds in their natural
habitat. Throusrh the clear water beneath us we
can see the strange shapes of the submerged vege-
tation, dense and tangled, with here and there a
lazy sea-urchin on the broad red -ware, and the
sillocks actively swimming around. But our oars are
entangled in the " drew " {Chorda filuni), so full of
annoyance and even of danger to the swimmer.
Look at one of those long threads. It is covered
with hairs ; it tapers towards both ends, and its
fructification extends along its whole surface. In
structure it is a hollow tube divided into many
chambers.

What a variety of colours and shades we see as
we look down on this wonderful submarine scenery !
We notice that near high-water mark green is the

360

Common Seaweeds.

predominant colour, and that the lower belt is
mostly brown, while here at low- water mark and
beyond it, as well as under the shelter of the sea-
wracks and tangles, shades of red prevail. Beyond
the depth of thirty or forty fathoms seaweeds are
extremely rare, owing to the want of light at the
sea-bottom : seaweeds, like other plants, cannot take
in their food in darkness.

Notwithstanding their varied tints, the funda-
mental colour of all seaweeds is green, as you can
prove for yourselves by boiling a few brown speci-
mens, or soaking them for some time in fresh water.
You will find that the other colouring matters are
dissolved out, and only the green is left. The red
or brown pigments are probably of use in aiding
or in protecting the green colouring matter, chloro-
phyll, in its important work of assimilating the food
material.

r-\

CRABS.

'HEN I was a boy at school
we frequently amused our-
selves by catching crabs.
The scene of our operations
was the Peerie Sea, where
a wall had been built along
the shore. Here we used to
gather, armed with a piece of string and bait of some
kind, and we often spent a whole long evening perched
on the wall, fishing for crabs. The Peerie Sea was a
receptacle for all kinds of refuse, and formed a happy
hunting-ground for swarms of crabs.

When one thinks of catching crabs, one may
naturally imagine an excursion to the shore during
ebb-tide, and much turning over of stones and sea-
weed. Our method was quite different. We made
the crabs come to us. Our bait was a piece of fish
or anything of an animal nature, provided it was
fairly tough. No hook was necessary ; we simply
tied the end of the string round the bait.

The baited line was let down into the water, pref-
erably in the vicinity of a crab, and drawn slowly
along the bottom. If the animal was timid, and
not very hungry, he often scuttled off in a fright.

362

Crabs.

Usually, however, tie was both hungry and fearless,
and seized the bait at once, trying to drag it in among
seaweed or into a hole. Now came the exciting
part of the business. Our object was to haul him up
before he quitted his hold. The wall was high, and
he required careful management. Sometimes when
he was drawn up out of the water he would let go,
and fall back with a flop into the sea again ; some-
times he would hold on till he was drawn up over

Coriiiiion shore crab,

the wall, and then we shook him off on the pave-
ment behind.

Occasionally when we had no bait we would manage
to land a crab with a small stone or a cinder. So long
as the stone lies motionless on the bottom he pays no
attention to it. As soon as it begins to move, drawn
along by the string, the crab rushes at it and seizes
it with his claws, and it is some time before he finds
out his mistake. Not infrequently he will allow him-

Crabs. 363

self to be drawn quite out of the water, clinging to his
jfind. It is very amusing to see the crab worrying a
hard stone, then dropping it when he has discovered
it is not eatable,. and then seizing it again as it begins
to move away from him, just like a kitten with a
ball of wool. Apparently he cannot resist the idea
that movement means life.

The commonest kind of crab in Orkney is the green
shore-crab. \ He is on the whole a bold animal, but
when frightened he runs away with great speed. He
moves sideways, and thus meets with less resistance
from the water than if he were to move directly
forward. Usually, however, he does not walk fast,
but creeps over the bottom in a leisurely fashion.
When seizing his food he comes up to it " head on,"
his nipping claws held wide apart ; when he is near
enough, he suddenly brings them together, and begins
to tear up the food in little bits and pack it into
his mouth.

His eyes are placed on the tip of movable pro-
jections, so that they command a wide view. He
cannot see behind him, however, or under his body,
and he usually keeps his eyes fixed in the direction in
which he is going. When he is resting, his eyes are
ever on the watch. Ever^^ little movement on the
beach near him he notices at once.

The crab has a peculiar method of feeding. His
mouth is just under his head, and the opening is
guarded by two flat jointed plates, one on each side of
his mouth. If you pull these two plates apart — after
having arranged with a friend to hold his pincers —
3^ou can see where his mouth is, and you may notice
two strong things which look like teeth. These are

364 Crabs.

really his jaws ; they move from side to side, and not
up and down like our jaws. To see how he feeds,
you must put him into a glass jar, and look up from
below while he is eating a bit of fish. He tears it up
with his pincers, and puts little bits into his mouth,
the parts of which move from side to side as he
eats.

He is not very particular as to what he eats. He
is, indeed, a cannibal, and will eat the crushed leg of
another crab as readily as anything else. He is one
of the most useful animals on the beach, however,
and has been called the scavenger of the shore. In
fact, if one wishes to get the flesh cleaned off the
skeleton of any large animal, there is no easier method
than to lay it on the beach, well below high-water
mark, and build stones around it, leaving spaces
between them to admit crabs.

As we have already said, the crab is bold and fearless.
He is safe in his coat of armour, and his pincers are
powerful weapons of offence and defence. When
fighting he rears himself up and throws his nipping
legs far apart with the pincers wide open. He then
looks a formidable animal; and he really is formidable,
for with these legs he can protect almost any part of
his body, and the strength of his grip is considerable.

Take up a dead crab and examine his biting leg.
The different parts are joined by hinges. Each
hinge allows of motion only in one plane, but the
various planes are so adjusted that the limb can be
moved in almost any direction. Only one part of his
body cannot be touched by his pincers, and that is
his back. If you wish to grasp a live crab with
impunity, seize him across the back just where his

Crabs. 365

walking legs join the body. He may struggle as he
pleases, but he cannot nip you.

It is quite a common thing to find a shore crab
with one or more legs wanting, or with one large
pincer and one small one. What is the reason of this ?
It means that at one time or other the crab has had
a limb torn off in a fight, for the males are continually
fighting with one another. When a limb is lost it is
not a very serious matter, for a new limb soon begins
to grow on again, and after a time becomes as large
as the lost one.

There are times, however, when the crab is by no^
means pugnacious. One sometimes finds under a
stone a crab which has hardly enough spirit to lift
his pincers in self-defence. On touching him one
finds that he is quite soft. What has happened to
him ? He has recently been casting his coat ; for,
as the animal goes on growing within his shell, he
becomes too big for it, and the only thing he can do
is to burst the shell and come out of it, and then wait
for a bigger one to grow. When he is thus moulting,
he is glad to crawl away and hide till he is able to
face the world again. Many of the empty crab shells
that one picks up on the beach are the old cast-off
clothes of crabs still alive and vigorous. By examining
one of these we can see how thorough the process of
moulting is ; not only are the shells of his back and
his legs thrown ofi", but the covering of his eyes, his
feelers, his mouth parts, and even the inside lining of
his stomach, — for, strange to say, the wall of his
stomach is lined with the same kind of shell as the
outside of his body.

The crab is formed for living in water, but he>

366 Crabs.

can stand long exposure to the air. If you cover
him with damp garden soil or peat mould he will
survive for days. The reason is that so long as
his gills are kept damp he can breathe and live quite
well. The lobster breathes in exactly the same way,
and when lobsters are being shipped for the southern
markets they are put in boxes with layers of wet
seaweed to keep them alive.

Have you ever seen the beautiful set of gills
which the crab has ? If you find a dead crab that
has been lying on the beach for some little time,
you can easily remove the upper shell, leaving the
soft parts of the body with the legs attached. Just
above the attachment of the legs there is a series of
brown feathery-looking things which seem to cover
the whole side of the body. These are the gills.
They lie in a special chamber, occupying about half of
the whole space inside the shell. While the crab is
alive, the gills are continually bathed in a current of
water, which is pumped in through a small hole at the
side of his mouth and drawn out at another hole near
it. If the gills become dry the animal soon dies.

There is a curious pointed flap folded tightly across
the crab's body underneath, which is commonly called
its "purse." It used to be a schoolboy belief that
the crab carries its money here. The fact simply
is that the purse is kept closed for the sake of pro-
tection, as the skin underneath it is soft and might
easily be injured in a fight.

You have all seen the long tail of the lobster, with
its broad flaps at the end. By suddenly bending its
tail underneath its body the lobster is able to propel
itself backwards through the water at a great rate.

Crabs. 367

The crab and the lobster are, as you may know,
closely related, and the purse of the former corre-
sponds to the tail of the latter. The purse or tail
of the crab, however, is always tucked up under the
body, and is never used for swimming.

Both animals carry their eggs on this part of their
body, and you may occasionally find a crab with its
purse so full of eggs that it cannot be closed. These
eggs have a curious history. When they are hatched,
it is not a small crab that comes out, but a funny
little creature not in the least like its parent. It
has a rounded body and a long thin tail, and swims
actively about. At this stage it is called a zcea.
> By-and-by the creature settles down to the sea-
bottom and casts its shell. Its back is now broader
and its tail shorter, and it is provided with claws;
but it is still quite unlike a crab, and swims freely
about. It is now known as a mnegalo^a. Swarms
of these may be found clustered round seaweed and
other floating substances, both near the shore and in
deep water. As it grows it again casts its shell, but
it now tucks in its tail and settles down in life as a
real crab, though of course a very small one as yet :
you may find scores of them on tHe beach not much
bigger than a split pea.

Besides the green crab there are others which are
common on the sea-beach. One of these is the edible
-crab or " partan." This crab lives in somewhat deeper
water than the other, and is of a dark reddish or
purplish hue on the back, while its under parts are
white. It is not nearly so quick and active in its
movements as the green crab, but when it does get
hold of anything it has a stronger bite. In deep

368 Crabs.

water it grows to a giant size, and it is regularly
caught in creels and sold for food, as its flesh is firm
and good to eat. The flesh of the green crab, on the
other hand, is much softer and less abundant, and it
is not used for eating. Strangely enough, all crabs
turn red when boiled, whatever their colour when
alive.

Another curious crab is sometimes found in weedy
pools on the beach. This animal is of a spidery form,
and is much more difficult to see than an ordinary
crab, for he is elaborately disguised. His back and
legs are grown over with hairy brown seaweed, and
as he always lies among a mass of similar weed it is
impossible to detect him so long as he remains at rest.
When he does move, his movements are extremely
slow. If you take him out of the water, he looks a
most uncouth creature as he feebly sprawls about.
Place him back in the bunch of seaweed from which
he was taken, and he immediately adjusts himself
so as to become invisible. This is his mode of
escaping observation, for he is too slow and weak to
be able to defend himself.

Still another odd-looking crab may be found in
deep water. This animal has rather thin legs, while
its back is somewhat pear-shaped, the pointed end
being directed forwards. It is, however, a much
more active animal than the last mentioned, and we
may often see it from a boat as it climbs about
on the broad blades of the tangles. It is rarely found
on the beach, but the cast off" shell of the animal may
be found on almost any part of our shores.

One of the most interesting of our crabs is known
as the hermit-crab. He belongs to the family of

Crabs.

369

soft- tailed crabs, and in shape is more like the lobster
than the other crabs we have mentioned. The hinder
part of his body being without armour, he is forced
to seek an artificial defence, and this he finds in the
empty shell of a whelk or " buckie," into the spiral
coils of which he inserts his unprotected tail. These
creatures are generally called hermit-crabs, because
each lives in his own separate habitation, like a
hermit in his cell or like Diogenes in his tub ; but,
unlike these in
their habits, they
are so pugnacious
that they are also
known as soldier-
crabs.

Hermit - crabs
may be found
plentifully on the
shores, of various
sizes, and inhabit-
ing any kind of
shell that they
find to suit their

^ize If we look Hermit-crab [luith anemone on shell).

into a shallow sand-bottomed rock-pool, we may see
some of these shells moving about at a rate to which
they were quite unaccustomed during the life of their
builder and original occupier: we know at once that
each of these shells has now as a tenant one of those
interesting crabs.

By means of an apparatus at the extremity of his
tail the hermit holds firmly to his temporary abode,
and he flattens himself closely against the shell,

(1,384) 24

370 . Crabs.

leaving exposed only the one large pincer which is
specially fitted to bar the door against intruders.
It is difficult to seize the creature at all ; and even
when a grasp of any portion can be secured, the hold
of the tail is so firm that the animal runs some risk of
being torn apart rather than leave his shell.

A well-known writer on Natural History, the Kev.
J. G. Wood, has given an interesting account of the
hermit-crab, from which we quote the following
paragraphs : —

" The combative propensities of these creatures are
wonderful. If two hermits of fairly equal size are
placed in an aquarium, they are not content with
appropriating different portions of the vessel to
themselves, but must needs travel over it and fight
whenever they meet. This struggle is constantly
renewed, until one of them discovers his inferiority
and makes way whenever the victor comes near.
When they fight they do so in earnest, tumbling over
each other, and flinging about their legs and claws
with great energy. They are not at all particular
about diet so long as it is of an animal substance, and
will eat molluscs, raw meat, or even their own species.
More than once when a hermit has died I have
dropped the body into the water so as to bring it
within view of another , hermit. The little cannibal
caught the descending body in one of his claws very
dexterously, and holding it firmly with one claw he
picked it to pieces with the other, and pUt each
morsel into his mouth in a rapid and systematic
manner that w^as highly amusing.

" When a hermit desires to change his habitation, he
goes through a curious series of performances. A

Crabs.

371

shell lies on the ground, and the hermit seizes it with
his claws and his feet and twists it about with
wonderful dexterity, as if testing its weight ; and after
having examined every portion of its exterior, he
proceeds to satisfy himself about its interior. For
this purpose he pushes his fore legs as far into the
shell as they will reach, and probes every spot that
can be touched. If this examination satisfies him, he
whisks himself into the new shell with such rapidity
that he seems to have been acted upon by a spring.
Such a scene as this will not be witnessed in the sea
unless the hermit is forcibly deprived of his shell, but
when hermits are placed in a tank or vase they seem
to be rather fond of ' flitting.' "

HOPPERS AND SHOLTIES.

