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 The Sporting Gallery 
 AND Bookshop, inc. 
 
 I No. 38, Easf 52nd St., New York 11 
 
pof* lloriBT 
 
\TE LIBRARY. 
 
 A. Sherwin. 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 
 A BANISHED BEAUTY : A NOVEL. 
 
 THE BOOK OF THE ALL-ROUND ANGLER. 
 
 THE CURIOSITIES OF ALE AND BEER. 
 
 ANGLING IN SALT WATER. 
 
 WITH THE BEST INTENTIONS. 
 
 AN IRISH MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 THAMES RIGHTS AND THAMES WRONGS. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/daysinthulewithrOObickrich 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 WITH ROD, 
 
 GUN, AND CAMERA 
 
 JOHN BICKERDYKE^^KW•*<^^. 
 
 AUTHOR OF *A BANISHED BEAUTY,' ' THE BOOK OF 
 THE ALL-ROUND ANGLER,* ' THAMES RIGHTS 
 AND THAMES WRONGS,' ' THE CURIOSITIES 
 OF ALE AND BEER,' ETC. 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 ARCH. CONSTABLE AND CO. 
 14 PARLIAMENT ST. S.W. 
 
 MDCCCXCIV 
 
Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to Her Majesty 
 
DEDICATO ALLA MIA GRAZIOSISSIMA 
 E GENTILISSIMA OSPITE 
 
 CLOTILDE 
 
 IN MEMORIA DEI FELICISSIMI GIORNI 
 
 PASSAT! NELLE CONTRADE 
 
 DESERTE DEL NORD 
 
 W;844.848 
 
 
PREFACE 
 
 I HE foundations of this book were 
 laid in the columns of the Field 
 and Graphic^ and I have much 
 pleasure in gratefully acknowledging the courtesy 
 shown- me by the editors of these admirable 
 journals. I have added several stories to the 
 little edifice, have remodelled and planned, deco- 
 rated inside and out, roofed in, and now offer 
 the result to the critical gaze of the reading 
 public. 
 
 This is a simple record of life in a Hebridean 
 shooting-lodge. If any one who has done me the 
 
 honour to read the adventures of A Banished 
 ix 
 
DAYS IN TH ULE 
 
 Beauty in a somewhat similar locality should 
 find here and there points of slight resemblance 
 in some description of scenery or sporting inci- 
 dent, I beg him remember that in the writing of 
 novels, as in the spinning of anglers^ yarns, an 
 occasional lapse into truth is desirable to give 
 the effect of realism. At the same time let me 
 hasten with all possible speed to say, that it was 
 not at Gheira Lodge I made the acquaintance 
 of those three remarkable Cockney sportsmen 
 who figure in the work of fiction. What we 
 really did, and how we did it, is herein more 
 or less truthfully described, with some slight 
 change of names, which was obviously desirable. 
 
 I may, perhaps, be taken to task for not giving 
 more information concerning the habits of the 
 people of Lewis and the management of the 
 island. That portion of the subject has been so 
 
PREFACE 
 fully dealt with by Mr. Anderson Smith, in 
 Lewsiana^ a book to be read by every one who 
 visits the island, that there was little or nothing 
 for me to add. 
 
 JOHN BICKERDYKE. 
 
 South Stoke^ Oxon^ 
 June 1894. 
 
 Amateur photographers may, perhaps, be 
 interested to know that the illustrations, with 
 the exception of those on pages % 92, 125, 149, 
 and 177, are due to the more or less judicious 
 manipulation of a ^-plate Kodak. 
 
 XI 
 
• CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. GHEIRA LODGE^ 
 
 II. THE HADDIES OF THULE, 
 
 III. WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE^ 
 
 IV. CONJURING SALMON, 
 
 V. DUCK^ PLOVER, AND SNIPE, 
 
 VI. A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD, 
 
 VII. AN ASSAULT ON THE BLUE ROCK STRONG- 
 HOLDS ...... 
 
 VIII. THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE, . 
 
 IX. ' SALMO IRRITANS ' AND HIS VANQUISHMENT, 
 
 X. THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS, . . 
 
 XI. OUR SEA-TROUT DITCH, ..... 
 
 XII. FAREWELL TO THULE, .... 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 15 
 28 
 
 43 
 59 
 69 
 
 82 
 100 
 
 115 
 141 
 
 157 
 168 
 
 Xlll 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FRONTISPIECE. 
 
