Author: Max Fletcher

ROUSAY

As constant traffic smooths the way,
So thoughts recurring day by day
For us long gone joys recast
And pluck the thorns from the past.

So dearer grows “Lang Syne” for me –
You gladden every memory.
Well I remember all thy charms –
The laird’s big house, the cheerful farms;

Gay festal board or humbler fare,
Each guest was ever welcome there.
No politics or worldly strife
Clouded the sunshine of your life;

Each morn brought with the rising sun
The daily task so gladly done.
Ah! how the bairnies loved to play
With father in the fields all day,

Returning home in huge delight,
And boastful tell of all their might –
How father let them “Auld Dick” ride
Whilst he walked, watchful, by their side:

You good old horse, how well you knew
What confidence we placed in you.
Then at tea-time, what news to tell –
Which lamb was ill, what calf was well;

How this or that quey milked to-day;
How many eggs the hens would lay:
With care they’d pay the grocer’s bill
And leave enough for home use still.

Next, while the gude-wife clears away,
Does the last milking for the day,
The husband, fishing by the shore,
Adds cuithes and sillocks to his store.

Ah! how the nights are then beguiled
By dances, games, or gossip mild;
Thus every day is made complete
With honest toil and joy discreet.

Nor should I here forget to state
How sport returns at each fixed date –
The peat-cut and the home-brewed ale,
With dinner taken in the vale;

Your “muckle supper” and the ball
The farmer gives in rustic hall;
The famed prize, the “bannock cake,”
For him whose luck it be to take

The last cartload of oats inside;
Then if he fail his prize divide,
With what wild fun he’s captive made,
The victim of a harmless raid;

It’s well if in escaping he
Hath no clothes seized as penalty.
Great the good-humoured rivalry
Betwixt your neighb’ring friends and thee,

Who first shall have their harvest in,
When he who has the luck to win
May mark his victory in the race
By that old emblem of disgrace,

The dog of straw placed in the night
Astride the roof to catch the sight
Of all who pass, that they may see,
And, knowing, laugh in cheerful glee.

Even your weddings are sublime
And give amusement for all time;
The bride’s own friends must duly meet
To wash that blushing lady’s feet.

Oh! there’s a fun in all you do;
Ah! ever to such ways be true,
And ne’er to modern customs bend,
Preserve your own unto the end,

Honest, noble, generous, kind,
And to all evil ever blind;
Minds uncorrupted, pure, and true –
Would that the world held more like you!

E’er to my mind you will appear
In peaceful dreams from year to year;
For the contentment you reveal,
A happier man myself I feel.

Though times were hard and profits small,
With hopeful hearts you faced it all;
In my most earnest heart I pray
You yet may have a richer day.

If I your thoughts could now inspire,
I’d beg you grant one last desire,
That you would sometimes think of me,
As I will ever think of ye;

My loyalty shall never shake,
My love for Rousay, ne’er forsake;
Nothing I’d write could do you due,
Therefore, farewell; once more, adieu.

STROCHIO.

[Published in the Orkney Herald – September 5th 1900]
© British Newspaper Archive

ISLAND LIFE – FIFTY YEARS AGO

REMINISCENCES OF AN ORKNEY MANSE

The article below, written by Mary Catherine Rose, was printed in
the Orkney Herald on February 5th 1919.
© British Newspaper Archive.

[In 1861 the Sourin Free Kirk manse in Rousay was occupied by the Reverend Neil Patrick Rose and his newly married wife Mary Catherine Leslie. He was the son of farmer Alexander Rose and Elizabeth Payne, and was born at Weydale, parish of Thurso, in 1832. He studied in Aberdeen and Edinburgh Universities, enrolling in New College, Edinburgh, 1854-58. He married Mary Catherine Leslie on September 24th 1860, at the home of the bride, 10 Broughton Place, Edinburgh. She was born on 15th June 1834, in Edinburgh, the fifth oldest of eleven children of John Leslie, house proprietor, and Mary Wallace.]

It is now over fifty years since I left my home in Edinburgh to settle in Rousay, one of the Orkney Islands. My husband was minister of the Free Church. I myself had been brought up an Episcopalian.

We started from Granton early in the month of October by steamer to Stromness, in the so-called Mainland of Orkney, near the great new Naval Base at Scapa Flow. After a few days at Stromness, we proceeded on our journey by road to Evie. We left Evie in a small open boat, expecting to reach our island home in the afternoon, but owing to the stormy weather the boat could not reach the shore near our manse, and we were landed some five miles away, with no road to take us to our house. A farmer kindly offered a cart to convey us home. It was now about eight o’clock in the evening and quite dark. The cart jogged along up and down over the rough ground, and, when we reached the Manse, we found a neighbouring farmer and his wife kindly waiting to welcome us. A dinner had been ready since three o’clock in the afternoon!

Next morning, on looking out, I saw curious little grey stone buildings here and there. I asked my husband if these were the byres and stables for cows and horses. “Oh, no,” he said, “these are the cottages where the people live!” I said nothing, but thought it was a strange place I had come to reside in! That afternoon my husband suggested that we should visit some of the people in these curious dwellings. I must confess I wondered how we would get in at the doors of the cottages; they were so low.

But the interiors were most interesting; and it turned out that while my husband was right in saying that the people lived in these houses, I had also been right in thinking that they sheltered the animals as well. There was only an earthen floor with a flagstone on the ground in the centre, and another large stone put up as a back. This was the fireplace of the apartment, with a hole in the roof to let out the smoke. The cow lived at the other end of the cottage, and I remember that during our visit that afternoon to one of the houses she gave forth loud groans.

The island is about 14 miles round, being five miles long by four miles broad. It is fertile, and rises to a height of about 400 feet. There were three churches in it in my time, and the population numbered about a thousand people. It had two shops, but no doctor. It is the best island for grouse shooting in the Orkneys, and there is good fishing in its six fresh-water lochs.

On Sundays the people turned out well to church. Many walked to the service, which began at midday, from the far end of the island. There was no hurry either on week days or on Sundays, and the people liked a long sermon. The Free Church people were fortunate in having a precentor who was very musical. After my arrival, he used to come to the Manse to hear our piano and our organ, there being no other instruments in the island. During the winter the choir met in the church once a week for practice. The precentor trained the choir well; they could even sing the Hallelujah Chorus. The small organ used to be carried down from the Manse to the church. It is not generally known that instrumental music was so early introduced to our island church in Orkney. We were using an organ every Sunday while the good people in the south were forbidding its use as a Popish invention! So in some ways at least we were ahead of the times, and not behind them !

The uncertainty of the post was one of the drawbacks of the island. Many times it would be a fortnight between the mails. The Manse was seven miles from the shore post office, and when it was thought that the winds and the tides and the currents would allow the boat to sail, a woman was engaged to take the letters to the boat. She left the Manse at 7 a.m., and got back at 6 p.m., having to wait for the return boat with the letters and papers from the south. For this journey on foot she was paid threepence and her tea. There were few newcomers to the island, but once a tramp succeeded in landing. He was a negro, the first specimen most of the people had ever seen, and he scared the inhabitants by wandering about the island wearing a minister’s gown. He met with no encouragement, and soon he was seen no more !

For many years there was not much progress in the island. The people were backward in regard to the cultivation of the land, etc. Then came a resident proprietor, who had a modern house built. He lived there most of the year, and things soon began to show signs of improvement. For instance, a road was made right round the island. When I first went to the island the people took no interest in flowers or vegetables. Now they win prizes at the Kirkwall Flower Shows.

M. C. R., in Oban Times.

THE POST OFFICE IN ORKNEY

230 YEARS OF MAIL CARRYING

“Orkney Mails” is the title of an exceedingly interesting article in the January number of “The Post Office Magazine.” The author is Mr Alex. Cameron, Head Postmaster at Kirkwall, who reviews the mail service in Orkney for the past 230 years. Transport pictures in the article range from the bullock cart of the old days to the modern mail ‘plane discharging at Kirkwall. Other pictures show the Shapinsay mail steamer s.s. lona under full steam and the South Isles mail steamer Hoy Head lying off Hoy Jetty while horse carts in the ebb are transferring goods from the mail steamer’s small boat.

The article is as follows: –

On most maps of Scotland the Orkneys are shown inset in the Moray Firth, but their position is almost 100 miles in a straight line north of that, and considerably more by the usual means of communication. They lie to the north of Caithness, separated from the Mainland by the Pentland Firth. Prior to the advent of steam there have been as many as twenty days without a mail crossing, and even the present mail steamer St Ola has failed on as many as five consecutive days to cross this turbulent stretch of water. When Captain Swanson will not cross with the St Ola, then you can rest assured that it is really “rough.”