F the great multitude of different ani-
mals which live on the seashore
possibly the most numerous are
the little creatures known as
" sholties " or " Shetland sholties."
They are to be found on almost
every beach. Their peculiar shape,
flattened on the sides, their habit of hiding in crowds
under stones or seaweed, their intense alarm when
they are suddenly exposed, and their vigour in escap-
ing into a new hiding-place, are known to every
schoolboy. They look very diflerent from their pug-
nacious relatives, the crabs ; they are feeble creatures,
more ready to escape from danger than to offer fight.
Yet they are most interesting little animals, and the
more one watches their ways the more one comes
to understand their wonderful adaptation to their
surroundings.

Though their general appearance is quite familiar,
it is not so commonly known that there are many
different varieties of these creatures. As a matter of
fact, there are scores of different kinds, some living
on the beach, some just below extreme low- water
mark, and others in the deep sea. We shall concern
ourselves here only with those that live on the beach.

Hoppers and Sholties.

373

Shore-hopper {Orchestia).

There are three common kinds which every one
ought to know. Two of these, curiously enough,
though beach animals are not really sea animals.
They are hardly ever in the water ; they live on
the fringe of beach
which lies just above
higli - water mark.
The sea reaches them
but rarely, and they
never voluntarily
seek the water.
These two kinds
are known as the
shore - hopper (Or-
chestia) and the
sand -hopper (Tali-
trus), the latter
being found mostly
on sandy beaches,
where they make
little burrows in
which to hide, and
the former living
under stones or
among the decaying
seaweed on stony
beaches. They both
get their name of
" hopper" from their

habit of leaping or springing into the air, by means
of which they often avoid capture by enemies.
French people call them " sea-fleas."

The third variety, which is probably best known of

Sand-hopper {Talitrus).

Sholtie [Gammarus).
(All magnified about three times.)

374 Hoppers and Sholties.

all, and to which the name of " sholtie " is here more
especially applied, is that which occurs farther down
on the beach in places which are constantly wet with
sea- water. This animal (Gammarus) is much narrower
in the body than the other two, and some of its legs
are bent backwards along its side, so that by means
of them it can run or crawl on its side. Indeed,
when out of the water this creature in quite unable
to walk back uppermost ; whenever by any chance it
does succeed in raising itself into what is for most
animals the normal attitude, it immediately topples
over on its side again. It can be readily distinguished
from the other two forms by having two pairs of
long, delicate feelers or antennse in front of its head ;
the hoppers have only one long pair of antennae
and one short pair.

All these animals, in spite of their small size, are
near allies of the cra;bs and lobsters. A naturalist
would tell you that they belong to the group of the
Crustacea, this name being applied to all animals
of the crab tribe on account of the firm, crackly skin
or shell which surrounds them. The Crustacea are
marked by other features in addition to the possession
of this hard exterior. They are all jointed animals,
their body being built up of a series of segments,
each of which carries a pair of legs or appendages of
some kind, these appendages also being jointed. In
the crab and the lobster a number of segments have
become fused or welded together to form the front part
or body of the animal. In the group of animals to
which the sholties belong the segments are all distinct.

To understand something of the structure and the
general habits of the sholtie, all that we require

Hoppers and Sholties. 375

to do is to collect a few specimens from the beach
and put them in a saucer with a little sea-water.
They will swim about in a very active fashion, the
swimming being performed by means of little fan-
like appendages attached to the under part of the
animal just where the swimmerets are in the lobster.
By the vigorous strokes of these appendages the
animal forces its way through the water.

These appendages are, however, of use in another
way ; the gills of the animal are attached to them.
Even when it is lying almost dry, or in water too
shallow for swimming, these appendages can be seen
to work regularly and rhythmically with a gentle
flapping movement. Sometimes they stop working
for a little and then begin again, but they are never
long at rest. In this way currents of water are
made to bathe the gills continually, and the flapping
of the appendages is really a breathing movement.

The walking legs are attached to the fore part
of the body. Some of them point backwards, as has
already been mentioned, and the animal prefers to
crawl or run on its side. As a rule, too, it propels itself
over the ground by jerking movements of its body,
its tail being alternately curled up and then suddenly
straightened out again. It is in this way that it
wriggles over the stones and escapes into a place
of safety when exposed.

One of the most characteristic points about the
sholtie is its habit of clinging to objects, especially if
they afford a cover from the light. Drop a bit of sea-
weed into the dish where they are swimming, and in
two or three minutes the sholties will all be found
clinging to the under surface of the weed. We

376 Hoppers and Sholties.

might indeed imagine that they had escaped from the
saucer. They cluster like swarming bees round the
smallest blade of seaweed, and it is only by turning over
the weed that we can make sure that they are there.
When exposed to full daylight they seem uncomfort-
able, and keep swimming about trying to find a hiding-
place. It is only when they find something to cling
to and to hide under that they really rest and feel
at ease.

But we have not yet examined the hoppers.
Though externally so like the sholties, they are very
different in constitution and habits. To understand
the difference between the two classes of animals,
the best plan is to put either a shore-hopper or a
sand-hopper into some water along with a sholtie.
The latter is an active little animal in the water,
capable of moving about like a fish. The hopper,
on the other hand, is obviously out of his element ;
he sinks to the bottom of the dish and there
works his way along in lumbering fashion. His
breathing organs can be seen waving backwards
and forwards in rhythmical fashion, but they are
too feeble to be used for swimming. The shore-
hopper can breathe quite well in water, and may live
in it for days. It is said that sand-hoppers do not
stand long-continued immersion, and die of drowning.

On land, however, the hopper is at home, provided
he gets just sufficient moisture to keep his gills damp.
Not only can he crawl about back uppermost — a feat
which the Gammarus would attempt in vain — but
as he crawls he keeps his tail curled up under his
body, and by suddenly straightening this out he
can throw himself into the air with considerable

Hoppers and Sholties.

377

vigour. In this way he often not merely escapes
from an enemy, but even drives terror into the heart
of the pursuer. It takes some little time to realize
that hoppers can be handled with impunity, and are
harmless for all their sudden jerky movements.

Why do these animals live on the upper fringe
of beach, and what do they find there to eat ?
The answer is simple. They live on the cast up
refuse of the sea ; they are the scavengers of the
jetsam. Naturalists who are collecting the skeletons
of small animals often put the carcases which they
wish to have cleaned under some decaying weed on
the beach. After a week or a fortnight the bones
are found to be picked absolutely clean.

In order to tell the sand-hopper from the shore-
hopper we have only to look at his front feet. If
they are all thin and slender, the animal is a sand-
hopper; if one pair of the front feet are clubbed at the
end and armed with a claw, we know that he is a
shore-hopper.

i

SEA-ANEMONES.

'HEN the tide ebbs and leaves
the rocks exposed we may
find here and there a few
soft, rounded objects attached
to the bare rock, often bright
red in colour, and looking like
strawberries or ripe cherries.
They are found especially on the sheltered sides of
high rocks and in the angles formed by slight ridges
and clefts. We do not seem to have any local
name for these objects, although they are so common
and conspicuous ; one wonders why our name-inventing
forefathers did not bestow on them some descriptive
title. Their English name is " sea-anemone," a term
derived from their resemblance to the anemone flower.
It is only when they are covered by the water,
however, that they deserve the name of anemone,
for then they open out like a bud and spread out
circles of leaf -like projections, much as an opening
daisy or dandelion does. They usually remain open
during the whole time that the tide is up ; when the
water goes back again these leaves all curl in towards
the middle of the anemone and are folded up inside,
leaving only a little dimple on the top to indicate
where they have disappeared.

Sea=anemones. 379

Sea-anemones, however, are by no means flowers.
Their jelly-like consistency and their habits would
lead us to classify them as animals, and this they
undoubtedly are. Though they seem to be rooted
to one spot, and to open and close like a plant, their
real habits are those of an animal. As a matter
of fact, they are carnivorous animals ; they first kill
their victims by poisoning them, and afterwards
devour them. If they had the power of moving
rapidly in pursuit of prey, they would be as deadly
to the general population of the beach as are the
most venom-
ous snakes

to the crea- . ' ^ ,
t ur es on
land. As it

is, they ac- i

count for a \
very con-
siderable

number of Sea-aaaao-,u..

the beach inhabitants by simply lying in wait and
grasping the little animals that happen to stray within
their reach. ^

The beautiful circles of leaflets which we see so
regularly arranged are really active grasping tentacles,
armed with whole batteries of little poisonous stings.
With these tentacles they seize hold of any little
creature, such as a " sholtie '' or a young crab, that
happens to move over them. The poor animal is
held fast in spite of all its struggles, tentacle after
tentacle is brought up by the anemone to grasp it,
while hundreds of fine stinging darts discharge into

380 Sea=anemones.

it their poison, and the victim, its struggles gradually
becoming more and more feeble, is ultimately drawn
into the centre of the animal, where lie its mouth and
its stomach. Then the tentacles are all closed in
over the prey, and remain thus closed for a time —
a day or several days, according to the size of the
animal caught. During this time the process of
digestion is going on, and when it is completed
the skeleton and useless parts of the animal are
discharged by the same opening as that by which
it was taken in, and the anemone once more spreads
its tentacles to wait for its next victim.

It is not only living animals that the anemone will
d e vour. Anything of animal nature, dead or alive,
is grist to its mill ; and though it has no eyes, it
can quite well distinguish what is good for food.
A weaving branch of seaweed borne towards it by
currents in the water is quite ignored, while a bit
of flesh is never allowed to come in contact with
the tentacles without an effort being made to secure
it. By some natural power, whether by the sense
of smell or of taste or by some other sense unknown
to us, the creature distinguishes unfailingly what it
needs. It is great fun to feed it with small portions
of limpet or of whelk, and by doing so one can see
exactly how the process of feeding is carried on.

One might imagine that the anemone would easily
fall a prey to larger and stronger animals. It has no
hard skin or shell to protect it, and its beautiful jelly-
like appearance would suggest to any hungry fish or
crab that it is not only easy to demolish but would
form a juicy morsel. Yet it does not seem to be in
any danger from such enemies. I was once amusing

Sea=anemones. 381

myself by throwing little pieces of bait into the sea
among a crowd of sillocks. Along with the bait,
which consisted of limpet and fish, I threw in a
morsel of one of these red anemones. A bold young
&illock immediately snapped it up. Then something
seemed to go wrong, for the poor young fish suddenly
shot the anemone out of its mouth and swam oft'
without so much as looking at the other bait which
I threw all round about it. The piece of anemone
was less palatable than it looked.

Strangely enough an anemone is not much incon-
venienced by being cut into bits. The individual
pieces if put into the sea again close up and grow
into new animals. No doubt the piece which the
sillock swallowed was fully alive, and stung the
mouth and throat of its captor so severely that the
fish was only too glad to be rid of it.

All anemones are not red in colour like those of
which we have been speaking. There is a great
number of different kinds of these creatures round
our shores, but most of them are only to be found
by careful searching. Some are found in rock-pools ;
these are generally coloured more or less like the
seaweeds in the pools. Others are found only in
dark places; under large stones or boulders near
low-water mark they grow in all attitudes — upright,
sideways, and upside down — attached by their base
to the surface of the stone. The greatest variety of
them I ever saw was found among the stones of a
little jetty or pier, which was being taken down to
make room for a larger pier. The under surface
and the sides of the stones on this pier were simply
covered with anemones of all sizes, shapes, and colours.

382

Sea=anemones.

The various kinds of anemone differ not only in
colour but also in size and shape. Some are minute
things, with a thin body or stalk crowned at the top
with long, fine tentacles, which they wave about
actively through the water in search for small prey.
Others again are large, and one kind, known as the
dahlia, which is common in Orkney, attains to
gigantic proportions ; when its tentacles are ex-
panded it is as wide across the top as the mouth
of a large breakfast cup. The dahlia is variously
coloured, sometimes dark crimson, the tentacles being
marked with broad rings of crimson and white,
sometimes green with red markings. The outside
of its body is usually covered with bits of gravel
and broken shells, so that when the animal closes
up there is nothing to be seen but a rounded heap
of gravel. When open it is a magnificent creature,
and its broad, tapering tentacles shine with an iri-
descent light.

Dahlia anemone.

Part IV. — Legend and Lay.

THE OLD GODS.

N the north of Europe there lived long ago
that race of people whom we know as the
Norsemen — tall, fair-haired men, strong
and warlike, and as much at home on
sea as on land. They came to Britain in
great numbers at different times, and
many of them settled there. We read of
them sometimes as Vikings, sometimes as Danes, and
sometimes as Normans. The Saxon settlers of a still
earlier time were of the same kindred. We have
already told the story of their settlement in Orkney,
and of the earldom which they established there.
Everything that we can find out about this wonderful
race of sea-rovers and warriors is of interest to us ;
for while most of the lowland dwellers of Scotland
and England have some Norse blood in their veins,
v\^e who live in these northern islands regard our-
selves as the lineal descendants of those Yikinss.

Before the Norsemen became Christians, they be-
lieved in many gods and goddesses. They had gods
of the sky and of the sea, of spring and of summer,
of thunder and lightning, of frost and of storm.

384 The Old Gods.

Many a strange tale they told of the doings of their
gods, and most of those tales are really pictures of
the processes that take place in nature — of the wars
between wind and sea, between light and darkness,
and between sun and frost.

In the beginning, they believed, there was the
great Spirit, the Creator. Of him they have no tales
to tell. Then the world was made — or rather the
worlds, for the Norsemen thought that besides this
world of men there were a world of the gods, a world
of the giants, and other worlds. Between Asgard, the
home of the gods, and Midgard, the world of men, a
beautiful bridge was built, which we call the rainbow.

Odin was the highest of the gods. He was the god
of wisdom and of victory, and the friend of heroes.
Men spoke of him as tall and strong, with long,
flowing hair and beard, and wearing a wide blue
mantle flecked with white, as the blue sky is flecked
with fleecy clouds. On his shoulders sat two ravens,
Thought and Memory. They roamed over the world
every day, and came back at night to whisper in his
ear all they had seen and heard. At his feet crouched
two wolves, which he fed with his own hand.

Odin had three palaces in Asgard. One of these was
Valhalla, the home of heroes ; and hither came at their
death all the brave men Odin loved so well. He sent
forth beautiful maidens to hover over every field of
battle, and to carry home to Valhalla those who fell
in the fight. In Valhalla the brave lived for ever.
They spent their days in fighting, as they had loved to
do on earth; but every evening the warriors returned
to the hall of feasting, unhurt, and the best of friends.
Such was the Norsemen's idea of a heaven for heroes.