 ' A BUILDING KNOWN ALL OVER THE KINGDOM AS ^^ THE 
 
 castle/*' ....... 2 
 
 ^ IT IS PITIFUL, IS IT NOT }' , . . . . J 
 
 '^ A ferry-boat CRAMMED WITH people/ . . IJ 
 
 ^ BOATS NEED BE WEATHERLY there/ . . . 1 8 
 
 ' WE PAY AN EARLY VISIT TO THE KENNELS_,' . . 2() 
 
 ' A PIOUS OLD woman/ ''*».' 2)2> 
 
 ' DID I EFFER POACH A SAUMON I* — OH^ AY ! ' . . 53 
 
 ^ BLACK^ UNFERTILE^ DESOLATE-LOOKING PLACEs/ . 64 
 
 ^ HE SAT ON THE BANK COMPLACENTLY SMOKINg/ . 75 
 
 ^ THE SHELTERED NOOK WHERE SOME HERRING-BOATS 
 
 LAY AT anchor/ . . . . . . 86 
 
 ^ I WAS ABLE TO OPEN THE LENS AT THE VERY MOMENT 
 
 ONE OF THOSE WHO WERE ON BOARD FIREd/ . 92 
 
 *^the one occasion on which i made him laugh 
 
 outright/ ....... 103 
 
 XV 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 PAGE 
 ' THEY DO LOOK AS IF THEY WERE DANCING A WILD 
 
 JIG, don't THEY ?' . . . . . .122 
 
 *^ SOMETHING SPECIALLY DIABOLICAL^' . . . 1 25 
 
 ^ A LITTLE MATTER OF TWENTY-TWO MILES THERE AND 
 
 HOME again!' ...... 144 
 
 '^ A PICTURESQUE group/ ..... I45 
 
 *^SURF BREAKING ON THE SAND^ BUT NO SEAL^' . . 1 49 
 
 *^ SHE 'S JOOST A FINE mare/ HE WAS SAYING^ . . 161 
 
 ^ FRITH TOOK A PHOTO OF ONE LITTLE ROADSIDE 
 
 SCENE_,' . . . . , . . .177 
 
 SKYE^ . . . . . . . .179 
 
 ^ BOUND FOR OBAN AND civilisation/ . . . 181 
 
^--^.=^^<Su^-^ 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 GHEIRA LODGE 
 
 STRANGE land; 
 
 My three days' journey down 
 the Clyde and abreast the beau- 
 tiful west coast of Scotland had 
 come to an end at Stornoway, which, like Dublin, 
 rejoices in a building known all over the king- 
 dom as ' the castle."* The herring-scented little 
 capital was a mile or more astern of the dog- 
 cart, and a sturdy grey pony, jerked along by 
 an equally sturdy, thickset, powerful man, was 
 drawing me rapidly over the moorland road 
 which skirted Broad Bay, choicest haddock- 
 ground, not only of the Outer Hebrides, but 
 of all Scotland. 
 
 1 A 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 ' A strange land indeed." 
 
 As I made the remark, more to myself than 
 Donald, we were passing through the ' black 
 
 'a building known all over the kingdom as "the castle. 
 
 country" of the Lewis, the great peat-bogs, 
 whence the little capital of the island draws its 
 chief supplies of fuel. Any slight traces of 
 vegetation there may have been were hidden by 
 2 
 
GHEIRA LODGE 
 the gathering twilight. All round us the country 
 was dark and gloomy, its monotony only varied 
 by heaps of black peat stacked ready for cart or 
 creel. The scene was weird, almost horrible ; a 
 fitting abode for witches and uncanny things. 
 Even in sunlight it was not a cheerful place. Was 
 this the beautiful Thule I had read of ? It seemed 
 to me rather the abomination of desolation. 
 
 Soon, with much clatter, we crossed a rickety, 
 wooden bridge. 
 
 ' The Greedy,'' said Donald. 
 
 ' Salmon ? ' I queried. 
 
 ' It is the fourth best river in the island." 
 
 The country changed now, and we came to the 
 sweet, open, undulating moorland, untouched, 
 save by the grazing of crofters'* cows and the 
 trimming of the heather tops by the grouse. Not 
 a tree nor any sign of life was visible ; not even a 
 stone wall. The long white road and a fishing- 
 boat in the bay were the only signs of civilisation. 
 Another mile was left behind us, and I made out, 
 3 
 
DAYS IN TH ULE 
 
 on the low-lying land towards the sea, a long 
 double row of round-topped, badly-thatched ricks. 
 