When the first attempt in 1709 was made to establish a Post Office in Kirkwall the salary of the Postmaster was to be £5 a year, and the total cost each year for conveying the mail between Kirkwall and Wick via the islands of Burray and South Ronaldshay was to be £26.

In December of the same year the Town Council wished their Commissioner “to do all in his power to have a Post Office established in this toun upon the publict charges of the Government.” Their Commissioner was apparently not successful, for in 1714, when the Town Council wished to forward a Commission to the Convention of Royal Burghs and a letter to the Provost of Edinburgh, the Treasurer was instructed “to hire a post to go to Edinburgh.” The Treasurer was to “pay to the said Post twelve pounds Scots being the half of his wages with half-a-crown to buy shoes ere he goe of and other twelve pounds att his return.”

Long Lane to Edinboro’.

In 1713 it took a letter 8 days to reach Kirkwall from Edinburgh by the quickest route and sometimes 14 days “even when it was sent with despatch.” This proved awkward on at least two occasions when owing to the delay Kirkwall lost its vote in the return of a Member to Parliament. (Kirkwall was included with Dingwall, Tain, Dornoch, and Wick in what were termed the Northern Burghs).

Success ultimately must have been achieved, though they were rather unfortunate in their choice of one Postmaster, for it is recanted that in 1797 “Thomas Urqhart, Postmaster in the toun of Kirkwall and County of Orkney indicted at the instance of His Majesty’s Advocate of the crimes of Theft from the Post Office had falsehood and forgery,” was found guilty and sentenced to death. The sentence was duly carried out.

One hundred years ago the mail for the South was despatched from Kirkwall on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, by a foot post to Holm, a distance of six miles, where a boat with four men crossed this island to Water Sound whence by another boat with two men it was taken to South Ronaldshay. Through this island it was conveyed to the south end where yet another boat with four men took it over the Pentland Filth. Half-way across the Firth it was met by a boat from the South side. The mails and passengers, if any, were transferred in mid-channel and each boat turned on its homeward journey.

After sailing packets had been utilised a steamer service between Stromness, Kirkwall (Scapa) and Thurso (Scrabster) was introduced round about 1876, and in 1892 the present mail steamer St Ola, under Captain McBain, began her long period of service.

Era of the Air Mail

On Tuesday, 29th May, 1934, the first British inland air mail service was inaugurated between Inverness and Kirkwall, and since that date all first-class postal matter from the South for Orkney has been carried by plane without extra charge; a letter posted in London at 6.15 p.m. is delivered shortly after mid-day on the following day in Kirkwall.

It is interesting to note that the driver of Orkney’s first Post Office van to carry ail mails was Mr J. Barnett, a great-grandson of the first mail carrier ever employed in the Orkney Islands by the Postmaster General. The great-grandfather, Mr James Barnett, used to carry the entire Orkney South mail in one sack on his back along the route quoted above.

Kirkwall is the distributing centre for the Mainland and the North Isles, and the services are maintained by official van, steam, motor, and rowing boats. The mails for Rousay are conveyed by van to Evie, thence by motor boat to Rousay across a channel rendered dangerous by tides and which in 1893 was the scene of an accident when, owing to stormy weather, the mail boat capsized, two boat-men and four passengers losing their lives. An entry in the Head Office diary dated October 12, 1893, has a reference to the accident, and reads: “The Kirkwall to Rousay bag was washed ashore to-day. Newspapers loose in bag all in pulp. Letters tied in a bundle except outside letters were entire, ends slightly chafed. Letters duly delivered.”

The larger North Isles are served by steamer, which sails from Kirkwall four days a week in summer and three days a week in winter. North Ronaldshay, the most northerly island of the group, receives its mail via Sanday. It is conveyed across that island to Lady Shore whence a motor boat makes the crossing, and it says much for the courage and skill of the boatmen that their failures are so few.

The Isles

In common with all the channels between the islands there are always strong currents, and it is not often calm. One inland – Shapinsay – has a mail steamer all to itself with sailings so arranged that each day’s mail arriving by air is delivered in the island the same afternoon. The island of Copinsay, which has one lighthouse, one farm, and one school, receives its mail once a week by rowing boat, but receipt is governed largely by weather conditions. The mails for the South Isles are distributed from Stromness, whence they are conveyed by the steamer Hoy Head giving a four days a week service throughout the year. With the exception of Longhope (on the island of Hoy) where there is a proper pier, the mails for all the other calling places are taken by the steamer’s boat (which uses a sail and in addition to mails is generally well loaded with the merchandise required by the islanders) to the shore, where the Post Office takes charge. The place of call at Flotta depends entirely on weather conditions as to which of three landing places is used.

Then, are between 20 and 30 inhabited islands in the group, and on 16 of these there are Post Offices (46 in all). To visit each of these offices even once annually takes up rather more of one’s time than may be necessary to visit a similar number of offices on the south side of the Pentland Firth as so many of these visits necessitate overnight absences. The route generally followed is that taken by the mails, and the Department, recognising the prevailing weather conditions, have very thoughtfully provided the Head Postmaster with an oilskin coat and hat. It is often required.

The Surprise Visit

Almost every kind of transport is used except a railway train – steam, motor, sailing, and rowing boats; motor buses, motor cars and carts; and even the “flapper bracket” of a motor cycle, but the last is not recommended. On a recent visit to North Ronaldshay for survey and check of accounts the journey was made by aeroplane – time taken 30 minutes. (A direct steamer from Kirkwall takes three to four hours for this journey). On this occasion the element of surprise was undoubtedly maintained!

Extracted from the Orkney Herald, January 18th 1939.
© British Newspaper Archive

A GLIMPSE OF ROUSAY

Slowly the boat backed out from Evie Pier, as if unwilling to break the peace of that lovely day. Then around with a sweeping curve, and we were on our way to Rousay, with its romantic hills and valleys. Overhead the sun blazed out from a cloudless sky, and as we crossed Aikerness Bay I could see the sand gleaming white through sparkling, fresh waters. All around was basking in Mediterranean sunshine, while a soft cool of wind came stealing from the west. The run across did not take more than a quarter of an hour, and with high hopes for a good day I left the boat at Hullion Pier.

On reaching the main road I put on my clips, and readjusting my lunch bag on my back, set out to explore the island. Rousay is encircled by a road, the road that never begins or ends. The road leads one through varying pictures of scenic beauty, by the seashore and over heather-clad braes. Fisher’s crofts stand by its side and cattle browse over the bounding dykes, and nowhere does it lead one out of the beautiful peace of a prosperous and contented countryside. Here indeed may be found that rural prosperity which Goldsmith so pathetically describes in his “Deserted Village.” Along the road I set out, and soon was gifted with a lovely view of Rendall’s shores, with Gairsay nearer at hand. The picture, with Wyre in the foreground, held one spellbound with the peculiar fascination of islands. The intervening sea was a study in colour for any artist.

Trumland Village

I pedalled on, and soon reached the village of Trumland. Here stands one of Orkney’s finest examples of domestic architecture, Trumland House. It looks down on a village which reminds one of fairy tales in its studied neatness. A few houses, a pier, a grocer shop, and joiner shop form the nucleus of Rousay’s social life. Once past Trumland Village the scene embodies more of the spirit of solitude. A few scattered cottages lie along the roadside, while the heather looks blacker and more untamed. One cannot say that this part of Rousay is not beautiful, however. On the contrary, that every sense of loneliness seems to impart a charm which is beauty in itself. The quiet road, the sweeping bays and the neat crofts carry with them a sense of lovely dignity which finds its zenith in the rugged, brown hills.

And then, around at the back of the island is the loveliest district of all. Wild and beautiful, its most striking characteristic is its natural touch. Here the hand of man has never hewn with devastating axe the beauties of Nature. Rather has he added to them, thus making the country, if possible, more beautiful. By the time I had reached here my watch pointed to five o’clock in the afternoon, and my appetite pointed to that bag on my back. It had been one o’clock when I had set out, and ten miles on the Rousay road will whet anyone’s appetite even although they are given four hours to cover them. Accordingly I halted and, seated at the side of the road, I regaled myself with a few sandwiches and milk.

Rousay’s Happy Medium

Sitting there smoking my after-meal cigarette, I thought that here, if anywhere, was a land of peace and plenty. The countryside bore every trace of being well farmed, and at no house could be seen any of those terrible signs seen elsewhere, denoting poverty and bad management among the farmers. That day I had seen flourishing crops and well-fed cattle; I might almost say I had been in a land flowing with milk and honey. What is the reason for this obvious prosperity of Rousay? The answer seems to lie in the fact that the farms are only enough to keep one family comfortably. Certainly there are big farms in Rousay, but the majority can be worked on the family principle. This method makes all more or less comparatively well off. I do not mean that the Rousay crofter is a rich man, but he is nevertheless a man in a secure position. Rousay seems to have struck its happy medium of giving all enough, but none too much.