The Old Gods. 385

Odin gave men wisdom as well as courage. Only
through suffering, however, did he become the god
o£ wisdom. It happened on this wise. Far below
the world of the giants was a crystal spring which
watered the roots of the tree of life — a great tree
reaching up to heaven. This well was the fountain
of wisdom, and whoever drank of it became wise. It
was guarded by a giant called Mimir, or Memory.
Mimir was older than the gods, and wiser than they,
for he remembered all things. Odin went down below
the world of the giants one day, and he said to Mimir,
" Give me a drink of the clear water of your well."

" Ah," said Mimir, " this water is never given to
any except at a great price. You must be willing to
give up the most precious thing you possess before
you can drink at Mimir 's fountain."

" Be it so," replied Odin ; " I will give whatever
you ask."

Mimir looked at him, admiring his courage, and at
length replied, " If you would drink, you must leave
with me one of your eyes."

This was a great price to pay, but Odin did not
flinch. He drank of the fountain, and came back to
Asgard with only one eye, but he had won the
wisdom he desired.

Thor was the god of thunder ; he was the champion
of the gods, and defended Asgard against the giants.
His was the largest palace in Asgard; it had five
hundred and forty halls and many great doors, and
was called by a name which means Lightning. Thor
wore a crown of stars upon his head, and rode in a
chariot drawn hy two goats, from whose hoofs and
teeth flashed sparks of fire. To Thor belonged three

(1,384) 25

386 The Old Gods.

very precious things. The first was his mighty
hammer, with which he fought the frost giants. The
second was his belt of strength : when he girded
himself with this his strength was doubled. The
third was his iron gauntlet : with this he grasped his
famous hammer, which he made red-hot when he
fought the giants.

Loki was the spirit of evil and mischief. Having
been banished from Asgard for his wickedness, he lived
many years in giant-land, rejoicing in his evil deeds.
He had three children, each as full of evil as himself.
So much mischief did they work that Odin looked
down from Asgard with a grave countenance. " This
must not be," he said ; " Loki's children will fill the
world with evil." So Odin fared forth to giant-land.
One of the evil brood he sent to the under world of
darkness, and one he threw into the sea. The third,
Fenris the wolf, was so strong that Odin spared him.
"If he were to live with the gods," he said, "his
strength might be turned to good instead of ill." So
he took Fenris the wolf up to Asgard, to see whether
he would learn goodness with his strength.

Who among the gods would care for the wolf -spirit ?
Brave Tyr was ready with the answer. " Father
Odin," he cried, " I delight in strength. Let me have
the charge of this fierce fellow ; I care not if the task
be hard and dull." So Fenris became his charge.
He fed him with sheep and oxen, and took him with
him upon his journeys. But Fenris did not learn the
ways of the gods. His muscles were like iron, and
his teeth stronger than steel, but his heart remained
savage and cruel.

One night Odin called the gods together. "Sons,"

The Old Gods. 387

he said, "I have looked upon Fenris, and seen his
cruel strength. There is no love in his eyes, and
no thought of good in his heart. Day by day he
becomes stronger for evil. We must bind him, or he
will destroy us." They listened, and saw that the
counsel of Odin was good. " Come with me," said
Thor the mighty ; " I will forge a chain that will
hold him fast." All night long the gods watched
Thor toiling at his anvil, dealing great blows upon
the glowing iron, and sending sparks like shooting-
stars through the darkness. When morning came the
massive chain was finished.

" Come, Fenris," called Thor, " you are strong ; let
us see you break this chain which I have made."
Fenris allowed them to bind him with the heavy
links : when they had done so, he stretched his huge
limbs, and the thick iron snapped like a thread of
silk. The gods kept silence as Fenris walked away.

Again Thor led them to his forge ; again he toiled
all night, hammering and shaping great bars of steel.
When morning came, another chain was ready, ten
times stronger than the first. But this chain also
snapped like a spider's thread before the might of
Fenris.

The gods once more sat in council, and Odin's face
was grave. " Great indeed is the power of evil," said
the All-wise, " but the power of good must be greater
still. Sons, let us call to our aid the skill of the
dwarfs. Tyr shall tell them of our need, and they
will help us to bind the enemy." Like an arrow from
the bow, Tyr sped from Asgard to the cave of the
dwarfs, the skilful workers in gold and gems, and gladly
they lent their aid to Father Odin. Three nights they

388 The Old Gods.

toiled in the darkness, and then they brought to Tyr
a delicate chain which might have been spun from
a cobweb. " Here is thy chain, O Tyr," they said.
" Fierce Fenris cannot escape from its bands."

When Tyr came back to Asgard, Fenris was called
once more to test his strength. He looked on the deli-
cate thread, and he trembled ; yet he would not seem to
be afraid. " If one of you will place his hand in my
mouth, so that there may be fair play, I will let you
bind me," he replied. The gods looked in one another's
faces. Who would dare the power of the wolf ?

Brave Tyr stepped forward and put his arm be-
tween the wolf's jaws. The tiny chain was wound
round Fenris. He rose to stretch himself and shake
it off, but it held him fast. With a wild howl he
gnashed his teeth together, and Tyr stood before the
gods without his strong right arm. Then a great
shout arose in Asgard, " Hail to Tyr ! he has given
his right hand to save the world from evil." It was
echoed from the hills, and rang through the caves of
the dwarfs. "The chain of the dwarfs is mighty,"
they said, " but stronger is the brave heart of Tyr."
So wisdom and goodness together were more than a
match for strength and evil.

Baldur was the god of light. He was the fairest
of all that dwelt in Asgard, the best beloved of gods
and men. Wherever he went he carried with him
that kindness and love which is to the heart of man
what light is to the sky. Every one loved him but
Loki ; the spirit of evil hated the goodness that was
in Baldur. Baldur 's palace was the home of all that
was bright and pure. It was built of the blue of the
sky and the clear crystal of running water. Here he

The Old Gods. 389

lived in peace, for no evil thing could enter. But
Baldur became sad and troubled, for he dreamed that
his life was in danger.

Then his mother went abroad over the whole world,
and made everything promise not to hurt Baldur.
Who would harm the beautiful god ? Earth, air, and
water, beasts and birds, and plants and flowers — all
things promised never to hurt him. So his mother
returned to Asgard with joy, but still Baldur was sad.
Then the gods invented a kind of game to cheer his
heart. They made him stand in the midst while they
threw at him weapons and all hurtful things, to show
that nothing could do him harm ; and thus they
amused themselves many days.

In the meantime Loki disguised himself as an old
woman, and went to Baldur's mother. He said he
marvelled that Baldur was not hurt, and then the
mother told him of the promise which all things had
made never to harm her son.

"What! have all things promised this?" asked
Loki.

" Yes," was the reply ; " all things have promised
except one weak little plant, the mistletoe, which
grows far away, and which I did not think it worth
while to ask."

Loki rejoiced in his evil heart when he heard this.
He hurried to the place where the mistletoe grew, and
plucked a twig of it, which by his magic he made into
a spear. Then he came back to Asgard, where the
gods were playing their game of throwing spears at
Baldur.

"Why do you not join in the game?" he asked
one of the gods.

390 The Old Gods.

" Because I am blind," he replied.

" For the honour of Baldur you should throw a
spear at him," Loki went on.

" I have no spear to throw," answered the blind
god.

Then Loki put into his hand the mistletoe spear,
and helped him to aim it. The spear pierced Baldur
through the heart, and he fell dead. Then there were
grief and anger in Asgard ; weeping and mourning
were heard for the first time among the gods.

Odin sent a message to the daughter of Loki, who
ruled over the world of the dead, and asked her to set
Baldur free. She replied that he would be set free
if every living thing would weep for him ; but if a
single creature refused to weep, he could not return.

Then the gods went through all the earth, and
prayed all things living to weep for Baldur. One old
woman alone refused, and so Baldur could not be set
free. The old woman was no other than Loki, who
had taken this form in order to hide himself.

After the death of Baldur came a gloomy time in
Asgard. The gods had fierce wars with the frost-
giants, and were defeated. This time is called "the
twilight of the gods." But even then they looked
forward to a better time which was to come, when
Baldur should return, and all should be light and joy
and peace.

Thus the old Norsemen gave us the beautiful tale
of Baldur, the sun-god. When the days are short
in winter, the time of the mistletoe, Baldur is dead ;
but when spring returns, the war with the frost-giants
is over, and Baldur returns with light and joy to the
northern lands.

A VANISHING ISLAND.

^^aiYNHALLOW— the "holy island" — lies
^^^^ in the middle of the fierce tideway that
^^^ separates the Orcadian mainland from
^pM RoTisay, the Hrolfsey of the Sagas.

Wm^^W " Eynhallow frank, Eynhallow free,
ss^^y Eynhallow stands in the middle of the

sea; .:i^^^H^-

With a roaring roost on every side,
Eynhallow stands in the middle of the tide."

So runs an old island rhyme, and surely never was
there an island so beaten upon and shouted round by
the angry tides. It sets a black front of jagged rocks
to the Atlantic on the west, and the great billows,
rushing on the rocks, send spouts of spray high in the
air, to whirl eastward over the gradual slope of the
isle. All day long the tide sweeps past on either
side, boiling and eddying like a swift and deep river.
When the wind is in the north-west and a strong ebb-
tide is running, then is the time to see the roosts in
all their glory ; for the inrolling ocean swell meets the
outrushing tide in the narrow channels, and the white
waves leap and roar as if some

" wallowing monster spouted
His foam fountains in the sea."

392 A Vanishing Island.

To see this mad turmoil of the roost on a wild
winter day is strange and terrible; but when the
white breakers shout and toss themselves in the sun-
light of a still June morning there is a paradoxical
charm in the sudden outburst of leaping, sparkling
foam amid the blue waters, unruffled of any wind,
that the wildest storm of winter can never claim.

There is an even stronger fascination in the swift,
dark, silent rush of the tides, ceaseless along the
shores, sweeping in with the flood and whirling out
again with the ebb, and with the little green isle
in their midst setting its steep front to the angry
ocean, but sheltering with its two long eastward points
S; quiet sandy bay where no current ever comes.

All along the coast, on either side of Eynhallow
Sound, are low green mounds, marking the places
where once were the homes of the prehistoric Orca-
dians, that Celtic or Pictish race which the conquering
Norsemen destroyed so completely that there is not
in all the place-names of the isles any trace of their
forgotten tongue. Amidst such surroundings, one has
only to look at Eynhallow to know that it must have
gathered legend and tradition in the long years.

In Rousay there still lingers a tale of the breaking
of the spell that held Eynhallow sea-bound; for
" once upon a time " the isle was enchanted, and visible
to human eyes only at rare intervals. It would rise
suddenly out of the sea, and vanish as suddenly before
any mortal could reach it. And if any one should feel
inclined to doubt this tale, can we not point him to
the isle of Heather-Bleather, which is still held by the
spell of the sea-folk, and appears and disappears even
unto this day ?

A Vanishing Island. 393

When Eynhallow was still a vanishing island, it
became known in Rousay that if any man, seeing the
isle, should hold steel in his hand and, taking boat, go
out through the tides, never looking at aught but the
island, nor ever letting go the steel till he leaped on
to its virgin shore, that man should break the spell
and win the isle from the sea-folk for his own
people. After many failures — and who can tell how
many a brave heart went down the tide to the sea-
trows in that perilous venture ? — there came at last
the hour and the man ; the vanishing isle was won
from the waters, and left standing "in the middle
of the tide."

If there be yet any man brave enough to try
the adventure of the vanishing island, Heather-Bleather
awaits his coming. I have never met any person
who would confess to having seen that mysterious
isle, but many of the dwellers by the roosts have
spoken to those who saw it rise green out of the
waters. This island is the home of the Fin-men or
Sea-men (not to be too rashly identified with the sea-
trows), a race of beings who play a prominent part in
Orcadian folk-lore.

In Rousay they tell of a maiden mysteriously rapt
from the hillside over the sea, and sought in vain by
her kindred. Long years after, " when grief was calm
and hope was dead," the lost girl's father and brothers
were at sea in their fishing-boat, when there rolled
down upon them one of those dense banks of sea-fog
so common in the North in summer. The fishermen
knew not where they were, but sailed on until their
boat grounded on an island which at first they took to
be Eynhallow. They soon found, however, that they

394 A Vanishing Island.

were on an island tliey had never seen before, and on
going up to a " white house " they found in the " guid-
wife " who admitted them their long lost daughter
and sister. She welcomed them, and in a little time
her husband and his brother came in from the sea in
"wisps" (the local name for great rolls of heather
" Simmons," or ropes, used in thatching houses). Others
say that they came in the guise of seals, and cast off
their skins. Be that as it may, they treated their
human connections well and hospitably. When the
time came for the men to leave for home, the woman
refused to accompany them, but she gave her father a
knife, and told him that so long as he kept it he
could come to the isle of the waters whenever he
pleased. Just as the boat put to sea the knife slipped
from the old man's hand into the water ; in a moment
the fog swallowed the island, and no man has set foot
on it since.

In summer and autumn evenings, when the sea-fog
comes rolling up in great banks from the Atlantic,
and the westering sun fills the hollows between with
fantastic lights and shadows — when the islands seem
all to shift and change, appearing and disappearing
among the huge masses of white vapour, it requires
no very strong imagination to see once more the green
isle of Heather-Bleather riding the waters, real and
solid as its sister of Eynhallow, won so long since
from the sea-folk.

Of its old enchantment the isles-folk say that Eyn-
hallow still retains some small part. No steel or iron
stake, such as are used for tethering cattle, will re-
main in its soil after sunset. Of their own motion
they leap from the ground at the moment when

A Vanishing Island. 395

the sea swallows the sun. Then, again, no rat or

mouse can live upon the island, and it is not long since

it was usual to bring boatloads of earth from Eyn-

h allow to lay under the foundations of new houses, and

under the corn-stacks in the farmyard. It was firmly

believed that through the charmed earth no mouse or

rat could pass.

Duncan J. Robertson {Th& Scots Magazine).
By Fermission.