 ' That is Vashka," said Donald. 
 
 ' A big farmer,^ said I, ' to have all those 
 ricks.** 
 
 Donald's grave intelligent face bore an amused 
 expression. ' They are no ricks, whateffer, they 
 are crofters' cottages.' 
 
 Imagine a building more or less rectangular, 
 but with rounded ends, the walls low and im- 
 mensely thick, some faced, inside and out, with 
 unhewn and unmortared stones — earth or peat 
 lying between, others built entirely of peat sods. 
 On the top of this wall, a flat grassy walk whereon 
 children play, goats feed, and clothes and nets 
 are placed to dry. A round, low, eaveless roof 
 rising from the inner edges of the four walls, the 
 thatch being held in place by hay or straw bands 
 stretched tightly across, and sometimes by an old 
 herring net. The whole often windowless, always 
 chimneyless. Imagine this, if you can, and you 
 4 
 
GHEIRA LODGE 
 have in your mind's eye a Hebridean cot, such 
 perhaps as has been built any time these past 
 five hundred years, and differing not greatly from 
 the ancient bee-hive dwelling. 
 
 Donald told me many things of the primitive, 
 good-natured. God-fearing, landlord-hating folk 
 who constructed those curious tenements. Chim- 
 neys they abhorred ; the wise people of Thule 
 having long ago discovered that smoke contained 
 something which was good for the land. Each 
 year, therefore, their well-charged smoke-filters 
 went on to their crofts and added to the crops of 
 the next. In other words, once in every twelve 
 months the thatch, saturated with smoke, was 
 stripped from the roofs and spread over the fields, 
 fresh straw taking its place. So short was the 
 straw, owing to the all too short summers, that 
 some of the grain crops were usually pulled up by 
 the roots. That little, which would have consti- 
 tuted stubble if the crop had been reaped, could 
 not be spared by these poor but tbrifty people. 
 5 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 A chimneyless room in Peatland is not so 
 very horrible a place. The fire, a heap of live 
 peats, smoulders as often as not in the centre of 
 the clay floor, and the white smoke rises upwards 
 and collects in the round roof where the chickens 
 roost on the odds and ends of drift-wood, which 
 support the thatch. After curling awhile among 
 the poultry it filters out through the thick thatch. 
 
 Those who sit on the low bench by the fire 
 smell the peat reek, but do not choke of it. Weak 
 eyes smart a little j ust at first, that is all, and in 
 compensation the pleasant peat bouquet over- 
 comes less pleasant odours, and seems to kill the 
 germs of fever and some other diseases. I smiled 
 (somewhat sadly) at first sight of those strange 
 miserable-looking dwellings, but later on I under- 
 stood how in that land of violent winds and heavy 
 rains walls had to be thick and roofs eaveless. 
 No jerry-built villa nor model cottage could with- 
 stand the weather on those wind-swept, water- worn 
 
 6 
 
GHEIRA LODGE 
 
 But still, look at the piled-up stones with heap 
 of barley roots on top, which is shown in the 
 illustration. That aperture is the entrance to a 
 
 ' IT IS PITIFUL, IS IT NOT? ' 
 
 fellow-creature's home. It is pitiful, is it not ? 
 There two — perhaps three — generations of a family 
 dwell ; winter and summer, storm and fair, wet or 
 dry. Children are born in it, old men and women 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 die in it, cattle are stabled in it the winter 
 through. My lords and gentlemen, when you 
 talk harshly or think unkindly of these people, 
 because, may be, they lack sympathy with your 
 sports, or are in arrears with rents, remember 
 their surroundings, and that to them are given 
 none of the cakes and ale of this life. Their 
 manly endurance is heroic almost, but if some- 
 times discontent comes bubbling up to the sur- 
 face and a cry is raised for more land or better 
 houses, who are we that we should cast stones ? 
 Who is content ? And echo answers quickly. 
 
 Some such thoughts as these flitted involun- 
 tarily through my mind as we drove rapidly past 
 the squalid clachan. 
 
 The whole country told in its face a story of 
 wild winter weather. The hillsides were seamed 
 with numberless furrows cut right down through 
 the thick layer of peat to the hard rock beneath. 
 Long tangled mosses, beautiful but deadly, choked 
 the clumps of heather on the moist parts of the 
 8 
 
GHEIRA LODGE 
 
 moor. The heather was shorter and less lux- 
 uriant than any I had seen elsewhere. Lochs 
 and streams were everywhere, burns often sinking 
 into the moorland in places and rising to sight 
 again lower down the valleys nearer the sea. 
 And there were no trees : that told a tale. 
 