I got up and slowly made my way along until finally I was coming back again to the mainland side of the island. Here, in the northern end of the island is a district bereft of humanity and left to the ravages of the wild north wind. Coming round towards Westness we pass land which was one occupied by fishers’ crofts. Here, where now is only barren waste, there once lived a happy and contented little community which has now gone forever. What a page in Orkney’s internal history has been left unwritten!

In a short time I was back again at my starting point. I had seen one of Orkney’s most prosperous and most beautiful of islands, and I came away with mixed feelings. I will not here try to analyse these feelings, but I may mention that it is my opinion that the world needs to copy Rousay in its industry and at the same time in its preservation of the natural beauties of the country. P.

Extracted from the Orkney Herald, March 29th 1939
© British Newspaper Archive

Eynhallow has some strange beckoning power in that green face of springy turf, even to the most unromantic mind. Around its shores, the restless, heaving sea forever rolls, and to the north-west it looks out upon the vast, endless unbroken ocean. Small wonder that here first came the Culdee monks when on their great mission, and who can blame the simple sons of the sea for having created around it a web of mystery and inspiration. Here seems to rest the very spirit of Orkney’s Norse glory.

There lives in my memory a summer night of long ago, spent around its shores in the boat of two friends who were tending their creels. That was before the days when the Orkney fishermen had a motor in his boat; then a night spent in the open was no more to him than sleeping in bed at home. At that time Orkney lived on the sea and made ends meet by a little help from the land and the sea-shore. I can still see, in memory’s eye, those two lusty sons of the sea pulling their yawl to the grounds while the breathless night was beginning to brood on land and sea. I should not say night, because there was very little of that in the usual sense of the word, but the quietness, broken only by the steady rhythm of the oars and the swish of water under the boat’s prows, combined with that multi-coloured setting sun in the north-west to produce an effect equal to the fastness of the deepest sleep. Nature was going to rest. Not a breath stirred the surface of the sea as it glided outwards in the ebbing tide like some phantom ghost until it had its usual revel in Burgar Roost.

At last we neared Eynhallow, and, with skilful hands, the fishermen guided their small craft between its rocks on the one hand and Burgar Roost on the other. In a short time we were up with the first lot of crabs in a small bay almost at the headland on the north-west corner of the island, known as the Spur. There at varying distances from the main current of the tide I could see the bobbing corks and tarred ropes which betrayed the position of the creels. One of the men left the oars, and, having put on his oilskins to protect him from the dripping lines, took up his position in the stern of the boat and waited until his comrade brought her alongside the first buoy rope. Up and up, with strong arms he pulled that creel to the surface, bringing in it, a lovely lobster. “Ah! my bonnie boy, right gled are we tae see ye. May mair o’ yer kind come along this sam’ night.” Thus it was welcomed by his captor into the boat. And then the fisherman lapsed into silence – his innate silence produced by his continual contact with the big things of life, the earth, air, sea, and sky and Nature in her every mood.

After a short time the creels at that point had all been hauled and baited, and, noiselessly, the fishermen resumed their positions at the oars and began to pull to the north side of Eynhallow. Here the bold cliffs and deep caverns ring with the sound of lashing foam on a rough day. Beneath these black, austere masses of rocks, the sea lay as calm and peaceful as if it feared to break the silence of Nature. In a cave here, known as the Twenty Man Hole, the men of the surrounding districts used to find shelter from the ruthless raids of the press-gang whenever news of a raid was voiced abroad.

With few remarks the fishermen rounded their creels and pulled on around the Bowcheek, a dangerous headland when any sea is running, into Eynhallow’s only bay of importance, Ramnageo. Here is one of the most lovely bays in Orkney. The land terminates, here in cliffs, there in lovely round stones of all colours and sizes, while the water around is as clear as shining crystals. On the bottom one can see the long seaweed bending to the ever restless tide like willows in the wind. Many a good catch of lobsters has been won in this quiet haven, and it is still one of the best places for lobsters around the island.

In this quiet haven we lay for about two hours. The fishermen were only going to haul their creels twice that night, and consequently wished to give them a good long stand as they called it. Lying there in the stillness of the wide open spaces, a strange feeling came over me. What it was I cannot say, but there appeared to be some new element creeping into my soul, the call of the sea and the wide open spaces of those charming isles was singing its lovely notes in my ears, and who of Orkney blood can afford to forget that call that comes to every one of us in these wind-swept islands?

There was the moon casting its golden shades from behind a heather-clad hill in Rousay out upon Eynhallow and the ocean beyond. As I looked at that golden thread of light upon the glistening water, I realised that the Orcadian lobster fisher, poor though he may be, experiences incidents and sees Nature consummate in such a manner as to repay him for all his troubles. These alone keep him forever tied to his homely croft, his boat and fishing gear, and above all to the restless, roaming, heaving sea.

In scenes such as these has our race kindled that spirit which has made it predominant in many walks of life. These scenes have aroused poets to tune their songs, and in days gone by they captivated the roaming Norseman and induced him to apply his energies no longer to war but to the simple arts of peace.     –     P.

Extracted from the Orkney Herald, December 21st 1938

© British Newspaper Archive

William Craigie Flaws farmed the surrounding land at Hammerfield in Wasbister all his working life. Ploughing was done using a grey Fergie, and Ron Spence, Banchory, who used to spend summer holidays in the early 1950s with Bill and wife Mabel, his uncle and aunt, remembers a threshing machine being powered from the back of the tractor via a pulley and belt. Prior to that Bill’s corn box thresher and rollermill were powered by an Allan 3.5 hp 15 cwt lampstart oil engine, which was built in Aberdeen in 1916.

The engine was in very bad condition when it left the island due to the roof of the old barn in which it was housed being in bad repair, but after a lot of work Arnold managed to get it running again a couple of years later.

The story of Arnold’s trip north and the engine’s renovation featured in an article in Stationary Engine Magazine in 1983. The engine was also used as a prop in a television programme in 1987, and the story of that also featured in the same magazine. Recently Arnold decided to sell the engine, and it passed into the capable hands of enthusiast George Brown, of Coldstream, Berwickshire, who fully intends taking it to rallys and vintage shows in the near future.

George saw the Hammerfield page, and also Ron Spence’s ‘Hammerfield Memories’ on Rousay Remembered. He got in touch, offering the magazine articles and an array of photographs for use on the website – which I am so grateful to him for doing so, for it is such an interesting story.

DESTINATION – THE ORKNEY ISLES

Words – Brian Bowers: Motivation – Arnold Sayer: Photographs – John Harrison

An articulated wagon had jack-knifed on the black ice and blocked the main road – so John and I were travelling along narrow back lanes on an icy Sunday morning in mid November. We were on our way to Arnold’s, who must be crazy, because he intended taking his car and trailer and us to pick up an engine – in the Orkneys somewhere!

Further north the ice changed to rain, then sleet and finally snow which was three or four inches deep near Lanark. Luckily by the time we passed Glasgow the day changed – sunshine though still cold with not a trace of the white stuff. At Pitlochry all the fluid ran out of the car’s suspension at one side. Arnold got quite a bit down his neck as he crawled underneath to wedge a lump of fence post under the rear wheel mountings. Although the car was a little lop-sided it didn’t seem to slow Arnold down very much; his theory was that at 60 m.p.h. the mud flaps didn’t scrape along the road, (we cut them off with a hack-saw later).

We had reached Thurso about 9 o’clock and after a comfortable night went to the ferry terminal at Scrabster on a very cold, bright and breezy morning. By the time we had bought tickets (expensive), loaded up and sailed it was early afternoon and quite wet and windy. Arnold had never been afloat before and after taking his Quells, sat inside with his eyes shut, not daring to move. John was outside – up at the sharp end trying to photograph white water coming over the bows – by this time it was quite rough. I was beginning to feel rather pale myself when the boat turned the corner into Hoy sound and the waves became a lot flatter. With the oncoming dusk and the driving rain John was unable to photograph the ‘Old Man of Hoy’. I couldn’t even see it.

It was quite dark and pouring with rain when we landed at Stromness and after we had found somewhere to eat and walked about the narrow paved (wall to wall) streets of tall houses looking for accommodation we were all damp and cold. During a freezing night – we put our clothes on over our pyjamas – spent at the very top of an old house, listening to the wind and hail on the skylights, we were surprised, next morning, to see the sea only a few yards away on looking out of the window.