[Since the preceding article first appeared, a very
interesting discovery has been made on Eynhallow,
which may help to explain both the name of the
island — the "Holy Isle" — and the existence of so many
supernatural legends regarding it. References are
made in the Sagas to a monastery in Orkney in Norse
times, and it is recorded that an abbot from this
monastery was appointed to that of Melrose in 1175.
Many probable sites were suggested as having been
occupied by this monastery, but no remains could
be found, and some doubt was felt as to whether
it ever really existed in Orkney at all. In the year
1900, however, Professor Dietrichson, a Norwegian,
examined the ruins on Eynhallow, and was able to
show that they are the long-sought remains of the
lost monastery — small in size, but complete in all
the details of a Cistercian monastery of the period
referred to in the Sagas.]

\

HELEN WATERS: A LEGEND OF
SULE SKERRY.

^

HE mountains of Hoy, the highest
of the Orkney Islands, rise
abruptly out of the ocean to an
elevation of fifteen hundred feet,
and terminate on one side in a
cliff, sheer and stupendous as if
the mountain had been cut down
through the middle and the severed portion of it buried
in the sea. Immediately on the landward side of this
precipice lies a soft green valley, embosomed among
huge black cliffs, where the sound of the human voice
or the report of a gun is reverberated among the rocks
till it gradually dies away into soft and softer echoes.
The hills are intersected by deep and dreary glens,
where the hum of the world is never heard, and the
only voices of life are the bleat of the lamb and the
shriek of the eagle. The breeze wafts not on its
wings the whisper of the woodland, for there are
no trees on the island ; the roar of the torrent stream
and the sea's eternal moan for ever sadden those
solitudes of the world.

The ascent of the mountain is in some parts almost
perpendicular, and in all exceedingly steep; but the
admirer of Nature in her grandest and most striking

Helen Waters: A Legend of Sule Skerry. 397

aspects will be amply compensated for his toil, upon
reaching their summits, by the magnificent prospect
which they afibrd. Towards the north and east, the
vast expanse of the ocean, and the islands, with their
dark heath-clad hills, their green vales, and gigantic
cliffs, expand below as far as the eye can reach. The
view towards the south is bounded by the lofty
mountains of Scaraben and Morven, and by the wild
hills of Strathnaver and Cape Wrath, stretching
towards the west. In the direction of the latter,
and far away in mid-ocean, may be seen, during clear
weather, a barren rock called Sule Skerry, which
superstition in former days had peopled with mer-
maids and monsters of the deep. This solitary spot
had long been known to the Orcadians as the haunt
of sea-fowl and seals, and was the scene of frequent
shooting excursions, though such perilous adventures
have been long since abandoned. It is associated
in my mind with a wild tale, which I have heard
in my youth, though I am uncertain whether or not
the circumstances which it narrates are yet in the
memory of living men.

On the opposite side of the mountainous island
of which I speak, and divided from it by a frith of
several miles in breadth, lie the flat serpentine shores
of the principal island or Mainland, where, upon a
gentle slope, at a short distance from the sea-beach,
may still be traced the site of a cottage, once the
dwelling of a humble couple of the name of Waters,
belonging to the class of small proprietors.

Their only child Helen, at the time to which my
narration refers, was just budding into womanhood;
and thouo^h uninitiated into what would now be con-

898 Helen Waters: A Legend of Sule Skerry.

sidered the indispensable requisites of female education,
was yet not altogether unaccomplished for the simple
times in which she lived, and, though a child of nature,
had a grace beyond the reach of art.

Henry Graham, the accepted lover of Helen Waters,
was the son of a small proprietor in the neighbour-
hood ; and being of the same humble rank with her-
self, and, though not rich, removed from poverty, their
views were undisturbed by the dotage of avarice or
the fears of want, and the smiles of approving friends
seemed to await their approaching union.

In the Orkneys it was customary for the bride-
groom to invite the wedding guests in person ; for
which purpose, a few days previous to the marriage,
young Graham, accompanied by a friend, took a boat
and proceeded to the island of Hoy in order to request
the attendance of a family residing there ; which done,
on the following day they joined a party of young
men upon a shooting excursion to Kackwick, a village
romantically situated on the opposite side of the
island. They left the house of their friends on a
bright, calm autumnal morning, and began to traverse
the wild and savage glens which intersect the hills,
where their progress might be guessed at by the
reports of their guns, which gradually became fainter
and fainter among the mountains, and at last died
away altogether in the distance.

That night and the following day passed, and they
did not return to the house of their friends ; but the
weather being extremely fine, it was supposed they
had extended their excursion to the opposite coast
of Caithness, or to some of the neighbouring islands,
so that their absence created no alarm whatever.

Helen Waters: A Legend of Sule Skerry. 399

The same conjectures also quieted the anxieties of
the bride, until the morning previous to that of the
marriage, when her alarm could no longer be sup-
pressed. A boat was manned in all haste, and dis-
patched to Hoy in quest of them, but did not return
that day nor the succeeding night.

The morning of the wedding day dawned at last
bright and beautiful, but still no intelligence arrived
of the bridegroom and his party ; and the hope which
lingered to the last, that they would still make their
appearance in time, had prevented the invitations
from being postponed, so that the marriage party began
to assemble about midday.

While the friends were all in amazement, and the
bride in a most pitiable state, a boat was seen crossing
from Hoy, and hope once more began to revive ; but,
when her passengers landed, they turned out to be
the members of the family invited from that island,
whose surprise at finding how matters stood was
equal to that of the other friends.

Meantime all parties united in their endeavours to
cheer the poor bride, for which purpose it was agreed
that the company should remain, and that the fes-
tivities should go on — an arrangement to which the
guests the more willingly consented, from a lingering
hope that the absentees would still make their appear-
ance, and partly with a view to divert in some
measure the painful suspense of the bride ; while she,
on the other hand, from feelings of hospitality,
exerted herself, though with a heavy heart, to make
her guests as comfortable as possible, and by the
very endeavour to put on an appearance of tranquil-
lity acquired so much of the reality as to prevent her

400 Helen Waters: A Legend of Sule Skerry.

from sinking altogether under the weight of her
fears.

Meantime the day advanced, the festivities went
on, and the glass began to circulate freely. The
absence of the principal actor of the scene was so far
forgotten that at length the music struck up, and
dancing commenced with all the animation which
that exercise inspires.

Things were going on in this way when, towards
night, and during one of the pauses of the dance,
a loud rap was heard at the door, and a gleam of
hope was seen to lighten every face, when there
entered, not the bridegroom and his party, but a
wandering lunatic named Annie Fae, well known and
not a little feared in all that countryside. Her
garments were little else than a collection of fantastic
and parti-coloured rags, bound close around her waist
with a girdle of straw, and her head had no other
covering than the dark tangled locks that hung,
snake-like, over her wild and weather-beaten face,
from which peered forth her small, deep, sunk eyes,
gleaming with the light of insanity.

Before the surprise and dismay excited by her
sudden and unwelcome appearance had subsided, she
addressed the company in the following wild and
incoherent manner, —

" Hech, sirs, but here's a merry meeting indeed.
Plenty o' gude meat and drink here, and nae expense
spared ! Aweel, it's no a' lost neither ; this blithe bridal
will mak' a braw burial, and the same feast will do for
baith. But I'll no detain you langer, but jog on upon
my journey ; only I wad juist hint that, for decency
sake, ye suld stop that fine fiddling and dancing."

Helen Waters : A Legend of Sule Skerry. 401

Having thus spoken, she made a low curtsy,
and hurried out of the house, leaving the company
in that state of painful excitement which, in such
circumstances, even the ravings of a poor deranged
wanderer could not fail to produce.

In this state we too may leave them for the present,
and proceed with the party who had set off on the
preceding day in search of the bridegroom and his
friends. The latter were traced to Rack wick ; but
there no intelligence could be gained, except that
some days previous a boat, having on board several
sportsmen, had been seen putting off from the shore,
and sailing away in the direction of Sule Skerry.

The weather continuing fine, the searching party
hired a large boat, and proceeded to that remote and
solitary rock, upon which, as they neared it, they could
discover nothing, except swarms of seals, which im-
mediately began to flounder towards the water's edge.
A large flock of sea-fowl arose from the centre of the
rock with a deafening scream ; and upon approaching
the spot, they beheld, with dumb amazement and
horror, the dead bodies of the party of whom they
had come in search, but so mangled and disfigured
by the sea-fowl that they could barely be recognized.

It appeared that these unfortunates upon landing
had forgotten their guns in the boat, which had slipped
from her fastenings, and left them upon the rock,
where they had at last perished of cold and hunger.

Fancy can but feebly conceive, and still less can
words describe, the feelings with which the lost men
must have beheld their bark drifting away over the
face of the waters, and found themselves abandoned
in the vast solitude of the ocean.

(1,384) 26

402 Helen Waters: A Legend of Sule Skerry.

With what agony must they have gazed upon the
distant sails, gliding over the deep, but keeping far
aloof from the rock of desolation. How must their
horrors have been aggravated by the far-off view of
their native hills, lifting their lonely peaks above the
wave, and awakening the dreadful consciousness that
they were still within the grasp of humanity, and yet
no arm was stretched forth to save them ; while the
sun was riding high in the heavens, and the sea
basking in his beams below, and Nature looking with
reckless smiles upon their dying agonies !

As soon as the stupor of horror and amazement
had subsided, the party placed the dead bodies in
their boat, and, crowding all sail, stood for the
Orkneys. They landed at night upon the beach,
immediately below the house where the wedding
guests were assembled ; and there, while debating in
what manner to proceed, they were overheard by the
insane wanderer, the result of whose visit has already
been recorded.

She had scarcely left the house, when a low sound
of voices was heard approaching. An exclamation of
joy broke from the bride. She rushed out of the
house with outstretched arms to embrace her lover,
and the next moment, with a fearful shriek, fell upon
his corpse ! With that shriek reason and memory
passed away for ever. She was carried back
delirious, and died towards morning. The bridal
was changed into a burial, and Helen Waters and
her lover slept in the same grave 1

John Malcolm. (Adapted.)
(Native of Firth, Orkney; 1795-1845.)

A LEGEND OF BORAY ISLAND.*

In the far-off Northern Islands,
Where the wild waves ever flow,

I have heard a wondrous legend
Of the days of long ago.

There, amid the circling waters,

Boray Isle lies all alone,
Silent ever, save at nightfall

On the eve of good St. John, f

Those who in the faith of Odin

'Neath the waves have sunk for aye,

Are as sea-beasts doomed to wander
Till the dawn of Judgment Day.

Once a year on Boray Island

They revisit scenes of earth.
And, their ancient forms resuming,

Hold their wild unhallowed mirth.

On the shore their sealskins leaving,

They in revels pass the time.
Till the midnight hour resoundeth

From St. Magnus' distant chime.

Boray Island, or Holm of Boray, off Millburn Bay in Gairsay,
t Midsummer Eve.

404: A Legend of Boray Island.

At the solemn knell the dancers
In wild haste their guise regain,

And as seals once more appearing
Plunge below the waves again.

Long ago a Northern fisher
Iq a storm was left alone,

And to Boray Isle was driven
On the eve of good St. John.

There he saw the ghostly revels —
Music wild fell on his ear ;

And he snatched a cast-off sealskin,
And he hid in mortal fear.

All the evening long he watched them,
Till he heard St. Magnus' chime —

Twelve deep tones proclaimed the hour
When was o'er the fated time.

At the solemn knell the dancers
In wild haste their guise regain —

All save one ; a fair sea-maiden,
Seeking for her robe in vain.

All the others plunged and left her,
And no more could Eric bide.

But his friendly shelter leaving.
Hurried to the maiden's side.

Flung his fisher mantle round her ;

With the Cross he signed her o'er ;
And with loving words addressed her,

Bidding her to fear no more.

A Legend of Boray Island. 405

** Fairest one ! no longer fated
As a wild sea-beast to roam,
Come and be my bride, my treasure,
Mistress of mv hearth and home.

** Thou shalt be a christened woman
By the help of good St. John,
And at blessed Magnus' altar

Holy Church shall make us one."

So he spake, and so he won her,
And he took her to his home ;

* Margaret ' was the name they gave her,
' Pearl ' cast up from Ocean's foam.

Three bright years they dwelt together,
Love and joy around her grew ;

Every day he blessed the tempest
That his bark on Boray threw.

But when spring three times had circled,
Margaret's cheek was thin and white ;

Day by day her strength departed,
And she faded in his sight.

Then she spoke, and thus she bade him :
" Death's cold touch is on my heart,
But in peace from this dear homestead
Soul and body cannot part

** Till I know my fate for certain —
If the holy water shed
On my christened brow will save me
From the doom of Odin's dead.

406 A Legend of Boray Island.

*' Row me in your skiff, my husband,
On the eve of good St. John ;
Take me back to Boray Island,
Lay me on the sands adown.

** Clasping fast the Cross of Jesus,
I must meet the dead alone ;
If they still have power o'er me,
Ere day breaks I shall be gone.

" All alone you needs must leave me ;
Pass in fast and prayer the time ;
And return when o'er the waters
Peals St. Mai^nus' midniojht chime.

" And if Cross and Chrism guard me
From the sway of spirits foul,
Then, my husband, know for certain
Christ will save my ransomed soul."

All her bidding he accomplished,
Though his heart was sad and sore :

On the fated eve he took her,
Laid her down on Boray shore;

Went where he no more could see her,

To the islet's farthest bound.
Soon he heard the ghostly dancers

"With wild cries his wife surround.

All the evening long they tried her,

Tempting her to turn again,
With weird strains of love or threatening.

To her life below the main.

A Legend of Boray Island. 407

Sadly Eric watched and waited,
Passed in fast and prayer the time,

Till at last, o'er rippling water.

Pealed St. Magnus' midnight chime.

Then he rose, and hastened to her ;

Found her on the lonely sands,
Lying with the Cross of Jesus

Clasped in her folded hands.

To the Islands of the Blessed

Margaret's ransomed soul had fled,

And a smile of victory lingered
On her lips, though cold and dead.

Alice L. Dundas
(The Honourable Mrs. John Dundas).

1

408 Songs of the Gods.

SONGS OF THE GODS.
The Challenge of Thor.

I AM the God Thor,
I am the War God,
I am the Thunderer !
Here in ray Northland,
My fastness and fortress,
Reign I for ever !

Here amid icebergs
Rule I the nations.
This is my hammer,
Miolner the mighty ;
Giants and sorcerers
Cannot withstand it !

These are the gauntlets
Wherewith I wield it
And hurl it afar oflF.
This is my girdle ;
Whenever I brace it
Strength is redoubled !