 Leaving Vashka and another village behind us, 
 we passed a few acres of enclosed grass-land sur- 
 rounding a substantial stone house — one of the 
 small sheep farms which have wholly, or in part, 
 been made on land originally reclaimed from the 
 moor by the crofters. Then we j ourneyed through 
 more moorland, rumbled over the wooden bridge 
 which spanned the salmon-river of my host, and 
 trotted through great bent-covered sand-hills. 
 Among these lay an ancient unfenced burying- 
 place, the forefathers of the clan taking their last 
 sleep round the ruins of a venerable chapel. 
 Suddenly the road left the sand-hills, there arose 
 a great barking of dogs, and j ust as darkness fell 
 I found myself brought in contact with civilisa- 
 9 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 tion once more ; kennels, stables, keeper'^s cottage, 
 farm-buildings, shooting-lodge, all grouped around, 
 a blaze of light coming from an open door, 
 and two genial-looking women beaming on the 
 new arrival. 
 
 It was not until the following morning that 
 I learned how beautiful was the spot in which I 
 was to spend the summer and early autumn of 
 189-. Great Broad Bay, fringed with miles of 
 dazzling white sands, lay before us, and dimly in 
 the distance we could see the blue mountains of 
 Skye and the mainland. The lodge was built on 
 the very edge of the sand-dunes. So close, indeed, 
 were we to the sea, that a former tenant once shot 
 an unsuspecting grebe from an upper window. 
 It happened during a spring tide, at high water, 
 and the bird was swimming past close to the shore. 
 
 A quarter of a mile or so from us were two 
 
 barren islands, where gulls, curlew, geese, divers 
 
 and sundry wild-fowl met in conclave and held 
 
 animated conversations. Sheltered by the islets 
 
 10 
 
GHEIRA LODGE 
 and cliffs which rose gradually to the northward, 
 lay black-hulled fishing-boats at anchor in the 
 bay. Behind us to the westward stretched away 
 miles of warm, brown moorland, purpled here and 
 there by the heather just bursting into blossom, 
 and rising gradually to the horizon where Ben 
 Mo-nach, with his twin tops, stood not grandly, 
 but rather stolidly out against the gorgeous 
 northern sunsets. 
 
 Six or seven miles to the southward, and form- 
 ing one side of the great bay, was that curious 
 strip of land known as the ' Eye of Lewis,** at 
 the end of which — it pleased me to remember — 
 the old King of Borva viewed out of sight the 
 steamer which was bearing away his darling 
 Sheila, Princess of Thule. Further southward 
 still rose the mountains of Harris, and rarely was 
 it that their summits were not cloud-capped. 
 Ever-changing sea, heather-covered moorlands, 
 rugged mountains, silvery sands, gorgeous atmo- 
 spheric effects — what more could man wish ? 
 11 
 
DAYS IN TH ULE 
 
 I cannot answer for man in the abstract, but 
 I confess that the individuals then dwelling in 
 Gheira Lodge had desires even beyond these 
 things. They thought much, for instance, of 
 grouse, salmon, and trout, and felt, moreover, 
 an interest in such smaller items as plover, blue 
 hares, rabbit, blue rock-pigeons, duck, and wild- 
 fowl generally. I, in addition, had visions of 
 great hauls of sea-fish, and even the ladies of our 
 party, having heard legends of enormous mush- 
 rooms, were anxious to roam those grassy slopes 
 near the cliffs. Later on their fair ambition took 
 the form of burn-trout, rising gradually through 
 loch-trout and sea-trout to salmon. 
 
 Happy times had we in this nook of Britain, 
 but let it be understood that there were days 
 when fish would not rise, or scent was bad, or 
 rain would not come ; days on which the heart 
 of the average British sportsman was apt to get 
 sad, and was not to be cheered by the grandest 
 scenery, or nature's greatest efforts with cloud, 
 IS 
 
GHEIRA LODGE 
 mist, sunshine, and vapour. How well I remem- 
 ber one weary, wet drag of many miles over the 
 moor to certain distant lochs after wildfowl ! We 
 killed one duck, lost our way, and one of our 
 party was made ill by over-exertion ! 
 