Tuesday – travelled across Mainland – which is the biggest island of Orkney, in bright sunlight interspersed with wickedly cold hail showers. Numerous small crofts, each with a few buildings, clusters of small conical oat-stacks and a few sheep. On the better land the grass was surprisingly green. Trees only grow in the shelter of houses.

At Tingwall jetty only 3 ducks were in evidence – it was far too stormy for Mansie Flaws, the ferry-man, to take us to Rousay. Nearby John discovered a smithy and joiners shop, both abandoned but full of gear and tools.

We cruised around noticing a defunct Lister L and a small horizontal Crossley – minus cylinder head. There seemed to be quite a lot of obsolete machinery behind every croft. Arnold phoned the ferryman whenever we passed a phone box but the answer was always the same ‘Its no weather for boats’.

We couldn’t find anywhere to stay in Kirkwall but eventually located a very superior farmhouse for B and B, a couple of miles away, after wandering about a dark and deserted countryside. Spotted a single cylinder Turner diesel outside one place where we stopped to ask the way. Electric blankets and radiators in the bedroom-luxury!

On Wednesday a white world greeted us when looking out. It was bright and windy with the odd snow showers. We’d had a grand ‘crack’ with the farmer the previous night – discussing sheep prices etc. (John and I are farmers) and finally got down to engines. He showed us an old blow-lamp, which Arnold was sure had come from a Campbell engine (made in Halifax) and promised to let us see it.

His son accompanied us and in an old barn, which the farmer had just acquired, was a single fly wheel, lamp-start Campbell – complete and free and in fair condition. There was a rivetted patch on the water jacket and horizontal fly ball governors. It was 5½ feet long and maybe 5 or 6 h.p.

We also visited a local scrap tip to see a big Blackstone portable about 20-25 h.p. which had been working until a few years ago driving a stone crusher in a local quarry. All the brass bearings etc. were missing.

Returning to Tingwall jetty Arnold rang Mansie yet again and the message was “maybe I’ll come after dinner if the wind gets no worse”.

Just after 2 o’clock things really started moving. Arnold, who had been walking up and down impatiently – a bit like King Canute – or was it Napoleon?, gazing at the island of Rousay which was only about three quarters of a mile away, spotted Mansie’ s boat battling through the waves towards us. Quite a lot of his confidence evaporated when he saw how small it was and heard that we couldn’t take the car and trailer over; they were to have been loaded onto a flat bottomed barge and towed behind the ferryboat.

Despite vicious hail squalls we embarked and ‘corkscrewed’ over to Rousay. It only took half an hour and Arnold was too busy hanging on to feel sick.

Deposited on the shore of our freezing deserted island as heavy rain and darkness fell we were rescued by an inquisitive native who kindly offered us a lift to the pub in return for news of what we were up to. The landlord made us very welcome, despite the wreckers bar strapped to John’s case and the large adjustable spanner sticking out of my hold-all; these were the only tools we could carry.

After a bite to eat he fixed us up with a car. As there is only 12 miles of road on Rousay no car has a tax disc or M.O.T. you can imagine the state of most vehicles. The ferryman always rings up whenever he is bringing a policeman over to the island.

Finally arriving at our destination we introduced ourselves at the cottage before squelching round the back of a tumbledown barn to inspect our quarry by torchlight.

It was an Allen engine – but in terrible state. The parts of the roof that weren’t missing had been leaking for years and the whole engine was covered with thick green mould. The two steel pulleys, one on either side of the twin fly wheels (had it been used as a lay-shaft?), were absolutely rusted through; I could pull bits off quite easily. And a lot was missing! Frantic searching revealed the piston and con-rod on an old workbench and the sideshaft, complete with fly ball governors and valve rocker arms underneath it. We also uncovered the heat shield and the blowlamp. Concentrated excavation produced both bronze big end bearings and 2 bolts, a piston ring and sundry bits and pieces which looked as though they might belong. Only the hot bulb was missing.

Whilst Arnold negotiated with the elderly owner and a neighbouring crofter, John and I attacked the brute with all our available tools – both of them! We found a big iron bar and a hacksaw which was nearly as old and as blunt as the engine. It took a long and uncomfortable time to cut through and twist off the exhaust and water pipes. The nuts holding the engine bed down came off surprisingly easily but as a fillet of cement had been run around the base after the engine had been bolted down we still couldn’t shift it. At last we managed to get the big iron bar under a corner of the engine base and lever the whole thing loose.

By the time John and I had done all the hard work Arnold arrived back with Alistair, a tractor with a loader and another tractor pulling a trailer.

Further demolishing the decrepit end of the engine house the four of us quickly dragged the Allen outside and loaded it on to the trailer. Our friend promised to deliver it to the quayside, about 4 miles distant, in time to catch the 9 o’clock steamer.

Loading all the ancillary bits of the Allen into the car boot we drove to another farm, got another farmer out of his house, and loaded a Lister 3 h.p., a Wolseley 1½ and 3 old car engines onto another trailer and took this down to the quayside.

Crawling back to the pub well after midnight we snatched a few hours sleep, and had a hurried breakfast before returning and trying, unsuccessfully, to find the missing hot bulb. Then down to the quay-side to supervise loading in the cold and wet again. All the locals kept telling us about the engines they used to own and had disposed of by chucking over the nearest cliff.

Arnold returned via the small ferry while John and I stayed on the weekly steamer with the engines. We enjoyed a leisurely trip, calling at three small island jetties and watching sheep, and coal and allsorts being loaded and unloaded. Arnold’ s trip was shorter and a lot wetter – he also was chased by 3 very angry geese. Upon reuniting at Kirkwall we carefully overloaded our trailer and returning to Stromness, found some warmer ‘digs’.

Friday started stormily and got steadily worse. Departure time for the car ferry was postponed to 9 then 10 then 12 o’clock and finally abandoned. We sat in the car in the rain, with the engine running and the heater on, thinking up excuses to placate our wives. We all HAVE to be home by Saturday. We spent most of Friday browsing round a second-hand book shop and discovered a pile of old farming journals – the ‘Scottish Farmer’ and the ‘North British Agriculturalist’, dated 1890 to 1920. Several engines were advertised and those pictured included Annan, Blackstone, Crossley, Tangye, Powell, Detroit, Campbell and verticals Fairbanks-Morse, Lister, Victoria and Keighley Imperial. I have one of the last mentioned. Arnold bought several lighting plant and electrical manuals as well.

On Saturday we were up at 6 – embarked at 7 and sailed away into a sunlit dawn at 8 o’clock. A very pleasant crossing through Scapa Flow where we saw some porpoises (or dolphins)? Arnold is an experienced sailor now and stayed on deck with us.

We all enjoyed our visit to Orkney and would like to return – in summer. Although we didn’t travel many miles on the island we used a fair drop of petrol (at nearly £2 per gallon) just to keep warm. Driving off the ferry at Scrabster we burst a tyre but that didn’t delay us for long – could we be home by night? But 30 miles on the clutch packed up, fortunately next to the only phone box for miles. Frantic phoning produced a profane but extremely helpful Scots mechanic who towed us back to his garage. Although he couldn’t fix the clutch until Monday he managed to fix us up with a hired car. So after another dreary wait we were on our way again just after nightfall.

John and I got home about 5 a.m. on Sunday morning. If you are going to be late – be very late – then relief cancels out the annoyance caused. The only thing Arnold managed to bring back with him was the brass oiler, – and he faces the prospect of returning to collect his car and trailer. Would we do it again? Yes!

STATIONARY ENGINE MAGAZINE

May 1983

Readers’ Miscellania

Remember the article – DESTINATION THE ORKNEY ISLES, well Brian Bowers has a little news concerning the Allan oil engine that was the prize of that marathon expedition. …..’Our wives have agreed that the engine that took us so long to recover, needs a lot of time and effort spending on it just to make it good enough for the scrapheap! It is an Allan of Aberdeen, number 2849, circa 1916, about a 4 h.p. version with 32″ diameter flywheels. Arnold Sayer only took a couple of hours to dismantle it, and although all the studs were corroded, they just unscrewed with a pair of mole grips – they must have been assembled with grease on the threads many years ago. The substantial gudgeon pin is 1¾” diameter, and like all the bearings, a perfect fit in its brass bush. Piston diameter is 4¾”, perhaps Amanco rings will fit?

The exhaust pot and heat shroud are o.k. and even the blowlamp can be made to work with a Iittle time and solder.

Our biggest problem is the hot-bulb – or rather lack of one. Can anyone either, sell or lend us one, even the latter would greatly assist as we won’t be able to prove our wives wrong unless we can restore the engine to running order!

We are certain that a photograph of this engine, in running order, will appear in this magazine, but not for a while!’