The light thou behold est
Stream through the heavens
In flashes of crimson
Is but my red beard
Blown by the night-wind,
Affrighting the nations 1

Jove is my brother ;

Mine eyes are the lightning ;

Songs of the Gods. 409

The wheels of my chariot
Boll in the thunder,
The blows of my hammer
Ring in the earthquake !

Force rules the world still,
Has ruled it, shall rule it ;
Meekness is weakness,
Strength is triumphant,
Over the whole earth
Still is it Thor's Day !

Thou art a God too.

O Galilean 1

And thus single-handed

Unto the combat,

Gauntlet or Gospel,

Here I defy Thee !

Longfellow.

Tegner's Drapa.*

I HEARD a voice that cried,
* Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead ! "
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.

I saw the pallid corpse

Of the dead sun

Borne through the Northern sky.

Blasts from Niffelheim

Lifted the sheeted mists

Around him as he passed.

The Song of Tegner, a Swedish poet.

4:10 Songs of the Gods.

And the voice for ever cried,
" Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead ! "
And died away
Through the dreary night,
In accents of despair.

Balder the Beautiful,
God of the summer sun,
Fairest of all the Gods !
Light from his forehead beamed,
Runes were ujoon his tongue.
As on the warrior's sword.

All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm ;
Even the plants and stones —
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe !

Hceder, the blind old God,
Whose feet are shod with silence,
Pierced through that gentle breast
With his sharp spear, by fraud
Made of the mistletoe.
The accursed mistletoe !

They laid him in his ship.
With horse and harness.
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed
A ring upon his finger,
And whispered in his ear.

Songs of the Gods. 411

They launched the burning ship !

It floated far away

Over the misty sea,

Till like the sun it seemed,

Sinking beneath the waves.

Balder returned no more !

So perish the old Gods !

But out of the sea of Time

Kises a new land of song,

Fairer than the old.

Over its meadows green

"Walk the young bards and sing.

Build it again,

O ye bards,

Fairer than before !

Ye fathers of the new race,

Feed upon morning dew.

Sing the new Song of Love I

The law of force is dead !
The law of love prevails !
Thor, the Thunderer,
Shall rule the earth no more,
No more, with threats,
Challenge the meek Christ.

Sing no more,

O ye bards of the North,

Of Yikings and of Jarls !

Of the days of Eld

Preserve the freedom only,

Not the deeds of blood.

Longfellow.

412 The Song of Harold Harfager.

THE SONG OF HAROLD HARFAQER.

The sun is rising dimly red,
The wind is wailing low and dread ;
From his cliff the eagle sallies.
Leaves the wolf his darksome valleys ;
In the mist the ravens hover,
Peep the wild-dogs from the cover —
Screaming, croaking, baying, yelling^
Each in his wild accents telling,
*' Soon we feast on dead and dying,
Fair-haired Harold's flag is flying."

Many a crest in air is streaming,
Many a helmet darkly gleaming.
Many an arm the axe uproars.
Doomed to hew the wood of spears.
All along the crowded ranks,
Horses neigh and armour clanks.
Chiefs are shouting, clarions ringing,
Louder still the bard is singing,
*' Gather, footmen — gather, horsemen,
To the field, ye valiant Norsemen !

" Halt ye not for food or slumber,
View not vantage, count not number ;
Jolly reapers, forward still ;
Grow the crop on vale or hill,
Thick or scattered, stiff or lithe,
It shall down before the scythe.
Forward with your sickles bright,
Reap the harvest of the fight —
Onward, footmen — onw^ard, horsemen,
To the charge, ye gallant Norsem-en !

The Song of Harold Harfager.

413

" Fatal choosers of the slaughter,
O'er you hovers Odin's daughter ;
Hear the choice she spreads before ye —
Victory, and wealth, and glory ;
Or old Valhalla's roaring Hail,
Her ever-circling mead and ale.
Where for eternity unite
The joys of wassail and of fight.
Headlong forward, foot and horsemen.
Charge and fight, and die like Norsemen ! "

Sir Walter Scott.

A uoodland path, Bin^carth.

iU King Hacon's Last Battle.

KING HACON'S LAST BATTLE.

All was over ; day was ending

As the foemen turned and fled.

Gloomy red
Glowed the angry sun descending ;

While round Hacon's dying bed
Tears and songs of triumph blending

Told how fast the conqueror bled.

*' Raise me," said the king. We raised him-

ISTot to ease his desperate pain ;

That were vain !
" Strong our foe was — but we faced him :

Show me that red field again."
Then with reverent hands we placed him

High above the battle plain.

Sudden on our startled hearing

Came the low-breathed, stern command,-

" Lo ! ye stand ?

Linger not — the night is nearing ;
'; Bear me downwards to the strand,

W^here my ships are idly steering
Off and on, in sight of land."

Every whispered word obeying.

Swift we bore him down the steep,

O'er the deep.
Up the tall ship's side, low swaying

To the storm-wind's powerful sweep,
And his dead companions laying

Bound him — we had time to weep.

But the king said, " Peace ! bring hither
Spoils and weapons, battle-strown —
Make no moan :

King Hacon's Last Battle. 415

Leave me and my dead together ;

Light my torch, and then — begone."
But we murmured, each to other,
" Can we leave him thus alone 1 "

Angrily the king replieth ;

Flashed the awful eye again

With disdain :
" Call him not alone who lieth

Low among such noble slain ;
Call him not cdone who dieth

Side by side with gallant men.

Slowly, sadly we departed ;

Reached again that desolate shore,

Never more
Trod by him, the brave, true-hearted,

Dying in that dark ship's core !
Sadder keel from land ne'er parted,

ISTobler freight none ever bore !

There we lingered, seaward gazing,

Watching o'er that living tomb.

Through the gloom —
Gloom which awful light is chasing —

Blood-red flames the surge illume !
Lo ! King Hacon's ship is blazing ;

'Tis the hero's self-sought doom.

Eight before the wild wind driving,

Madly plunging — stung by fire —

No help nigh her —
Lo ! the ship has ceased her striving !

Mount the red flames higher, higher,
Till, on ocean's verge arriving.

Sudden sinks the Viking's pyre —

Hacon's gone !

Lord Dufferin.

416 The Death of Haco.

THE DEATH OF HACO.

The summer is gone, Haco, Haco ;

The yellow year is fled ;
And the winter is come, Haco,

That numbers thee with the dead !

When the year was young, Haco, Haco,
And the skies were blue and bright,

Thou didst sweep the seas, Haco,
Like a bird with wings of might.

With thine oaken galley, proudly,
And thy gilded dragon-prow,

O'er the bounding billows, Haco,
Like a sea-god thou didst go.

With thy barons gaily, gaily.
All in proof of burnished mail,

In the voes of Orkney, Haco,

Thou didst spread thy pridef ul sail ;

And the sturdy men of Caithness,
And the land of the Mackay,

And the men of Stony Parf, Haco,
Knew that Norway's king was nigh.

And the men of utmost Lewis, Haco,
And Skye, with winding kyles,

And Macdougall's country, Haco,
Knew the monarch of the isles.

And the granite peaks of Arran,
And the rocks that fence the Clyde,

Saw thy daring Norsemen, Haco,
Kamping o'er the Scottish tide.

The Death of Haco. 417

But scaith befell thee, Haco, Haco !

Thou wert faithful, thou wert brave ;
But not truth might shield thee, Haco,

From a false and shuffling knave.

The crafty King of Scots, Haco,

Who might not bar thy way.
Beguiled thee, honest Haco, y

With lies that bred delay.

And hasty winter, Haco, Haco,

Came and tripped the summer's heels.

And rent the sails of Haco

And swamped his conquering keels.

Woe is me for Haco, Haco !

On Lorn and Mull and Skye
The hundred ships of Haco

In a thousand fragments lie !

And thine oaken galley, Haco,

That sailed with kingly pride.
Came shorn and shattered, Haco,

Through the foaming Pentland tide.

And thy heart sunk, Haco, Haco,
And thou felt that thou must die,

When the bay of Kirkwall, Haco,
Thou beheld with drooping eye.

And they led thee, Haco, Haco,

To the bishop's lordly hall.
Where thy woe-struck barons, Haco,

Stood to see the mighty fall.

And the purple churchmen, Haco,
Stood to hold thy royal head,

(1,884) 27

418 The Death of Haco.

And good words of hope to Haco
From the Holy Book they read.

Then out spake the dying Haco,
" Dear are God's dear words to me j

But read the book to Haco

Of the kings that ruled the sea."

Then they read to dying Haco
From the ancient saga hoar,

Of Holden and of Harold,

When his fathers worshipped Thor.

And they shrove the dying Haco,
And they prayed his bed beside ;

And with holy unction Haco

Drooped his kingly head and died.

And in parade of death, Haco,
They stretched thee on thy bed,

With a purple vest for Haco,
And a garland on his head.

And around thee, Haco, Haco,
Were tapers burning bright,

And masses were sung for Haco
By day and eke by night.

And they bore thee, Haco, Haco,
To holy Magnus' shrine,

And beside his sainted bones, Haco,
They chastely coffined thine.

And above thee, Haco, Haco,
To deck thy dreamless bed.

All crisp with gold for Haco,
A purple pall they spread.

The Death of Haco. 419

And around thee, Haco, Haco,

Where the iron sleep thou slept,
Through the long, dark winter, Haco,

A solemn watch they kept.

And at early burst of springtime,
When the birds sang out with glee,

They took the body of Haco
In a ship across the sea —

Across the sea to Norway,

Where thy sires make moan for thee,
That the last of his race was Haco,

Who ruled the Western Sea.

And they laid thee, Haco, Haco,

With thy sires on the Norway shore.

And far from the isles of the sea, Haco,
That know thy name no more.

John Stuart Blagkie.

[From ^^ Lays of the Highlands and Islands.")

[By permission of the Walter Scott Publishing Company. )

A modem war-Jleet in Kirkwall Bay.

420 The Old Man ol Hoy.

THE OLD MAN OF HOY.

The Old Man of Hoy

Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free ;
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,

And the Old Man of Hoy

Hath this great joy,
To hear the deep roar of the wide blue ocean,
And to stand unmoved 'mid the sleepless motion,

And to feel o'er his head

The white foam spread
From the wild wave proudly swelling ;

And to care no whit

For the storm's rude fit,
Where he stands on his old rock-dwelling —

This rare Old Man of Hoy.

The Old Man of Hoy

Looks out on the sea,
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free ;
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,

And the Old Man of Hoy

Hath this great joy,
To look on the flight of the wild seamew,
With their hoar nests hung o'er the waters blue ;

To see them swing

On plunging wing,
And to hear their shrill notes swelling,

And with them to reply

To the storm's war-cry.
As he stands on his old rock-dwelling —

This rare Old Man of Hoy

The Old Man of Hoy. 421

The Old Man of Hoy

Looks out on the sea.
Where the tide runs strong and the wave rides free ;
He looks on the broad Atlantic sea,

And the Old Man of Hoy

Hath this great joy.
To think on the pride of the sea-kings old^ —
Harolds and Ronalds and Sigurds bold —

Whose might was felt

By the cowering Celt
When he heard their war-cry yeUing.

But the sea-kings are gone,

And he stands alone,
Firm on his old rock-dwelling —

This stout Old Man of Hoy.

But listen to me,
Old Man of the Sea,
List to the Skulda that speaketh by me :
The Nornies are weaving a web for thee,
Thou Old Man of Hoy,
To ruin thy joy,
And to make thee shrink from the lash of the ocean,
And teach thee to quake with a strange commotion.
When over thy head
And under thy bed
The rampant wave is swelling ;
And thou shalt die
'Neath a pitiless sky,
And reel from thy old rock-dwelling —
Thou stout Old Man of Hoy !

John Stuakt Blackie.

{From "Lays of the Highlands and Islands.^')

{Bp permission of the Walter Scott Publishing Company.)

422 Orkney.

ORKNEY.

The parting beam of autumn smiles

A farewell o'er these lonely isles ;

Capped with its fire, the mountains soar

Like lighted beacons on the shore.

While far beneath, in depth profound,

The tides roll through each darksome sound —

Those passes where the troubled sea

Hurries with roar and revelry ;

Where waves dash on in headlong haste.

By a wide world of waters prest.

Here ruined hall and nodding tower

Hint darkly at departed power,

Their domeless walls, time-worn and gray,

Give dimly back the evening ray,

Like gleams from days long past away.

Saint Magnus ! pile of ages fled,
Thou temple of the quick and dead !
While they who raised thy form sublime
Have faded from the things of time ;
While hands that reared, and heads that planned,
Have passed into the silent land,
Still hath thy mighty fabric stood
'Mid sweeping blast and sheeted flood.
Above thy tower and turrets tall

The thunder-cloud hath spread its pall,

And muttered o'er thine airy height
Its bursting accents to the night :
Though oft the wild and wintry storm
Hath reeled around thy towering form,
The mighty pile still proudly rears
Its head above the wreck of years.

Orkney. 423

As through thy pillared aisles I tread,
Where rest the gone forgotten dead,
Each step a mournful echo calls
To wander through the dreary walls ;
The sullen sounds they backward throw,
Which falter into whispers low.
Each tombstone's frail and crumbling frame
Preserves not e'en an airy name ;
The lines by Friendship's fingers traced,
Now touched by Time's, are half effaced ;
The few faint letters lingering still
Are all the dead man's chronicle.

How often have the guests who ranged
Thy sacred labyrinths been changed !
Of crowds, who sang their anthems here.
How still each ton2:ue — how deaf each ear!

But thou like them must pass away
Beneath the hand of pale decay ;
Even now thy towering turrets feel
The weight of ages o'er them steal ;
Thy summit in its airy waste
Rocks to the rude and rushing blast ;
When years that wander o'er thee call
Thy time-struck fabric to its fall.
Thy mouldering columns lone and gray
Shall shelter then the bird of prey ;
Each worshipless recess shall be
Place for their frightful revelry ;
The raven's hoarse and funeral note
Shall o'er sepulchral ruins float

Still doth the ruined palace stand,
A crumbling relic in the land —

424 Orkney.

Tenantless fabric, huge and high,
And proud in ruined majesty ;
The verdant ivy robes thy wall,
Weeds are the dwellers in thy hall,
And in the wind the tufted grass
Waves o'er thy dim and mouldering mass,
And freshly each returning spring
Blooms o'er thy mortal withering.
On darkening piles, and waning wrecks,

A gay green garment oft is spread ;
For ruin, as in mockery, decks

The faded victims she hath made.