 Did we not on another memorable occasion for 
 many hours stalk great flocks of shy, plump, 
 tasty, golden plover, five guns killing one bird 
 between them ? Were not miles of water often 
 fished without a rise from a salmon ? Such for- 
 tune may befall one anywhere occasionally ; I only 
 raise up the ghosts of such evil times to prevent 
 misleading those of my readers who might other- 
 wise think that among Hebridean roses there 
 were no thorns. More than once has the pub- 
 lished description of some red-letter day with rod 
 or gun lured me to undertake some long and 
 expensive expedition, only to find at the end of it 
 that either the description I had read was of 
 sport enjoyed years ago (when things were 
 different), or during an exceptional visitation of 
 13 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 beast or fish. Sometimes, too, in my experience, 
 it has happened that glowing descriptions of sport 
 have been untrue from beginning to end, having 
 been written to bring visitors to some hotel, or 
 to effect the letting of moor or salmon-river. 
 
 May I venture to offer a word of advice before 
 closing this chapter ? Never rent a moor or a 
 stream without first having a written list of the 
 game and fish killed the previous year, and the 
 number of guns and rods which were brought into 
 action to make the bag. If possible, verify the 
 list by a reference to the last tenant. If no list 
 was kept, be certain that few birds or fish were 
 killed. A well-known agent once pressed upon 
 me a salmon-river, where on inquiry I found 
 that the average take was four fish a year. In 
 the previous season only one salmon had been 
 killed ! Ascertain, too, when the river is at its 
 best. It is poor comfort after renting a river for 
 the spring months to be told that there will be a 
 grand run of fish in July. 
 14 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE HADDIES OF THULE 
 
 IHERE was dead low water in the 
 salmon-river, and no breeze for the 
 lochs. The shooting-season proper 
 had not commenced. Thus it came 
 about that four individuals in search of an occu- 
 pation had to fall back upon such sport as the sea 
 might afford ; the sea at that particular spot 
 being, as I have already said, represented by 
 Broad Bay, the most notable haddock-ground in 
 the kingdom. 
 
 If lying among the sand-dunes, lazily watching 
 
 the sea-birds and drinking deep draughts of that 
 
 glorious, exhilarating, health -giving, Hebridean 
 
 air can be deemed a waste of time, which I very 
 
 15 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 much doubt, we wasted the morning as one is 
 very apt to do in hot summer weather. But 
 Murdo the Black and Murdo the Long searched 
 meanwhile for mussels with good effect, and got 
 the boat ready. Inattention to detail is a 
 peculiarity of the Celtic races, and had been 
 exemplified on former sea-fishing excursions by 
 a rope hardly long enough to reach the bottom, 
 an anchor all too small to hold our little craft 
 in a breeze, and a recklessness in the matter of 
 putting the boat on the marks, which accounted 
 for poor sport on previous expeditions of the kind. 
 
 But to-day we were properly found. When 
 in Stornoway I had bought a fine long manilla 
 rope, and the anchor was to be supplemented 
 by one of the large stones which we carried 
 as ballast. Moreover, I had mastered the marks 
 and had made up my mind that we should be 
 brought within a boat's-length of the right spot, 
 Celt or no Celt. 
 
 If you would care to see a picture of our little 
 16 
 
THE HADDIES OF THULE 
 craft, turn to chapter vii., where you will note 
 that she was put to other uses than fishing. 
 There are many of what one may term local 
 
 ^*^^' 
 
 ^1 ^ 
 
 'A FERRY-BOAT CRAMMED WITH PEOPLE.* 
 
 patterns of boats, each being designed to possess 
 just those qualities which are rendered necessary 
 by the peculiarities of the coast. The surf-boats 
 of India, the cobles of the flat, sandy Yorkshire 
 17 B 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 shores, which have half a keel, and a flat bottom 
 aft ; the deep, stable yacht — why, a long essay 
 might be written on the subject. Coming up the 
 
 BOATS NEED BE WEATHEKLY THERE. 
 
 west coast I photographed many an interesting 
 craft from the steamboat. One of them (photo- 
 graph, not craft) may be seen facing the title- 
 page. Then there was a picture of a ferry-boat 
 18 
 