GENERATING FOR GRENADA

Stationary Engine Magazine

March 1987

Arnold Sayer tells how his restored Allan oil engine came to be used in the ‘Bulman’ TV series.

[‘Bulman’ was a crime drama series, principally written and created by Murray Smith, that first broadcast on ITV on 5 June 1985. The series, featuring retired ex-cop George Bulman (Don Henderson) and his assistant Lucy McGinty (Siobhan Redmond). Produced by Granada Television, Bulman ran for two series, with the final episode broadcasting on 8 August 1987.]

It all began with a telephone call from Granada Television to Tim Holt ‘manager’ of Cumbria Steam & Vintage Vehicle Society. Granada wanted to know if anyone had an antique generating plant which could be used in a TV programme. Tim gave them my telephone number and an appointment was made for a TV representative to view my engines and dynamos.

The generating set chosen comprised a 1916 lampstart Allan driving a 1900 open wound Crompton dynamo. The plant would be used in one episode of the “Bulman” detective series, with filming taking place at Downham Hall near Clitheroe, the home of Lord Clitheroe. It would be my duty to deliver the plant to the site and set it up ready for filming, then return the following day to show the actors how to start the engine.

On arrival at Downham Hall next morning I met the Director, film crew and other people involved with the filming. Then the actors arrived and I showed them how to start the Allan. I had to explain how the hot-bulb required heating with a blowlamp for ten minutes before it would start. After a short discussion it was decided not to use the blowlamp during filming as the roar of the lamp would drown any dialogue.

When the cameras eventually started rolling I had to bring the engine to the required temperature, switch off the blowlamp and nip quickly out of sight. I imagined it would be somewhat of a dicey operation because there would be a time lag while the actors spoke their lines. Any time lag would cool the hot-bulb, and I had visions of the engine refusing to start. All those expensive cameras working and twenty people involved, delays would be costly. I was worrying needlessly because the engine only failed once in fifteen starts. Bulman handled the starting handle very well and gave the impression he had been starting engines all his life.

Filming began at 11am and finished around 5pm. Although I spent about twenty hours on a project for a scene that will probably last less than a minute on the TV screen, however, I enjoyed the experience and met some interesting and competent people. The episode of “Bulman” may have appeared by the time you read this as it was destined for this winter’s series. If it hasn’t appeared, be sure to look out for it.

The photo above was taken in early 2019 when George Brown [on the right] travelled down to Kirkby Stephen in Cumbria to collect the engine from Arnold Sayer [second left]. Also in the picture are Neville Beaty and Charles Hamilton, who assisted George in loading the engine onto the trailer for transportation to its new home in Berwickshire.

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[Again, my thanks to George Brown for sharing the story of this well-travelled engine.]

Rousay Diamond and Silver Wedding Anniversaries

Celebrating their Diamond and Silver Wedding anniversaries in Rousay on February 27th 1939 –
Magnus and Helen Craigie, and their son Alexander and his wife Rose.

Magnus Craigie, Falquoy, later Ploverha’, was born on April 24th 1856, the son of Alexander Craigie, Whoam later Falquoy, and Ann Murray, Tofts, Quandale. At Holm on February 27th 1879 he married Helen Cooper, born on February 7th 1859 at Sound, Egilsay, daughter of David Cooper and Douglas Craigie. Her name was spelled Ellen Couper on the marriage certificate, and she was living at Newbigging, Holm, at the time. The ceremony was carried out by the Rev Charles Runcieman, and the witnesses were James B. Craigie, and Margaret Manson.

Magnus and Helen raised a family of 13 children: Alexander was born at Newbigging, Holm on the afternoon of April 17th 1879; Maggie Ann was born on May 17th 1880 when the family were living at Claybank, Wasbister – where the rest of her siblings were born: Magnus, on August 4th 1881; Betsy, on August 20th 1882; Wilhelmina Logie, on August 25th 1883; Clara, on May 5th 1885; James, on July 18th 1886; Mary Jessie Inkster, on July 22nd 1887; David, on August 9th 1888; John, on February 18th 1890; Lily, on May 11th 1891; Alice Gibson, on October 9th 1893; and Helen Mary, who was born on August 5th 1898 after the family moved the short distance to Ploverha’.

Alexander Craigie was a 34 year old ploughman living at Furse when he married Rose Ida Violet Hourston Gibson on February 27th 1914. She was born in 1885, the daughter of farmer David Gibson, Hullion, and Ann Craigie Sinclair, Newhouse. The ceremony at Hullion was performed by the Rev. Alexander Spark, and witnessed by the groom’s brother James Craigie, and cousin Sarah Sinclair Craigie.

Extremes of longevity existed in the family: Maggie Ann lived to the age of 108; Lily, 101; Helen, 95; Magnus, 90; Alexander, 85; Alice, 80; David, 70; and Wilhelmina, 63. Their brother John was 29 years of age when he died in 1917, and is remembered on the Rousay war memorial. Mary Jessie died at the age of 2, and Betsy died at birth.

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[My thanks to Muriel Marwick, Innister, for bringing this cutting from The Orcadian
to my attention for inclusion on the website.]

A Rousay Family
in an old
Australian Visitors’ Book

by John Marwick

Published in the Newsletter of the
Orkney Family History Society,
Issue No 62, June 2012

Some of you may be familiar with the book Rousay Roots which contains the histories of most of the old families of the Parish of Rousay. It was researched and written by my uncle Robert C Marwick (member 34) and he later put all the details online at www.rousayroots.com together with a wealth of other information. I now maintain the website on behalf of Robert.

I receive several email queries through the Rousay Roots website, usually from people of Rousay descent who are seeking further details about their roots, or who have family information or old photos which they would like to be added to the website. However, last year I received a query from a Rolf Lunsmann in Sydney, Australia for an unusual and fascinating reason. Rolf, who has no Orkney connection himself, was researching people who had signed a Visitors’ Book in a house on the outskirts of Sydney. The Visitors’ Book covered the period 1894 to 1945, and during his research Rolf established that one visiting family had a Rousay background.

A brief history of the house, the Visitors’ Book and Rolf’s research –

In all, the book includes the names of over 300 individual visitors. Until recently Rolf knew little about the people represented, but he then took on the formidable task of identifying them all and trying to put together at least some biographical information on each of them. Doing so seemed to bring the book to life and it helped to enliven the history of the house. After more than 12 months’ work, primarily using internet based resources and a few trips to the State Library of NSW, he had identified about 200 people and had at least some information about the majority of those 200. Practically all the visitors to Yangoora were prominent members of Sydney society.

The Rousay background –

Some of the visitors to Yangoora included the wife and children of a Dr John Gibson, although not, apparently, Dr Gibson himself. Rolf established, with some help from Rousay Roots, that Dr John Gibson was born in Rousay in 1856 and his wife Isabella Gibson (ms Gibson) was also born in Rousay in 1856. (Their daughter Janet Winifred Gibson was born in Edinburgh in 1887 and son Alfred John Gibson was born in Edinburgh in 1888.) This family went to Australia in 1889. Dr John Gibson became a prominent member of Sydney society, as you will see from his obituary below.

It would appear from the Visitors’ Book that Isabella Gibson and Marion Simpson were close friends. Alfred John Gibson, his wife Ailsie Talbot and their eldest child Ailsie Jean Talbot Gibson, were also regular visitors to Yangoora.

Tribute to Dr John Gibson from the British Medical Journal, 23 July 1910, kindly provided by Rolf Lunsmann –

(From our Special Correspondent)

Death of Dr John Gibson

Dr John Gibson who practised at Windsor, New South Wales for the past twenty two years died from chronic Bright’s disease and uraemia off the coast of New Guinea during a cruise for the benefit of his health on 5th May. He was in his 54th year. He was born in the Orkney Islands on 17 November 1857. He entered the University of Edinburgh, where he studied for two years in the Faculty of Arts. He then proceeded to the study of medicine, and after a distinguished career graduated MB, CM in 1879. He at once proceeded to Evie in the Orkney Islands where he engaged in private practice. He was there appointed medical officer to the parochial board of the parish of Rousay and Egilshay.

After six and a half years’ residence there he resigned his position and returned to the University of Edinburgh where he entered on special studies in pathology and bacteriology. There Professor Greenfield secured his assistance in carrying on some original researches on behalf of the Fishery Board of Scotland. For two years he held the position of second assistant in the pathological department under Professor Greenfield, and during that time he prosecuted some researches on waxy and hyaline degeneration, and for his thesis on this subject he received a gold medal on graduating MD in 1887.