With time and tempest thou art bent,
A drear, neglected monument.
Lorn as some frail and aged one
Who lives when all his friends are gone ! —
Where is thy voice of music ? — where
The strains that hushed the midnight air,
When Beauty woke her witching song,
And spellbound held the festive throng 1 —
A narrow and a nameless ^rave
Hath closed upon the fair and brave,
And all around is deadly still.
Save when, from some high pinnacle,
The raven's croak, or owlet's wail,

Blends with the sighing of the gale.

The hoary rocks, of giant size.
That o'er the land in circles rise.
Of which tradition may not tell,
Fit circles for the wizard's spell,
Seen far amidst the scowling storm,
Seem each a tall and phantom form,

Orkney. 425

As hurrying vapours o'er them flee,
Frowning in grim society,
While like a dread voice from the past
Around them mourns the autumnal blast.

Yet not the works of man alone,
Though hallowed by long ages gone,
Charm us away in musing mood ;
Bear witness each grim solitude,
'Mid Hoy's high shadowy mountain walls
Where mournfully the twilight falls :
There bosomed in a deep recess
Sleeps a dim vale of loneliness,
The circling hills, all bleak and wild,
Are o'er its slumbers darkly piled,
Save on one side, where far below .
The everlasting waters flow,
And round the precipices vast
Dance to the music of the blast

There rocks of ages sternly throw
Their shadows o'er a world below,
And fierce and fast each dark-brown flood
Careering comes in maddening mood :
O'er the sheer cliffs the waters flash.
And down in whitest columns dash.
Till, far away, we scarce can hear
Their dying falls and murmurs drear,
As, bursting o'er the dizzy verge.
They melt into the boiling surge.

Here, when, perchance, the voice of men
Is heard within the fairy glen,
Deep muttering echoes start around,
And rocks of gloom fling back the sound,

426 Orkney.

While from their fragments, rent and riven,
A thousand airy dwellers driven,
Send forth a wild and dreary scream,
Like such as breaks a fearful dream
When Conscience to the sleeper's gaze
Holds up the view of other days

When, by Night's mantle hooded o'er,
The heaving hills are seen no more.
Oft blended with the torrent's dash
Are heard the thunder's startling crash,
And burst of billows on the shore.
Like cannon's deep and distant roar,
By echoes answered loud and fast.
That gallop on the midnight blast,
As if the Spirit of the vale
Heard in his cave the stormy wail.
And to the tempest rolling by
Shrieked loud his frightful mockery

Where cairns of slumbering chiefs are piled,
And frown above the waters wild.
Rear their hoar heads, forlorn and dim,
Upon the ocean's lonely brim.
There the fierce storm and maddening surge
Howl loud and long the warrior's dirge.
And blended there together rave
Through many a deep and dreary cave,
And waken from their sullen lair
Sea-monsters, darkly slumbering there.

Seen from those death-towers of the flood,
The ocean's mighty solitude
Widens through boundless space around,
Vast, melancholy, lone, profound ;

Orkney. ^27

So vast that thought with weary wing
Droops o'er its distant wandering,
And, left behind, again returns
To muse upon the mouldering urns

As the rude brush of evening's wind
Leaves not a lingering trace behind
Of landscapes living in the stream,
Like the dim scenery of a dream
Called up by Fancy's wizard wand,
When Sense is sealed by Slumber's hand ;
So Time's drear blast hath swept along
Alike from record and from song
Their very names, who now lie hid
Beneath each dusky pyramid ;
And all that hint of them are graves
Where the green flag of ruin waves.
Or crumbling remnant of the past
That ivy shelters from the blast,
And clings to still when others flee,
Like true love in adversity.

On Noltland's solitary pile

The last blush of the dying day
Plays like a melancholy smile

And hectic glow on pale decay

The moss of years is on the wall,

And fitfully the night-winds start
Through Bothwell's roofless ruined hall,

Like sobs of sorrow from the heart ;
Upon each floor of cold, damp sod
The clustering weeds like hearse-plumes nod ;
Through chambers desolate and green

Hoots the gray owl at evening's close,

428 Orkney.

Meant for far other guests, I ween —

Where wave-worn Beauty might repose,
And find that bliss in Love's caress
Which hallows scenes of loneliness.

See Hoy's Old Man, whose summit bare
Pierces the dark-blue fields of air,
Based in the sea, his fearful form
Glooms like the spirit of the storm,
An ocean Babel, rent and worn
By time and tide — all wild and lorn —
A giant that hath warred with heaven,
Whose ruined scalp seems thunder-riven,
Whose form the misty spray doth shroud,
Whose head the dark and hovering cloud,
Around his dread and lowering mass,
In sailing swarms the sea-fowl pass.
But when the night-cloud o'er the sea
Hangs like a sable canopy,
And when the flying storm doth scourge
Around his base the rushing surge.
Swift to his airy clefts they soar.
And sleep amidst the tempest's roar.
Or with its howling round his peak
Mingle their drear and dreamy shriek.

The dying day has had its rest
Upon the mountain's lofty crest ;
Now, o'er the ocean it has fled,
And to the past is gathered ;
From stunted shrubs of foliage bared
The farewell melodies are heard ;
The twilight spreads a duskier veil
Upon the deep and lonely dale.
And, moaning to the evening star.
The mountain stream is heard afar.

Orkney. 429

The twilight fades and night again

Claims from our time her portioned reign j

Earth sets, and leaves us to admire

Yon vaulted canopy of fire,

Those burning glories of the sky,

Those " sparks of immortality,"

Which shed from high their living light,

And blaze through the blue depths of night

At such an hour, should music stray
Soft from some isle, far, far away,
It seems to charm to silent sleep
The murmurs of the mighty deep ;
The torrent, as it speeds along,
Stills its dark waters to the song,
And the full bosom feels relief,
Soothed by the mystic "joy of grief ; "
Upon the heart-chords stealing slow,
It hallows every cherished woe,
And wakes sensations in the mind,
Wild, beautiful, and undefined.
As tones that harp-strings give the wind.

Oh ! at such soul-inspiring strain
The wondrous links of memory's chain,
Though scattered far, unite again,
And Time and Distance strive in vain.
Again Youth's fairy visions pass
In morning glow o'er Memory's glass,
At every magic melting fall
They come like echoes to their call,
And with the dreams of vanished years
Steal forth again our smiles and tears.

John Malcolm.

430 Scenes from **The Buccaneer."

SCENES FROM **THE BUCCANEER.'*
Night.

Night walked in beauty o'er the peaceful sea,
Whose gentle waters spake tranquillity ;
With dreamy lull the rolling billow broke
In hollow murmurs on the distant rock ;
The sea-bird wailed along the airy steep ;
The creak of distant oar was on the deep.
So still the scene, the boatman's voice was heard ;
The listening ear could almost catch each word ;
From isles remote the house-dog's fitful bay
Came floating o'er the waters far away ;
And homeward wending o'er the silent hill,
The lonely shepherd's song and whistle shrill;
The lulling murmur of the mountain flood,
That sung its night-hymn to the solitude ;
The curlew's wild and desolate farewell,
As slow she sailed adown the darksome dell ;
The heathcock whirring o'er the heathy vale ;
The mateless plover's far-forsaken wail ;
The rush of tides that round the islands ran,
And danced like maniacs in the moonlight wan, —
All formed a scene so wild, and yet so fair,
As might have wooed the heart from dreams of care,
If aught had charms to soothe, or balm to heal.
The pangs that guilt is ever doomed to feel

Morning.

Day dawns, and from the main the mist is furled,
The night-cloak of a solitary world ;
And slow emerging from the fleecy cloud
The mountains soar like giants from the shroud.
High o'er the rest, and towering to the storm,
Glooms o'er the ocean Hoy's majestic form ;

Scenes from *'The Buccaneer." 431

From his lone head, as roll the clouds away,

Behold Creation bursting into day,

As first it broke from night and nothingness,

When the Great Spirit brooded o'er the abyss.

How calm and clear the boundless waters seem,

As if awakening from a heavenly dream ;

The little isles within their bosom lie.

Like dwellers in a bright infinity ;

The crag terrific beetling o'er the west

Beholds the heaven reflected in their breast.

The dark-brown hills embrace each silent bay

That loves amid their solitude to stray ;

And far beneath, with low sepulchral sound.

Moans the dark torrent through the dell profound ;

And from the thunder-throne, the mountain cairn,

Shrieks to the waste the solitary erne

Scenes of my song, of earliest smiles and tears.
Ye wake the memories of departed years !
The distant murmur of your mountain streams
Steals o'er my spirit with departed dreams,
"With many a tale and recollected lay.
Which, like the twilight of an autumn day,
Faint on your shores, of wonderful and wild.
Meet for the musing moods of Fancy's child.
There have I roamed o'er many a soaring steep
When the last day-gleam died along the deep,
And o'er the still and solitary land.
The distant music of the reaper band
Came soft and mournful on the pensive soul.
As mermaid's siren song o'er ocean's roll.
There have I gazed upon the pathless seas,
As on the gates of two eternities —
Far east, where future days shall gild the wave,
And west, where all the past hath found a grave.

John Malcolm.

432 To Orkney.

TO ORKNEY.

Land of tlie whirlpool, torrent, foam,

Where oceans meet in maddening shock ;
The beetling cliff, the shelving holm,

The dark, insidious rock ;
Land of the bleak, the treeless moor,

The sterile mountain, seared and riven ;
The shapeless cairn, the ruined tower,

Scathed by the bolts of heaven ;
The yawning gulf, the treacherous sand ;—
I love thee still, my native land !

Land of the dark, the Kunic rhyme,

The mystic ring, the cavern hoar,
The Scandinavian seer, sublime

In legendary lore ;
Land of a thousand sea-kings' graves —

Those tameless spirits of the past,
Fierce as their subject Arctic waves.

Or hyperborean blast ;
Though polar billows round thee foam,
I love thee ! — thou wert once my home.

With glowing heart and island lyre.

Ah ! would some native bard arise
To sing, with all a poet's fire.

Thy stern sublimities —
The roaring flood, the rushing stream,

The promontory wild and bare,
The pyramid where sea-birds scream

Aloft in middle air.
The Druid temple on the heath,
Old even beyond tradition's breath.

The Temple of Nature. 433

Though I have roamed through verdant glades,

In cloudless climes, 'neath azure skies ;
Or plucked from beauteous Orient meads

Flowers of celestial dyes ;
Though I have laved in limpid streams

That murmur over golden sands.
Or basked amid the fulgent beams

That flame o'er fairer lands ;
Or stretched me in the sparry grot, —
My country ! thou wert ne'er forgot.

David Vedder.
(Native of Deerness ; 1790-1854.)

THE TEMPLE OF NATURE.

Talk not of temples ; there is one,

Built witliout hands, to mankind given.
Its lamps are the meridian sun

And all the stars of heaven ;
Its walls are the cerulean sky ;

Its floor the earth so green and fair ;
The dome is vast immensity, —

All nature worships there !

The Alps, arrayed in stainless snow,

The Andean ranges yet untrod,
At sunrise and at sunset glow

Like altar-fires to God !
A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze,

As if with hallowed victims rare ;
And thunder lifts its voice in praise.

All nature worships there !

(1,384) 28

434 The Temple of Nature.

The ocean heaves resistlessly,

And pours his glittering treasures forth ;
His waves, the priesthood of the sea,

Kneel on the shell-gemmed earth,
And there emit a hollow sound,

As if they murmured praise and prayer;
On every side 'tis hallowed ground, —

All nature worships there !

The grateful earth her odours yield

In homage, Mighty One, to Thee,
From herbs and flowers in every field,

From fruit on every tree ;
The balmy dew, at morn and even.

Seems like the penitential tear,
Shed only in the sight of Heaven, —

All nature worships there !

The cedar and the mountain pine,

The willow on the fountain's brim,
The tulip and the eglantine.

In reverence bend to Him ;
The song-birds pour their sweetest lays

From tower, and tree, and middle air ;
The rushing river murmurs praise, —

All nature worships there !

Then talk not of a fane, save one,

Built without hands, to mankind given.
Its lamps are the meridian sun

And all the stars of heaven ;
Its walls are the cerulean sky ;

Its floor the earth so green and fair ;
The dome is vast immensity, —

All nature worships there !

David Vedder.

APPENDIX I.

CHRONOLOGY OF ORCADIAN HISTORY TO THE
END OF THE EARLDOM,

WITH EELATED COKTEMPORAEY EVENTS. "

Certain historians assign earlier dates than those given below to the events
before 933. The chronology adopted here is that which harmonizes best with the
dates of events in other lands during that period. Approximate dates are marked
" c" (circa) ; events not directly connected with the Earldom are in square brackets,
and their dates in lighter type.

A.D.

78 (c.) Agricola's visit to Orkney.
563. [Coluniba in Scotland,]
580 (c.) Cormac's missionary journey to Orkney.
597. [Augustine in England.]

787. [First recorded appearance of Vikings in England.]
800 (c.) [First period of Norse colonization begins.]
841. [Rouen taken by the Norsemen.]
852. [Norse kingdom established in Dublin.]
862. [Rurik founds the Norse line in Russia.]
87L [Alfred the Great King of England.]
885. [Siege of Paris by the Norsemen.]

900. Battle of Harfursfirth — Second period of Norse colonization
begins.

— [Iceland colonized by Norsemen.]

901 (c.) Harald Fairhair in Orkney — Earldom established.

— Sigurd I. earl.

905 (c.) Battle with Maelbrigda of Ross — Sigurd's death.

— Guttorm, Sigurd's son, earl.
907 (c.) Hallad, son of Rognvald, Earl of Moeri, earl.
910. Einar I. (Torf Einar), Rognvald's son, earl.
912. [Rolf or Rollo, Rognvald's son, Duke of Normandy.]
933. Arnkell, Erlend L, and Thorfinn I., Einar's sons, joint-earls.
950. [King Eric (Bloody axe) expelled from Norway.]

436 Appendix.

954. Eric and Earls Amkell and Erlend fall at battle of Stainsmoor.

963. Arnfinn, Havard, Ljot, and Hlodve, Thorfinn's sons, joint-earls.

980. Signrd II. (the Stout), Hlodve's son, earl.

980. [Discovery of Greenland by the Norsemen.]

986. [Discovery of America (Vinland) by the Norsemen.]

995. Conversion of Sigurd to Christianity by Olaf Tryggvason.

998. [Olaf Tryggvason, King of Norway.]