THE HADDIES OF THULE 
 crammed with people — luggage apparently on the 
 top of the people — a hay-rake of noble propor- 
 tions over all, and a balk of timber just thrown 
 overboard from the steamer to be towed ashore. 
 Compare this open boat, used in sheltered bays to 
 go short distances between steamer and shore, 
 with the weatherly craft which I saw lying at 
 anchor in Loch Hourn. That loch of precipi- 
 tous mountain-sides has a death-roll each year 
 of men, for the unexpected mountain wind-rush 
 causes many capsizes. Boats need be weatherly 
 there, for even on the fairest summer day no man 
 who sails those waters in undecked boat may be 
 sure of his life for ten minutes together. Our 
 particular boat has to be fairly flat, for she is 
 beached when not in use, but the Minch is lively 
 at times, so she needs must be a good sea boat, 
 and also sail well. These desirable qualities she 
 has in a greater or less degree, and is probably as 
 well suited to our purpose as anything that could 
 be built. But I am wandering far from Broad 
 19 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 Bay and its excellent baddies. While I have 
 been talking the lug-sail has been hoisted, and 
 we are fairly under weigh. 
 
 A light westerly breeze sped us quickly towards 
 the fishing-ground. Getting a derelict fishing- 
 boat, whose ribs were bleaching on the sandy 
 shore, in a line with the top of the highest hill on 
 the land we were leaving, I held my course until 
 an emerald-green patch of sward opened up from 
 behind a black-looking rocky point to the north- 
 ward. Immediately this appeared the anchor was 
 let go, and the little vessel quickly brought to. 
 
 In five minutes our lines were overboard and a 
 second later one of the lady anglers announced 
 with satisfaction that she had caught the first 
 fish, but on pulling up her spreader found she had 
 merely lost her baits, which was not quite the 
 same thing. Then my rod, which I had moment- 
 arily put down, all but went overboard, and after 
 a few minutes'" play two beautiful haddocks could 
 be seen flashing about in the clear water some 
 
THE HADDIES OFT RULE 
 fathoms beneath the boat. Before these could be 
 landed my friend cried, ' I have one ! ^ and rapidly 
 hauled up a fish of about 21b. weight. I asked 
 Murdo the Black for the landing-net, whereat he 
 looked at me wonderingly ; but Murdo the Long, 
 who was more accustomed to the ways of English- 
 men, said the one word ' scumma ' — I spell it 
 phonetically — and Murdo the Black understood. 
 
 I was fishing, as I do whenever it is possible, 
 with a stout, single gut paternoster, bearing two 
 eyed hooks. In that bay there is but little 
 stream, so light leads can be used, and as the 
 bottom is for the most part sandy, one has a 
 chance of playing and landing a large fish on 
 what is, for the sea, remarkably fine tackle. 
 Rod and line fishing can therefore be followed 
 with comfort, and, moreover, with great advan- 
 tage, on bright, calm days. Before my fish 
 were out of the landing-net, there was a cry of 
 ' scumma ^ from the other side of the boat, and 
 while the net was being passed across, it was 
 91 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 again wanted on my side. In fact, no sooner 
 was our tackle within a fathom of the bottom 
 than a fish seized the bait, and frequently two 
 were caught on one line. 
 
 The Murdos were kept busy taking off the 
 fish and re-baiting the lines, but being polite, 
 as all Highlanders are, devoted themselves prin- 
 cipally to the lady anglers, whose excitement 
 was great. In the midst of it all Murdo the 
 Long announced that there were no more mussels, 
 whereat our faces lengthened considerably. 
 
 But there is a good providence which occa- 
 sionally, but not too often, looks after anglers, 
 and the very last mussel produced a grey 
 gurnet of about l^lb., which cut up into a 
 number of tough and lasting baits. With 
 these we caught haddocks as quickly as with the 
 shell-fish, and the fun continued fast and furious. 
 
 Unnoticed by us the wind had freshened a 
 little, and slowly but surely we were dragging our 
 anchor. The remedy, one which salt-water 
 ^2 
 
THE HADDIES OF THULE 
 anglers who are not acquainted with the wrinkle 
 may bear in mind with advantage, was to send a 
 messenger down to the anchor, the said messenger 
 beino; a stone taken from the ballast. A short 
 piece of rope was fastened to it, the ends were 
 loosely tied round the mooring rope, and the 
 stone cast into the sea. In a few seconds it had 
 slid down the mooring rope on to the anchor, 
 and we no longer drifted. In a high wind I 
 have sometimes had as many as three large stones 
 sent down the mooring cable. Care 'must be 
 taken, however, not to put such a weight on the 
 cable that the anchor plus messengers cannot be 
 weighed without breaking the rope, for a broken 
 cable will in all probability mean a lost anchor. 
 