He came to Sydney in 1888, and was appointed acting house-surgeon at the Prince Alfred Hospital, Sydney. This position he resigned after three months to take up private practice at Windsor, where he resided for the rest of his life. At Windsor he was appointed honorary medical officer to the Hawkesbury Benevolent Asylum and Hospital, and also Government medical officer for the Windsor district; both these appointments he held at the time of his death. For some years after he went to Windsor he did a good deal of pathological work, especially microscopic examinations of specimens of cancer and tuberculosis in cattle for the New South Wales Government. At the Intercolonial Medical Congress in Sydney in 1892 he read a paper on certain worm nests or worm knots occurring in the cellular tissue of the brisket of cattle. The worm nests contained parasitic worms and filaria ova; these filaria have subsequently been named Filaria Gibsoni. In 1897 he was appointed medical officer to the Hawkesbury Agricultural College, a position which he held up to the time of his death. He laboured hard on behalf of the Hawkesbury Benevolent Asylum and Hospital, but he did not live to see the completion of the new buildings, for the erection of which he helped very largely to secure the necessary funds. The committee and subscribers of the Benevolent Asylum and Hospital, in recognition of his distinguished services, elected him President in 1909.

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John Marwick, the writer of this article, is a 1st cousin 3 times removed of Dr John Gibson.

I received a query from DeAnne Valentin who lives in Kamloops, a south-central city in British Columbia. She had been researching her husband’s family history and became particularly interested in one of her ancestors, a Jean-Baptiste Lanor.

Jean-Baptiste Lanor turned up in Kamloops some time before 1868 accompanied by his children, but no wife. Very little was known about him prior to then except that he was from northern British Columbia and had worked there for the Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) for several years. He had married in the 1840s, but as the church didn’t exist in that part of British Columbia in those days, the marriage would have been what the Canadians termed a “Country Marriage”, probably to a First Nation Canadian (aboriginal/indigenous) or to a person of First Nation Descent. It was assumed that Jean-Baptiste’s wife had died and he had left for Kamloops after her death. Her name is not known.

At that time, Kamloops was a village or a fort and was originally called Fort Thompson after its location on the Thompson river, before there was a change of name to Fort Kamloops.

According to Canadian census records for the children, their father, Jean-Baptiste Lanar, was born in Scotland and their mother, no name given, was born in British Columbia.

It struck DeAnne that it was unusual for a Scotsman to be named Jean-Baptiste – until she discovered that it was fairly common in British Columbia for a man with the English name John to become Jean or Jean-Baptiste owing to the strong French influence in the area.

Deanne then searched a British Columbia archives site and found a baptism record for John-Baptist Lanor. He was baptised on 28 Dec 1868 and his birth was listed as 1813. His father was Peter Leonard and his mother was Jane Louttit. The record also indicated that John was a native of Hortenez Island, which, after a process of elimination, was assumed to be a phonetic version of Orkney.

She also found a marriage record for the same date (28 Dec 1868) for J Baptiste-Lanor and Marguerite Silortssa. The groom’s birthplace was shown as Hockney Island and the father was Peter Lanor.

The conclusion was that Jean-Baptiste Lanor (or whoever) had been born in Orkney, and after further research of Orkney records it was also concluded that Jean-Baptiste Lanor began life as John Leonard, born on 15 May 1811 in Rousay to parents Peter Leonard and Janet Louttit!

It might seem unusual that Jean-Baptiste was baptised and married on the same day. But research indicates that the church in British Columbia did not recognise the Country Marriages which were common among European men and First Nation women, and the church priests were travelling round the various villages and forts having a “blitz” on baptisms and marriages, so the marriages could be recognised by the church. Most of these proper marriages took place around 1868.

Since Helen Leonard is described as a pauper in the censuses, it seems highly unlikely that she received any money from her husband, who after all was supporting another family in Canada. John Leonard does not appear in any Scottish census and there is no indication that he ever made a return visit to Orkney or had any contact with his wife Helen.

Some of John Leonard’s children from his first Canadian marriage settled in Kamloops and he had several children with his third wife Marguerite, most of whom also settled in Kamloops. Leonard became a well known name in the area.

John Leonard drowned in the Thompson River in Kamloops on the 28th December, 1868. His widow Marguerite had children with another man in 1873, 1877 and 1880 and married this man in 1879.

John Leonard’s pattern of behaviour was somewhat unusual as he was married with children when he was recruited by the HBC. There were some other married recruits but the vast majority were young single men, generally aged between 18 and 25. Like John Leonard, several of the recruits remained in Canada but most of the men returned to Orkney at the end of their (standard 5 year) contracts. Some of those who returned to Orkney had also married First Nation women, only to up and leave them and their children when they left Canada.

The HBC has extensive archives (now a Canadian national treasure) which are housed in Winnipeg. It is almost impossible to research the archives from a distance as the HBC does not provide assistance and a visit to Winnipeg is recommended or the hire of a professional researcher – both of which are expensive. However, the archives are very gradually being made available online. The archives include a biographical profile of each employee and there is an online profile of John Leonard, although it is very vague. According to the HBC profile he entered service c1840 in Montreal, where the HBC headquarters were located at that time. But another British Columbia archive suggests that he was recruited in 1834 in Stromness (where most Orkney men were recruited). His working life was spent as a Middleman in northern British Columbia in the Thompson River district and in New Caledonia. He left the HBC’s service in 1862.

If you are interested in discovering more about John Leonard and his family just Google John Leonard, Settler in British Columbia to view the extensive site managed by DeAnne Valentin.

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My thanks to John Marwick for submitting these articles for inclusion here –
and to Orkney Family History Society for the use of their images.

Orkney Ghost in a New Zealand Garden

[written in 1959 by an anonymous author]

Just this week I was given the loan of one of those fat weekly illustrated papers which they go in for in New Zealand and Australia. This one, lent to me by Mr R O Watson, Kirkwall, was “The Weekly News” of Auckland, New Zealand – full of bright little articles, pictures, cartoons and so on.

Quite naturally, being an expert gardener, the article which had caught Mr Watson’s eye was headed “Friendly ghost in my garden”. What was even more interesting was that it had a very direct reference to Orkney.

Speaking of cleaning up her garden in autumn, the writer, who signs herself merely Katherine, says, “Often I think of the woman who toiled, nearly a century ago, to carve this garden out of a windswept hillside. For over 23 years she has been beside me – a friendly ghost.

In 1823, away in the Orkney islands, she was born Betsy Marwick, and at the age of 19 she was married there to Hugh Yorston. With six children the couple emigrated in the ‘Alpine’, arriving at Dunedin in 1859.”

The article describes how after arriving the family walked over the hills to Taieri Ferry where they stayed in the hotel before taking the farm high on the hills.

“The father and boys carried the family’s possessions, and the new baby, Richard, born on the voyage, was looked after by the pioneer mother and daughters. Though she lived till she was 83,” the article says, “the mother never again went to Dunedin.”

After twenty years of pioneering the family eventually moved to the building which had first sheltered them, the Ferry Hotel, which they converted to a dwelling-house.

The article concludes, “A semi-circle of huge pines and macrocarpa trees, steadfast against south-west storms, are a living memorial to Mrs Yorston, who planted them long ago. How strange the everlasting green bush in the gully in front of the house and the white waving snow grass on the hilltops must have looked to eyes accustomed to the bleak Orkneys and what a wonderful country where my garden ghost could plant and grow as many trees as she wished.”

Mr Watson said when giving me the magazine that it would be interesting to see if this Yorston family could be traced. He had an idea that they might have come from Rousay.

Shortly afterwards I met Dr Hugh Marwick who read the article with great interest, and the mystery was solved. Hugh Yorston was Dr Marwick’s grand-uncle. Before going to New Zealand he had been to the Nor’ Wast but he returned from there and married Betsy Marwick who, Dr Marwick says, was a cousin on his father’s side of the family. After raising a family they decided to emigrate but the sea chest that Hugh Yorston had had with him in the Nor’ Wast was found to be too big to take with them and it was left here in Orkney. It is still in Dr Marwick’s house at Alton, Kirkwall.

This document comes from the Tommy Gibson Collection.

The Orkneys and Shetland; Their Past & Present State

by

John R. Tudor  –  London, 1883

CHAPTER XXVII.

[Section covering Gairsay, Wyre, Egilsay, Rousay, & Eynhallow]

A small steamer, the Lizzie Burroughs, plies regularly between Rousay and Kirkwall, calling at Egilsay, Veira, Gairsay, and several places on the east side of the West Mainland. As, however, her head-quarters are in Rousay, she is, on her regular trips, of no service to the tourist who wishes to return to Kirkwall the same evening after visiting the three smaller islands. One day in every week she is generally off the passage and remains at either Sourin or Trumland, and persons anxious to visit Egilsay and the other two small islands, might arrange to hire her for the day. The only place, at present, in Rousay where lodgings can be obtained, is at Mr. Reid’s, at Sourin. [Thomas Balfour Reid was Inspector of Poor and the island’s Registrar. He lived at Old School with his wife Betsy]. A sailing-boat however can always be got in Kirkwall, and if tides suit Egilsay, Veira, and Gairsay might all be visited in the course of a long summer day.