1014. Battle of Clontarf— Death of Earl Sigurd.

— Sumarlid, Einar II., Brusi, and (later) Thorfinn II., Sigurd's

sons, joint-earls.

1015. [Olaf the Saint King of Norway.]
1015. Death of Earl Sumarlid.

1017. [Knut (Canute) King of England.]

1020. Murder of Einar II.

1027. [Norse kingdom established in Southern Italy.]

1030. [Battle of Sticklestad— Death of St. Olaf.]

1031» Death of Earl Brusi— Thorfinn II. sole earl.

— Hognvald, Brusi's son, claims a share of the earldom.

1045. Battle in the Pentland Firth between Rognvald and Thorfinn.

1046. Murder of Rognvald in Papa Stronsay.

1056. [Malcolm Canmore King of Scotland.]

1057. Christ's Kirk in Birsay founded.

1064. Death of Thorfinn ; his sons Paul I. and Erlend II. joint-earls.
1066. Harald Hardradi visits Orkney.

— Harold, Godwin's son, King of England.

— Battle of Stamford Bridge.

— Invasion of Duke William of Normandy— Battle of Hastings.
1087. [Moorish Empire established in Spain.]

1096. [First Crusade.]

1098. Magnus (Barefoot), King of Norway, sends the Orkney earls to

Norway, and makes his son Sigurd "King" of Orkney.
1103. [Death of Magnus— Sigurd King of Norway.]
1103. Hakon, Paul's son, and Magnus, Friend's son, joint-earls.
1115, Murder of Earl Magnus (St. Magnus) in Egilsay.
1122. Death of Earl Hakon; his sons Harald I. and Paul II. joint-earls.
1127. Death of Harald — Paul sole earl.
1129. Rognvald II. (Kali) appointed joint-earl by King Sigurd.

1135. Rognvald's first expedition to claim the earldom.

— St. Magnus Church, Egilsaj^, founded.

1136. Rognvald's second expedition— Earl Paul kidnapped by Sweyn

Asleifson.

1137. St. Magnus Cathedral founded.
1139. Harald II. (Maddadson) joint-earl.

1151. Crusaders winter in Orkney.

1152. Earl Rognvald's Crusade to Jerusalem.
1154. Erlend III. joint-earl.

Appendix. 437

1156. Death of Erlend III.

1158. Earl Eognvald killed.

1171. Sweyn Asleifson's last cruise and death at Dublin.

1171. [English invasion of Ireland.]

1175. Abbot Laurentius transferred from Orkney (Eynhallow) to

Melrose.
1194. [Battle of Flora voe, near Bergen ; defeat of the " Island-

beardies."]

1196. Shetland separated from the Orkney earldom.

1197. Harald III. (the Young), grandson of Rognvald, joint-earl.

1198. Death of Harald the Young.

1206. Death of Earl Harald II. (Maddadson) ; his sons David and John

joint-earls.
1214. Death of Earl David.

1214. [Alexander II. King of Scotland.]

1215. [Magna Charta granted in England.]
1222. Burning of Bishop Adam in Caithness.

— Death of Bjarne, the poet-bishop of Orkney.

1231. Death of John, the last earl of the Norse line.

1232. Magnus II., the first of the Angus line, earl.

— Loss of ship carrying the chief men of the Isles from Norway.
1239. Gilbride I. earl.

? Gilbride II. earl.
1249. [Alexander III. King of Scotland.]
1256. Magnus III. earl.
1263. King Hakon's expedition— Battle of Largs— Death of Hakon at

Kirkwall.
1266. Treaty of Perth—" Annual of Norway " established.
1276. Magnus IV. earl.
1284. John II. earl.
1286. [Death of Alexander III. of Scotland — Margaret of Norway

heiress to the crown.]
1292. [Death of Margaret the " Maid of Norway."]
1306. [Robert Bruce King of Scotland. According to a tradition, the

credibility of which is supported by various lines of evidence,

Bruce passed the winter of 1306-7 in Orkney, not in the

island of Rathlin.]
1310. Magnus Y. earl.

1312. [Treaty of Perth confirmed at Inverness.]
1314. [Battle of Bannockburn.]
1325. Death of Earl Magnus Y. ; end of the Angus line.

— Malise of Stratherne earl.
1353. Erngisl earl.

1379. Death of Earl Erngisl ; end of the Stratherne line.

— Henry I. (St. Clair) earl— Shetland restored to the earldom.

— Union of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark (Union of Calniar).

438 Appendix.

1400. Henry II. (St. Clair) earl.

1406. [Prince James of Scotland captured by the English when on his

way to France,]
1420. Bishop William Tulloch, commissioner in Orkney for the Crown

of Norway.
1423. David Menzies of Wemyss commissioner.
1434. William St. Clair earl, the last earl under Norse rule.
1453. [Constantinople taken by the Turks.]
1468. Orkney and Shetland pledged to the Scottish Crown.
— Marriage of James III. of Scotland to Margaret of Denmark.

1471. Lands and revenues of Earl William purchased by the Scottish

Crown.

1472. Bishop William Tulloch appointed to collect Crown revenues.
1485. Henry St. Clair representative of the Crown.

1492. [First voyage of Columbus.]
1497. [Voyage of Cabot to Labrador.]
1513. Battle of Flodden— Death of Henry St. Clair.
1524. [Union of Calmar dissolved.]
1529. Battle of Summerdale.
1540. James V. of Scotland visits Orkney.
1542. [Marjr Queen of Scots born.]

1565. Lord Robert Stewart obtains a feu charter of Orkney and Shet-
land.

1567. [Mary Queen of Scots deposed — James VI. proclaimed — Flight of

Both well to Orkney and Shetland.]

1568. The Islands resumed by the Crown of Scotland.
1581. Lord Robert Stewart earl.

1588. [The Armada.]

1592. Earl Patrick Stewart obtains the Islands.

1603. [Union of the Crowns of Scotland and England.!

1614. Execution of Earl Patrick.

APPENDIX II.

NOESE WOEDS IN OEKNEY PLACE-NAMES.

The following is a list of the Norse words most commonly found in place-names
in Orkney, with their meaning. The forms in which they now appear, as names or
parts of names, are given in italic, except where the old form is preserved with
little change.

1. Land Features.

Ass, ridge ; -house.

Bjarg, rocky hill ; -berry^ -bcr.

Bratt, steep ; hrett-.

Brekka, slope ; -hreck.

Dal, valley; -dale, -dall.

FjaU, hill ; -fell, -fea, -fiold.

Gil, narrow glen ; -gill.

Grjot, gravel ; grut-.

Hals, neck, col ; hass.

Hammar, crag.

Haug, mound ; hoive, hox-,

Hlith, slope ; -lee.

Hvall, holl, hill ; hoi-, hool-.

Hvamm, small valley, grassy slope ;

quholm.
Kamb, ridge or crest ; Jcam(^,
Knapp, hill-top, knob.
Kuml, burial mound ; cumla-.
Leir, clay ; ler-.
Mel, sandbank, sandy downs.
Mor, pi. raos, moor ; mous-, -mo.
Myri, wet meadow ; -mire.
Skal, soft rock, shale ; skel-,
Thufa, mound ; -too.
Varthi, watch-tower; ward, xvart.
VoU, valley ; vel-, -tcall.

2. Fresh Watee.

A, 0, or, burn.

Brun, well ; -burn.

Fors, waterfall ; furs-.

Kelda, spring.

Oss, burn-mouth ; oi/ce.

Tjdrn, small lake ; -shun.

Vatn, water ; imtten.

3. Shore Features.

Bakki, banks ; -hack.

Barth, projecting headland (edge of

a hill, beak of a ship, etc. ).
Berg, mass of rock ; -ber, -berry.
Bringa, breast ; bring.
Eitli, isthmus ; aith, -ay, -a,
Ey, island ; ey, -ay, -a.
Eyrr, gravel beach ; ayre.
Fles, flat skerry ; flashes.
Gniip, peak ; nouji.
Hella, flat rock ; -hell y a.
Hellir, cave ; -hellya.
Holm, small island.
Klett, low rock ; -clett.
Muli, muzzle, lip ; moul.
Nef, nbv, nose ; nevi.
Nes, nose : -ness.

440

Appendix.

Oddi, sharp point ; od.
Sker, skerry.
Stakk, pillar rock ; stack.
Tangi, tongue; -taing.

4. Sea Features.

Brim, surf.

Efja, backwater, eddy ; evie.

Fjorth, firth ; firth, -ford.

Gja, chasm, creek ; geo.

Glup, throat ; gloup.

Hafn, harbour ; ham, hamn-.

Hop, shallow bay.

Straum, tide-stream ; strom-.

Vag-, narrow bay ; voe, -wall.

Vath, wading-place, ford ; icaith.

Vik, bay ; -ivick.

5. Fabms and Houses.

Bolstadr, dwelling ; -'buster, -bister,

•bist.
Brtl, bridge ; hro-.
Bu, bser, farm ; bu, -by.
Bygging, building, from byggja, to

settle, to build ; -biggin.
Garth, enclosure, dyke ; -garth,

-ger.
Grind, gate.

Hagi, enclosed pasture ; hack-.
Hus, house.
Kro, sheepf old ; -croo.

Kvl, cattle pen ; -quoy.

Rett, sheepfold ; -ret.

Sel, " saeter " hut ; selli-,

Setr, saetr, out-pasture; seatter,

-setter, -ster.
3kali, hall, house ; -skaill.
Skipti, dividing, boundary ; skippi-.
Stadr, homestead ; -ster, -sta.
otofa, room, house ; stove.
rhopt, plot, site of a house; -toft,

-taft.
Tun, enclosure, hedge ; -ton, -town.

6. Miscellaneous.

Djup, deep ; deep-, jub-.

Faer, sheep ; far-.

Flat, flat ; flot-.

Gra, gray.

Graenn, green.

Ha, high ; ho-.

Helgr, holy ; hellya.

Hest, horse.

Hrafn, raven ; rara-, ramn-,

Hross, horse ; russ-.

Hund, dog.

Hvit, white ; loheetha-.

Ling', heather.

Mykill, great ; muckle.

Raud, red ; ro-.

Skalp, ship ; scap-.

Skip, ship.

Svart, black; swarf-.

APPENDIX III.

LIST OF BIRDS FOUND IN ORKNEY.

Local names are given in brackets. An asterisk (*) indicates that the bird is
not known to breed in the islands. When any bird not in this list is found, it will
usually be worth while to put the fact on record.

*Auk, Little (Rotchie).

Blackbird (Blackie).

Bunting, Corn (Chirlie Buntling).

*Bunting, Snow (Snowflake).

Chaffincli — rare.

Coot (Snaith).

Cormorant (Palmer, Scarf).

Crow, Hooded (Craa, Hoodie Craa,

Grayback).
Cuckoo— mre.
Curlew (Whaup).

*Diver, Black-throated— rftre.
*Diver, Great Northern (Immer

Goose).
Diver, Red-throated.
*Dotterel— rare.

Dove, Ring (Wood-pigeon) — rare.
Dove, Rock.
Dove, Stock.
Duck, Eider (Dunter).
*Duck, Golden-eye — rare.
Duck, Long-tailed (Calloo)— rare
*Duck, Scaup— rare.
Duck, Sheld (Sly-goose).
Duck, TeaL

Duck, Tufted.

Duck, Wild (Stock Duck).

Dunlin (Plover-page, Plover-pag-

ick).

Falcon, Peregrine.
'Fieldfare.

Gannet or Solan Goose.

*Goose, Bernacle— rare.

"Goose, Brent.

"Goose, Graylag— ?'a?'e.

Grehe, Little.

Greenfinch (Green Lintie).

Grouse, Red (Muirhen).

Guillemot, Black (Tyste).

Guillemot, Common (Aak).

Gull, Black-headed.

Gull, Common (White-maa).

Gull, Greater Black-backed (Baa-

kie).
Gull, Herring (White-maa).
Gull, Lesser Black-backed.

Hen Harrier (Goose-haak).
Heron, Common.

Jackdaw (Jackie, Kae).

U2

Appendix.

Kestrel (Moosie Haak).
Kittiwake (Kittie, Kittick, Kitti-
waako).

Lapwing (Teeack, Teewhup).
Linnet (Lintie, Lintick).

Merganser, Red-toreasted (Sawbill,

Harl, Rantick).
Merlin.
Moorhen (Waterhen).

Owl, Long-eared — ra^-e.

Owl, Short-eared (Cattie-face).

Oyster Catcher (Skeldro).

Petrel, Fulmar.

Petrel, Stormy (Sea-swallow).

Phalarope, Red-necked.

Pipit, Meadow (Teeting).

Pipit, Rock (Tang Sparrow, Tang
Teeting).

Plover, Golden.

Plover, Ringed (Sandlark, Sin-
lack).

Pochard.

Puffin (Tammie-norrie).

Quail — rare.

Rail, Land (Corncrake).

Rail, Water— rare.

Raven (Corbie).

Razorbill (Cooter-neb).

Redbreast (Robin Redbreast).

Redshank.

*Redwing.

Rook.

*Sanderling — rare.
Sandpiper, Common.

'Scoter, Common.

*Scoter, Surf— rare.

*Scoter, Velvet.

Shag (Scarf).

Shearwater, Manx (Lyrie).

Shoveller— rare.

Skua, Richardson's (Scootie-

allan).
Skylark (Laverock, Lavro).
^'Smew — rare.

Snipe (Snippick, Horse-gowk).
Sparrow, Hedge.
Sparrow, House (Sprug).
Starling (Stirling, Strill).
*Stint, Little— rare.
Stonechat— rar-e*
*Swan, Hooper— rare.

Tern, Arctic (Pickie-terno, Rit-

tick).
Tern, Common (Pickie-terno, Rit-

tick).
Tern, Sandwich— rare.
Thrush (Mavis).
^■Turnstone— rare.
Twite (Heather Lintie).

Wagtail, Pied (Willie -wagtail).

Warbler, Sedge— rare.

Wheatear (Chackie,! Stone-
chat).

Whimbrel (Little Whaup, Simimer
Whaup) — rare.

Whinchat— rare.

Widgeon.

Woodcock— rare.

Wren (Wirenn, Jenny Wren).

Wren, Gold-crested— rare.

Yellowhammer (Yallow Yar-
ling).

APPENDIX IV.

BOOKS FOR FURTHER STUDY.