 Finally we left off fishing while the fish were 
 still biting — a sadly improper thing to do, but 
 rendered necessary by our having no bait left but 
 haddocks themselves, slight qualms on the part 
 of one of the ladies, and the near approach of 
 the dinner-hour. It may seem trivial to enter 
 23 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 into these details, but to cease fishing in the 
 full tide of success is so remarkable as to require 
 a thorough explanation. 
 
 While the men tidied the boat and coiled 
 up the hand-lines we counted the fish, and found 
 we had fifty-five, which weighed considerably 
 over half a hundredweight. How different they 
 looked to the haddock of the fishmonger's shop. 
 They are beautiful fish when first hauled up out 
 of the water, being then a warm grey colour, with 
 a pale mauve bloom over them, and eyes bright 
 and lustrous. I heard a lady, who knew only the 
 shop variety, ask, ' What fish is this ? "* so great 
 was the difference. Nor is the matter only one 
 of appearance, for the haddock freshly caught 
 is a very superior food to the rather coarse fish 
 which we get in big cities. But then we usually 
 boil them, and if a fish is naturally poor, boiling 
 it is the way to show it at its worst. A boiled 
 haddock is like a picture without a frame. Katie, 
 our Hebridean cook, taught us that the way to 
 
THE HADDIES OF THULE 
 cook haddies was to fillet them like soles, egg 
 and bread-crumb, and fry. Thus done, most of 
 those who had the good fortune to taste them 
 preferred them to sea-trout. Never shall I forget 
 those fillets of Broad Bay haddocks. 
 
 The wind being off shore and now somewhat 
 light and fitful, we did not beat home. Each 
 with a long sweep — a clumsy apology for an oar, 
 the two Murdos pulled us slowly towards the 
 lodge, we fishers taking their places for the last 
 quarter of a mile. With a rabbit-rifle we vainly 
 attempted to bring down one of the solan geese 
 which were still diligently fishing around us. 
 Twice we managed to send a bullet through the 
 feathers of a bird's wing, but that was all. 
 
 Behind the great peat-bog, for Lewis is little 
 else, the sun was going down red into the At- 
 lantic. The blue peat-smoke ascended from the 
 low, thatched, hive-like dwellings of the crofters, 
 and lights shone brightly in some of the windows 
 of the lodge. The excitement of pulling up the 
 25 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 fish once over, we found time to discover that 
 
 even in summer it is owre chilly on the water 
 
 eight hundred miles north of London. Then 
 
 came the landing among the slippery rocks, 
 
 Murdo the Long gallantly carrying the ladies on 
 
 shore. 
 
 Close by our landing-place, on the edge of 
 the sea-weed which fringed the rocks, a salmon 
 and half a dozen sea-trout were leaping — pleasing 
 augury of sport to come in the river when the 
 fish were able to run up. Then there was the 
 picturesque walk back to the lodge by the top 
 of the cliffs over short, sweet grass, the growing- 
 place of certain commendable mushrooms. The 
 Murdos came staggering after us with the fish, 
 and Katie, who had been watching for our 
 arrival, met us at the door all smiles, and pleased 
 as we were at a fine addition to the larder. The 
 angler or shooter who came home empty-handed 
 usually endeavoured to avoid meeting that excel- 
 lent cook'^s eye, I noticed. 
 26 
 
THE HADDIES OF THULE 
 Ten minutes after our home-coming there was 
 ' a sound of frizzHng by night,' and half an hour 
 later ten persons might have been heard declar- 
 ing that there were no haddocks in the whole 
 wide world so good as those coming from Broad 
 Bay, and no cook more admirable than Katie. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 WILD DOGS AXD TAME GROUSE 
 
 I HE sport afforded by grouse in the 
 Lews may be summed up in four 
 words. Easy shooting, exhausting- 
 walking. Dogs are absolutely neces- 
 sary, and we have a kennel full of beauties. 
 
 To-day there is an unwonted stir among the 
 residents in the whitewashed little buildings 
 at the back of the stables. Do they know, I 
 wonder, that the first of September has arrived ? 
 That wise old retriever must have remembered 
 that the coat Donald had on when he came with 
 the biscuits was the very one he wears when out 
 with the Shentlemens," and has communicated 
 the fact to the rest. Even before breakfast there 
 28 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 are excited barkings, and glimpses of reddish- 
 brown above the whitewash, as the Irish setters 
 
 WE I'AY AX EARLY VISIT TO THE KENNELS. 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 leap up and endeavour to discover what is going 
 on in the outer world beyond that low rough- 
 cast wall. 
 