GAIRSAY

The chief object of interest in this island is the old mansion house of the Craigies, now turned into a farmhouse, situated on the western side of the island.

It is said to have been erected by that William Craigie whose marriage to Mrs. Buchanan of Sandside in 1690 has already been referred to.

The house consists of buildings on the north, east, and south sides of a court with a rather ornate curtain wall, loop-holed for musketry, containing the entrance. Outside are the ruins of the chapel.

No traces have as yet been found of the big drinking-hall said to have been erected by Swein. It was probably like the Icelandic sketlas, composed chiefly of wood. On the narrow isthmus which connects the promontory known as the Hen with the island, is a grass-grown tumulus, which may or may not cover the remains of a broch or later building. The situation is an admirable one for a Viking station, as, in case of bad weather coming on, the boats had only to be taken from one side to the other round the Hen to ensure smooth water, and might even, if necessity compelled, be dragged across the isthmus. The name of Swine, applied to the holm on the east side of the island, is clearly a misnomer, and should be Swein. A very pretty view of the Northern Orcadian archipelago is to be got from the top of the little conical hill which constitutes the greater part of the island.

VEIRA

Veira, Weir, or Wyre, the Vigr of Norse days, is a peculiarly shaped island, that from Rousay appears not unlike some huge cetacean lying on the water.

The grass-grown mound, which is now all that remains of Kolbein Hruga’s fortalice, locally called Cobbe Row’s Castle, is about a quarter of a mile from the shore on the west side of the island, where the ferry crosses from close to the Established Church in Rousay. According to Wallace’s description it must have been of no great size, as he says ” It is Trenched about, of it nothing now remains, but the first Floor, It is a perfect Square the walls eight feet thick, strongly built, and cemented with Lime, the breadth or length within Walls not being above ten foot, having a large Door or Slit for the Window.”

The fosse or ditch is still to be traced. About thirty yards or so from the mound is the old church, now roofless, which, as Dryden is of opinion that it was erected in the twelfth or thirteenth century, may have been built by Kolbein Hruga, or his son, Bishop Bjarni.

It consists of nave and chancel, of which the nave measures 19 ft. 2 in. by 12 ft. 10 in. The door is at the west, and “is 2 ft. 6 in. wide at the bottom, with a semicircular head, the feet of which are set back at the impost 2½ in. at each side. This mode of fastening the arch on was probably done to give a support to the centre on which the arch was built. The jambs are parallel, 3 ft. 2 in. thick, and having no rebate for doors, nor any traces of there having been one. There is no cap. The impost is 4 ft. 11 in. above original stone sill.” Such is the technical description. The semicircular head may be described, for the non-technical visitor, as being composed of a number of thin slaty stones set on edge, and radiating like the spokes of a wheel. An arch, with a like semicircular head, leads into the chancel, 7 ft. 10 in. by 7 ft. 2 in.

All the windows are on the south side, two in the nave and one in the chancel. Only one of those in the nave is supposed to be original, and it is flat-headed, 1 ft. 10 in. by 8 in., and splays inwards to a width of 2 ft. 3 in. The one in the chancel, supposed to have been round-headed, is 2 ft. 7 in. by 11 in., and splays inwards to a width of 2 ft. There is no trace of ambry, altar, or altar place. In the chartulary of the Monastery of Munkalif, near Bergen, is preserved a deed, by which Bishop Bjarni gave to the monastery certain property known as Holand, near Dalsfiord, north of Bergen, in order to provide masses “for the souls of his father, his mother, his brother, his relations, and friends,” a tolerably comprehensive list. According to Barry, the churchyard of Veira contains graves of an extraordinary length, but, when the writer was there, it was in the usual disgraceful state common to Orcadian “bone-yards,” so much so, that even the boatman who had ferried him across commented on it.

EGILSAY

Crossing over from Sourin, on the eastern side of Rousay, you land at Shelting, which is about a quarter of a mile from the church. On your road to the church you pass a green knoll on which local tradition says Jarl Magnus was executed. The church consists of chancel, nave and circular tower, access to which is from the nave. Internally the nave measures 29 ft. 9 in. by 15 ft. 6 in., entrance to which is by two doorways facing each other on the north and south sides, each having a round arched head, and being 2 ft. 6 in. in width. On the north and south sides are windows, each 3 ft. 3 in. high, and 8½ in. wide, splaying inwards to a width of 2 ft. 9 in. On the south side are also two other windows, not original.

The chancel is 14 ft. 11 in. by 9 ft. 5½ in., and is roofed with a plain barrel vault, of which the semicircular chancel arch forms part. There was no window at the east, and but one on the north, and another on the south sides, each semi-circular headed, 1 ft. 7½ in. by 11 in., and splaying inwards to 2 ft. 1 in.

Over the vault of the chancel is a chamber entered by a doorway semicircular headed, 6 ft. 4 in. by 2 ft. 2 in. above the chancel arch. This chamber is lighted by a flat-headed window in the east end, 1 ft. 6 in. in height, and is called by the natives the “grief-house,” from some idea that it was used as a prison.

Each gable was corbie stepped, and from the drawing in Hibbert, the roofs seem to have been formed either of stone slabs, or of very coarse slates. The feature of the building is, however, the round tower, 14 ft. 10½  in. in diameter, external measurement, at the ground, and 7 ft. 8 in. internally. The entrance is by a semicircular headed doorway from the nave 2 ft. 5 in. wide. At present the tower is 48 ft. in height, and 15 ft. is said to have been removed many years back. In Hibbert’s sketch it is surmounted by a conical cap. In its original condition the tower is supposed to have had four chambers, the fourth of which was lighted by four windows facing the cardinal points; below these, on the east side, is a flat-headed opening, and below this again a semicircular headed opening 4 ft. 1 in. high by 1 ft. 9 in. wide. There are also small windows on the second and fourth stories looking north, and a modern one near the ground on the south side. In addition, above the door leading from the nave 16 ft. 3 in. from the floor, is an arched opening 5 ft. 4 in. high by 2 ft. 3 in. wide. All the windows and the north doorway have now, for preservation, been built up, and an iron gate has been placed in the south door, the key of which is kept at North Toft farmhouse.

The churchyard is surrounded by a good modern wall, and is a marvel of neatness for the Orkneys. The church itself has been used for service within the present century. What is the date, at which this almost unique church was built, will probably be never satisfactorily settled. Munch is of opinion that the Norsemen found a church here, and joining the Celtic or Gaelic word for a church, eaglais (derived from ecclesia) to the Norse ey, an island, made Egilsey. Others, again, Mr. Karl Blind amongst them, are of opinion, that the Egils is taken from the genitive of the Teutonic and Scandinavian name Egil. There is, by the way, an Egilsay in Shetland, in which, so far as the writer is aware, no trace of a church has ever been found. Assuming Munch to be correct, and that this is the original church, and not a second building erected on the site of the first, we should have to go back to the ninth century at least, if not earlier.

The round tower has made many people assign it a Celtic origin, but, after weighing the pros and cons both for Celtic and Norse buildings, Dryden is of opinion that it was built after the Irish model shortly after the re-conversion of the islands to Christianity in 998. Be the date of its erection what it may, when standing by the old walls covered with the marks of a hoar antiquity in the grey and yellow lichens which give such a variegated appearance to the whole building, and especially to the tower, you cannot help letting your thoughts go back to that 16th of April, 1115, when the bloody tragedy was being enacted on the green mound between here and the beach. You see Magnus, surrounded by his followers, watching Hakon’s vessels crossing from Wyre Sound into Howa Sound; then, the mass being celebrated in fear and trembling by the priests of the church; the execution itself; and, finally, when the drink had begun to tell on Hakon, Thora, mother of the murdered one, imploring his murderer to allow her to give his victim Christian sepulture.

ROUSAY 

This, the Hrolfsey of the Saga may be roughly described as a circular island, from five to six miles in diameter. On its eastern, southern, and south-western shores it slopes gently to the sea, whilst from Scabra Head round to Faraclett, or the Knee of Rousay, as it is called on the chart, with the exception of a small portion of the bay of Saviskaill, the coast is more or less precipitous. On the south-east side a range of hills, of which Blotchinfield (811 feet) and Knitchenfield (732 feet) are the highest points, runs from a little to the west of Sourin to nearly above Westness; north of this again a valley, of which Muckle Water (322 feet) is nearly the summit, runs across the island; north of which is another hill range, of which the pointed peak of Kierfea (762 feet) is the highest point [and pictured below].