The subjoined list of books is given as a guide to further study by those who may
wish to extend their knowledge of Orkney in any of the aspects suggested in this
book. It is not in any sense a complete list of works relating to the Islands, nor
does it, on the other hand, confine itself to such works in subjects where general
study is the best foundation for local research. The books marked * are now out
of print, and can only be obtained from libraries, or bought, when occasion offers,
from dealers in second-hand books. As regards books still current, the list may be
helpful to those who are building up scliool or parisli libraries in the Islands. The
most complete bibliography of Orkney and Shetland is the List of Books and
Pamphlets relating to Orkney and Shetland, by James W. Cursiter, F. S.A.Scot.
(Wm. Peace and Son, Kirkwall, 1894.)

Archaeology and Early History.

*Orkneyinga Saga. Translated by Hjaltalin and Goudie. Edited,
with Notes, by Anderson. (Edinburgh, 1873.) The historical introduction
by Dr. Joseph Anderson is of special value.

The Orkneyingers' Saga. Translated by Sir G. W. Dasent. (London,
1894; Rolls Edition.) A very fine spirited rendering into English, as
may be seen from the extracts given in the first part of this book.

The Saga of Hacon, and a fragment of the Saga of Magnus. Trans-
lated by Sir G. W. Dasent. (London, 1894 ; Rolls Edition.) This gives
the Norse account of the battle of Largs, and events leading up to it.

The Icelandic text of the two preceding books is published in separate
volumes in the same series.

The Story of Burnt Njal. By Sir G. W. Dasent. (Edinburgh, 1861 ;
also a later and cheaper edition.) This is the finest of the Icelandic
sagas. It deals mainly with life in Iceland, but contains several refer-
ences to Orkney under Earl Sigurd the Stout, and the fine description of
the battle of Clontarf quoted in this book.

The War of the Gaedhil with the Gaill ; or, The Invasion of Ireland
by the Danes and other Norsemen. Irish text, with translation and
introduction by Jas. H. Todd. (London, 1867 ; Rolls Edition. ) This

444 Appendix.

gives an account from the Irish point of view of the Norse invasions of
Ireland up to and inchiding the battle of Clontarf.

The Heimskringla ; or, Ctiromcles of the Kings of Norway. Trans-
lated by Samuel Laing. (3 vols., London, 1844; new edition, edited by
Dr. R. B. Anderson, 4 vols., London, 1889.)

Heimskringla Saga. The Saga Library Edition. Translated by
Wm. Morris and Eirikr Magnusson. (4 vols., London, 1893-1905.) The
sagas included in the Heimskringla form a history of the early kings of
Norway, and contain frequent references to Orkney. Snorri Sturlason,
the author, ranks among the greatest of historians.

Corpus Poeticum Boreale. By Gudbrand Vigfusson and F. York
Powell. (2 vols., Oxford, 1883.) This is an almost complete collection of
old Norse Eddie and Court poetry, including poems by Torf Einar,
Arnor the Earl's poet, Earl Rognvald, and Bishop Bjarni. In a valu-
able introduction Vigfusson shows that many of the Eddie lays were
written in the western Norse colonies in the British Isles, and some of
them presumably in the Orkney earldom.

Icelandic Primer. By Henry Sweet. (Oxford, 1886.)

Icelandic Prose Reader. By G. Vigfusson and F. York Powell.
(Oxford, 1879.)

Icelandic-English Dictionary. By R,. Cleasby. Edited by G. Vig
fusson, with appendix by W. W. Skeat. (London, 1874.)

The preceding three books form the best equipment for studying the
language of the Norse period.

The Dialect and Place-Names of Shetland. By J. Jakobsen. (Ler-
wick, 1897. ) Many of the place-names explained occur in Orkney.

The Vikings in Western Christendom, by 0. F. Keary (London, 1891),
gives an interesting account of the early Viking age, from 789 to 888 a.D.

Saga Time, by J. Fulford Vicary (London, 1887), gives a popular
description of society from the ninth to the eleventh century.

Orcades, seu Rerum Orcadensium Historia. By Thormodus Torfaeus,
Icelandic historian (1697). Translated by Alexander Pope, minister of
Reay. (Wick, 1866.) Only a partial translation.

*Account of the Danes and Norwegians in England, Scotland, and
Ireland. By J. J. A. Worsaae ; translation. (London, 1852.) A standard
work.

Monumenta Orcadica : the Norsemen in the Orkneys and the Monu-
ments they have left, with a Survey of the Celtic Pre-Norwegian and
Scottish Post-Norwegian Monuments in the Islands. By L. Dietrichson.
(Christiania, 1906.) The most recent and most scientific account of the
Norse remains in Orkney, written in Norwegian, but with a very full
summary — almost equivalent to a translation — in English. Of special
interest is the account of the newly-discovered monastery in Eynhallow.

The Viking Age. By Paul du Chaillu. (2 vols., London, 1889.) An
account of the manners and customs, as well as tlie history, of the Viking
period ; well illustrated, but not accurate or authoritative.

Appendix. 445

The Early Kings of Norway. By Thomas Carlyle. (London, 1875.)
A short accoiint of the period from 860 to 1397 j of no great historical
value.

Norse Mythology.

"^Northern Mythology. By Benjamin Thorpe. (3 vols., London, 1851.)
The best and most complete work on the subject.

Northern Antiquities. By P. Mallet ; translation. (London, 1770 ;
edition in Bohn's Series.)
The Mythology of the Eddas. By C. F. Keary. (London, 1882.)
Norse Mythology: the Religion of our Forefathers. By E,. B. Ander-
son. (Chicago, 1875.)

Asgard and the Gods : a Manual of Norse Mythology. By Dr. W.
Wagner. (London, 1880.) The best popular book on the subject.
The Tragedy of the Norse Gods. By R. J. Pitt.
Heroes and Hero-Worship. By Thomas Carlyle. (London, 1841.)
The Earthly Paradise. By William Morris. (London, 1868-70.)
Sigurd the Volsung. By William Morris. (London, 1877. )
Epic and Romance. Essays on Mediseval Literature by W. P. Ker.
(London, 1908.) An authoritative and very readable account of the old
Icelandic literary art.

Later History.

^History of the Orkney Islands. By the Rev. George Barry. (Edin-
burgh, 1805 ; reprinted, with prefatory account of the Islands, Kirkwall,
1867.) One of the standard works dealing with the history of the
Islands.

*Odal Rights and Feudal Wrongs. By David Balfour of Balfour.
/Edinburgh, 1860).

*Oppressions of the Sixteenth Century in the Islands of Orkney and
Zetland. (Edinburgh, 1859 ; Abbotsford and Maitland Clubs publica-
tions.)

The above two books give an account of Orkney under Scottish rule.

'Monteith's Description of the Islands of Orkney and Zetland.
(Edinburgh, 1711; reprinted 1845.)

"General Vie-w of the Agriculture of the Orkney Islands. By John
Shirreflf. (Edinburgh, 1814. ) An exceedingly interesting account of the
state of the Islands in the early nineteenth century.

Description of the Isles of Orkney. By the Rev. James Wallace
(minister of Kirkwall). Published by his son. (Edinburgh, 1693; re-
printed, with notes by John Small, M.A., Edinburgh, 1883.)

The Present State of the Orkney Islands Considered. By James Pea
(Surgeon). (Edinburgh, 1775 ; reprinted, Edinburgh, 1884.)

Orkney and Shetland Old-Lore Series. A miscellany issued quarterly
by the Viking Club, London ; contains numerous articles of historical
interest.

446 Appendix.

Descriptive.

*Tlie Orkneys and Shetland. By John R. Tudor. (London, 1883.)
The best descriptive work on the county ; at once popular and sys-
tematic.

Kirkwall in the Orkneys. By B. H. Hossack. (Kirkwall, 1900.) An
extremely full and detailed descriptive and historical account of the
town of Kirkwall.

^History of the Orkney Islands, by the Eev. George Barry (Kirkwall
edition, 1867), contains a well-written description of the Islands.

*Suniniers and Winters in the Orkneys. By Daniel Gorrie. (Kirk-
wall, N.D.) A valuable series of sketches of Orcadian scenery and the
conditions of life about the middle of last century.

Rambles in the Far North. By R. M. Fergusson. (Paisley, 1884.)

Our Trip North. By R. M. Fergusson. (London, 1892.)

Handhook to the Orkney Islands. (W. Peace and Son, Kirkwall. ) Full
of interest.

Orkney and Shetland. By M. J. B. Baddeley, B.A. Thorough Guide
Series. (Thomas Nelson and Sons, London.) The best tourist guide to
the Islands.

Orkney and Shetland Almanac and County Directory (W. Peace
and Son, Kirkwall; issued annually) contains statistical and other
material of value.

The North Sea Pilot. Parti. (London, 1894.) A Government publi-
cation for the use of mariners. Of much value to Orcadians interested
in boating or in navigation.

Tour through the Islands of Orkney and Shetland. By the Rev.
George Low, with introduction by Dr. Joseph Anderson. (Kirkwall,
1879.) An interesting account of the appearance of the Islands at the
end of the eighteenth century.

Geology.

There is no book dealing specifically with the geology of Orkney.
Recourse must be had either to books dealing with the science generally,
or to those dealing with the Islands in which their geology is included.

The Orkneys and Shetland (Tudor) contains an account of the
geology of the islands, written by Drs. Peach and Home, with a useful
geological map.

The most recent and complete geological survey of Orkney is that by
Dr. J. S. Flett, an account of which is contained in two papers in the
Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.

Some of Hugh Miller's works, such as The Testimony of the Rocks,
The Old Red Sandstone, Rambles of a Geologist, and Footprints of the
Creator, contain numerous references to the geology of Orkney.

Robert Dick, by Dr. Samuel Smiles, is an interesting account of a

Appendix. 447

Thurso baker who devoted his life to the study of geology in Caithness,
where the rock formation is the same as that of Orkney.

Among general works in geology suitable for beginners may be men-
tioned Huxley's Physiography and Sir Archibald Geikie's Outlines of
Field Geology, his Class-book of Geology, and his Scenery of Scotland.

Botany.

The Orkneys and Shetland (Tudor) contains a list of the rarer British
plants found in Orkney, compiled by W. I. Fortescue.

Volume xviii. of the Transactions of the Botanical Society of Edin-
burgh contains a complete list of Orkney plants by Prof. J. W. H.
Traill. Another list is in preparation by Mr. Magnus Spence.

The Marine Algae of the Orkney Islands, by G. W. Traill (Edinburgh,
1890), contains a list of the seaweeds of Orkney.

The following are some general works on botany which may be of
service to the beginner :— Open-air Studies in Botany, by R. L. Praeger
(London, 1897), a stiidy of wild flowers in their homes, with illustrations;
Flowering Plants, their Structure and Habitat, by C. L. Laurie, illus-
trated (London, 1903) ; Nature Studies, by G. F. Scott-Elliot (London,
1903) ; A Plant Book for Schools, by O. V. Darbyshire, illustrated
(London, 1908) ; Flowers of the Field, by C. A. Johns (London, 1894).

Common Objects of the Seashore, by the Rev. J. G. Wood (London,
1866), contains good descriptions and illustrations of the seaweeds.

Eor identification of plants perhaps the best books are the British
Flora, by Bentham and Hooker (London, 1904), and Illustrations to
Bentham and Hooker's British Flora, by Fitch and Smith (London,
1905).

For mosses, the best book is Dixon and Jameson's Student's Handbook
of British Mosses.

Zoology.

For a general introduction to natural history the best books are — Life
and her Children (London, 1880), and Winners in Life's Race (London,
1882), by Miss A. B. Buckley (Mrs. Fisher), and Professor Arthur J.
Thomson's fascinating Study of Animal Life, which gives a list of other
books on zoology.

The animals of the seashore are dealt with in Rev. J. G. ^Yood's
Common Objects of the Seashore and Fresh and Salt Water Aquarium ;
Seaside Studies, by G. H. Lewes ; The Aquarium, by P. H. Gosse ; and
The Aquarium, its Inhabitants, Structure, and Management, by J. E.
Taylor.

Gosse's Manual of Marine Zoology for the British Isles (2 vols.,
London, 1856) still remains the best book for the identification of marine
animals.

448 Appendix.

For the study of birds the best works are the following :— The Birds
of Shetland, by H. L. Saxby (Edinburgh, 1884) ; The Birds of the West
of Scotland, by Robert Gray ; Bird-Watching andlThe Bird-Watcher
in the Shetlands, by Edmund Selous.

Saunders's Manual of British Birds (London, 1889) is the best single
book for the identification of birds, each species being illustrated.

The Vertebrate Fauna of the Orkney Islands, by J. A. Harvie Brown
and T. E. Buckley (Edinburgh, 1891), is in greater part a list of the
birds of Orkney, with a short account of each.

Orcadian Papers: being Selections from the Proceedings of the
Orkney Natural History Society from 1887 to 1904. Edited by M. M.
Charleson, E. S.A.Scot. (Stromness, 1905.) The selections are not con-
fined to natural history, but include historical and other contributions.

Fiction, Poetry, etc.

The Pirate. By Sir Walter Scott.

Poems, etc. By David Vedder. Edited by the Rev. G. Gilfillan.
(Kirkwall, n.d.)

Poems, Tales, and Sketches. By Lieutenant John Malcolm, with
introduction by the Rev. G. Gilfillan. (Kirkwall, n.d.)

*The Orcadian Sketch-Book. By Walter Traill Dennison. (Kirkwall,
1880.) A unique collection of stories and poems written in the "North
Isles " dialect of the Orkney vernacular.

Orcadian Sketches. By W. T. Dennison. With introduction by
J. Storer Clouston. (Kirkwall, 1904. ) A selection from the preceding.

The Pilots of Pomona. By Robert Leigh ton. (London, 1892.)

Sons of the Vikings. By Dr. J. Gunn, M.A. (Edinburgh, 1893.
Cheaper edition, 1909. )

The Boys of HamnavOe. By Dr. J. Gunn, M.A. (Edinburgh, 1894.)

Vandrad the Viking. By J. Storer Clouston. (Edinburgh, 1897.)

Garmiscath. By J. Storer Clouston. (Cheaper edition, London,
1904.)

In addition to the material available in book form, much excellent
literature in prose and in verse, with more or less direct relation to
Orkney, has appeared in various magazines above the names of
Duncan J. Robertson, J. Storer Clouston, and others, specimens of
which are included in the pages of this volume.

THE END.

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Connecticut

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