One special peculiarity about the Rousay Hills is the terraced outline of their slopes. This is very marked above Westness and again on Kierfea. Following up the valley down which the Sourin Burn flows from Muckle Water, you come on the southern side of the burn to the Goukheads, a very rough bit of broken-up bog ground overgrown with heather, and fissured with numerous holes, which, to save a sprained ankle or worse, necessitate very careful walking. This is the habitat of the Pyrola Rotundifolia, and is said to be the only spot in the Orkneys where this flower, known in the island as the ” Round-leaved Winter Green,” is to be found. On a line between the eastern end of Muckle Water and the top of Blotchinfield is a curious ridge called the Camp of Jupiter Fring, some 600 yards long by 40 or 50 broad, and having very steep scarped sides on its northern and southern sides. How it came by this name no one knows ; Wallace referred to it two hundred years ago, and seemed to think the name had been given by some dominie from Jupiter Feriens on account of its being frequented by Jove’s bird. From the camp to the summit of Blotchinfield is a very short distance, and the view from the top, in clear weather, must be very fine. It is said that, not only Fair Isle, but even Foula has been seen at times from either Blotchinfield or Kierfea.

From the top of Blotchinfield a course, a little to the south of west, will bring you to Westness, the gardens of which, planted almost entirely by the late Dr. Traill of Woodwick, a former proprietor of the island, are the most beautiful thing of their kind in the group. Standing in them, on a warm summer’s day, when a shower has brought out the full fragrance from tree and plant, when the wild bees are flitting from flower to flower, and the whole atmosphere full of the sounds of insect and bird life, and looking out on the rapid-flowing sound below you, it is hard to realise that you are not in the land of clotted cream and cider, and that you are on the north side of the Pentland Firth of evil repute. About a mile further west you come to the church of Swandro, till quite recent days the parish church of the island. It is a parallelogram, 52 ft. 11 in. by 14 ft. 5 in. inside. The doorway is on the south side, near the west end, and on the same side are three flat-headed windows splaying inwards and outwards. There are also windows at the west end, north side, and east end. Close to the door is a recess, probably for holy water.

North-west of the church, and just outside the churchyard are the remains of mason-work, which local tradition says formed part of Sigurd of Westness’ dwelling-house. West again of this are the grass-grown remains of one if not more brochs. To the east of the churchyard are some curious impressions on the rocks, as if made with naked feet.

On the south side of the little islet of Eynhallow (the Eyin-Helga, Holy Isle of the Saga) were discovered some years back the remains of an old chapel, which, a gentleman informed the writer, have since been wantonly thrown down by a yacht-full of gorillas. It is somewhat rough on the gorilla, and, one could hardly realise such a piece of gratuitous vandalism, had there not been the case of the Logan Rock in Cornwall. The chapel, so far as could be made out, consisted of a nave 20 ft. 7 in, by 12 ft. inside, at the west end of which was a round arch, 4 ft. 3 in. wide, leading to a building 7 ft. 9 in. by 7 ft. 5 in., which Dryden is of opinion might have been a sacristy added at a later date, the doorway leading to it being the original entrance to the church, and the south doorway being opened when the chancel was added.

There was a regular chancel at the east end, 12 ft. by 8 ft. 9 in. Outside the south door of the nave was a square addition, 8 ft. 1 in. by 7 ft. 7 in. inside, with a radiating staircase. The building had long been occupied as a dwelling-house, and of course had been very much mutilated; but summing up the probabilities, Dryden is of opinion that the nave and chancel were nth or 12th century work; that a new chancel arch was put up in the 14th century, at which date the buildings at the west end and on the south side were added. Mr. Karl Blind is of opinion that the name Eyin Helga meant “The Sanctuary (Heiligthum in German) of the Isles,” and that the islet held the same position to the rest of the group that Heligoland did to the Frisian Isles.

On the north-western and south-western sides of Eynhallow are the Burger and Wheal Rostis, which, as the flood-tide, with springs, runs seven knots an hour, must be a sight to see, when a nor’-wester has for some days been piling the waters of the Atlantic on the Orcadian coast. A little west of Swandro Church is a geo, rejoicing in the significant name of Paradise, in which boats sometimes take shelter, till the tide turns. Somewhere about here Swein captured Jarl Paul, when hunting otters near Scabra Head, and the name of the district, Swandro, appears to have some connection with that incident. A cave on Eynhallow Isle bears the name of “the Cave of Twenty Men,” which may also have owed its name to the abduction of Paul.

A short distance beyond Paradise Geo you come to a series of gloups, or blow-holes, known as the Sinions of Cutclaws. The first is about thirty yards from the sea, thirty yards long, and twenty-four broad; the second a few yards beyond, circular, and about ten yards in diameter. Before, however, coming to the Sinions, and between them and Scabra Head, are some curiously formed arches, known as the Hole of the Horse, and Auk Hall; and without being of any great height, the cliffs are very picturesque and bold. A mile further you come to another sinion, known as the Kiln of Dusty. Here Bring Head commences, a very fine stretch of cliffs in places overhanging the water, the highest point of which, Hellia Spur, is probably about 300 feet. Close to Hellia Spur is the Stack of the Lobust, a long, narrow portion of rock which has slipped away from the cliff, from which it is now separated by a chasm not much over twenty feet in width. A little east of this is another similar stack in process of formation.

[The two walkers on the top of Sacquoy Head give a sense of perspective, and show just how high – and dangerous – the cliffs in the North-Western part of Rousay are.
To the right is the ‘storm beach’ at Sacquoy Head, littered with boulders thrown up by the action and power of the sea.]

From this point you get a very pretty view of Sacquoy Head, with Westray behind it. Close to Sacquoy Head are the Kilns of Brin Neven, before coming to which is a gigantic edition of the well-known Grind of the Navir in Shetland, though not so accurately cut. The sea has seized hold of a weaker than usual spot in the stratification of the cliff here, and has carved out a huge gateway, or embrasure, the stones from which lie piled in heaps to the rear. The Kilns are a series of three gloups, extending about 200 yards, from east to west. The western one is a gruesome abyss. Both of the eastern ones have arches opening seaward, through one of which you get an exquisite peep of the sea outside. All this coast line, to be properly appreciated, should be seen from a boat, and there are any amount of caves to be explored. Owing, however, to the strong tideways off the points, and the “lift ” of the sea close to the rocks, the weather must be something exceptional to render it worth a trial. Probably a week or so of light winds from east or south-east and tides at dead neap would be most favourable.

From the Kilns of Brin Neven it is best to make straight for Saviskaill, as the rest of the coast-line is not worth following round. The loch of Saviskaill, or Wasbister, though not more than forty-five acres in area, is one of the best in the islands for fishing, as the trout average nearly three-quarters of a pound each. On a small holm in the loch, where quantities of wild duck breed, are said to be the remains of a small chapel, known as the Chapel of Burrian — a name which looks as if it had been built, like the chapel dedicated to St Tredwell in Papa Westray, on the site of an old broch. There must have been in ancient days a perfect nest of these small chapels around this loch, as at the north end, close to the old burial-ground, was one known as Corse, or Cross Kirk; on Bretaness, a small promontory jutting out on the east side, was another; and N.N.E. of Langskaill, close to the sea, and dedicated to St Colm, a fourth.

[Above left is an eastern view from the top of the Sourin Brae, with the farm of Bigland in the
foreground, the northern ends of the Holm of Scockness and Egilsay, and the western coast
of Eday across the firth. To the right is a view of Kierfea Hill from the Bay of Ham in Sourin.]

Here you strike the carriage road again, a splendid instance of misplaced ingenuity, being carried over the shoulder of Kierfea Hill, instead of, as might have been done with very little trouble, round it From the highest point (411 feet above the sea), you get some good views of Faraclett Head, in the face of which is said to be a very fine cave, access to which can, with the aid of a rope, be had from land, by a steady head and strong arms. The whole round from Sourin past Westness, if Blotchinfield and Jupiter Fring are not visited, will take some eight or nine hours. There ought to be very fair sea-trout fishing with wind off shore, and water slightly coloured by rainfall, at the mouth of the Sourin Burn; but, as a portion of the shootings is let, and the proprietor, Lieut-General Burroughs, C.B., generally has a houseful of visitors staying at Trumland, the tourist must not expect to get any fishing…..

Extracted from

The Orkneys and Shetland; Their Past & Present State.

by

John R. Tudor

Printed in London by
Edward Stanford, 55, Charing Cross, S.W.
Kirkwall: Wm. Peace & Son. Lerwick: C. & A. Sandison.

1883