 We pay an early visit to the kennels, and there 
 is a general rush to the close-barred gate. Pat, 
 the Irishman, panting, and with soft red tongue 
 hanging out, eagerly greets us, sided by Spot, 
 the Laverack, who looks up with gentle, appeal- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 An hour later we are on the moor. 
 
 There are five of us — two to shoot; Donald, 
 the keeper, with a brace of dogs ; Black Murdo 
 to carry the game ; and Long Murdo to lead the 
 couple of Laverack setters, and bear on his 
 broad shoulders the creel containing lunch. 
 
 We are crossing the snipe-bog near the sea, 
 but our business is not with snipe to-day, and 
 the dogs are not uncoupled until we reach higher, 
 but not much drier ground, on which there is a 
 poor apology for heather. On one side of us is 
 the great bay dotted with the little craft from 
 30 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 which the thrifty crofters catch those excellent 
 haddocks. Hawking for fish are great solan 
 geese, which every few minutes make terrific 
 dives through the air and send up a small water- 
 spout as they disappear in the sea, bouncing up 
 again in a second or two with a wriggling sand- 
 eel in their beak. Sage-looking cormorants, 
 sitting on a reef of rocks, flop heavily across the 
 bay when my companion fires at a snipe which 
 rises almost at his feet. Large gulls soar high 
 in the air mysteriously, for though their wings 
 move not, they seem to make headway against 
 the wind. Small companies of blue rock -pigeons 
 flit along by the cliffs ; divers of many kinds 
 bespeck the heaving water ; of visible birds there 
 is great plenty ; but, though there is no cover 
 worthy the name, and we have walked a mile 
 over the moor, we have not seen a grouse. 
 
 It is a curious country this for grouse, or per- 
 haps I should say that the grouse are oddly 
 behaved. A man may walk over twenty miles 
 31 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 of moorland well-stocked with birds, and yet not 
 see more than two or three. Even with the best 
 of dogs they are often most difficult to find, the 
 scent on most days being anything but good. 
 Before lunch it is nearly always bad, and I have 
 known out of a bag of ten brace only one brace 
 to be shot before two o'clock. 
 
 ' Hold up,** says Donald the keeper, and two 
 handsome red setters bound away over the moor. 
 They are brother and sister these two, but as 
 unlike each other, except as to size and colour, 
 as two dogs can well be. Pat, the dog, is a 
 gay, dashing fellow, with good-humoured laugh- 
 ing face, whose temper is absolutely perfect. 
 Very much too gay and dashing is he to-day, 
 for in the exuberance of his spirits he promptly 
 springs a snipe, gives chase, marks it down, 
 springs it again, gives chase again, marks it 
 again, and repeats the performance until the 
 snipe, unused to such conduct on the part of 
 dogs, makes a long flight, and disappears over 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 
 the horizon, Pat in full chase. Just before we 
 lose sight of him he dashes through a large 
 
 A PIOUS OLD WOMAN. 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 covey of grouse, which he disperses on all sides. 
 At racehorse speed he rushes wildly on with 
 gleaming teeth and red tongue hanging out. 
 A pious old woman, who, clad in long black 
 shawl, hoots ^ and quaint headdress, is making her 
 way across the moor to some religious meeting 
 at the kirk, exhibits much consternation as the 
 fierce-looking thing charges past her. 
 
 Not a very good beginning this to a day^s 
 shooting, nor one of those incidents which tend 
 to make one shoot straight. Donald whistles 
 vigorously without avail, and when he sees the 
 grouse get up, says uncomplimentary things of 
 Pat in Gaelic. 
 
 Meanwhile, Nelly, the bitch, apparently obli- 
 vious of the conduct of her bad brother, has 
 been working slowly but very surely, and drawn 
 on a snipe, over which she is patiently standing, 
 looking round at us occasionally, as if to say — 
 
 'Why trouble yourselves about that silly fellow ? 
 Come and shoot what I have found for you." 
 34 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 
 I say she is ' standing over ' ' the snipe ad- 
 visedly, for her one fault is getting too close 
 to her birds. Early in the season that did not 
 matter much, as both snipe and grouse lay like 
 stones, and before the end of it she had found 
 out the impropriety of her conduct. As I come 
 up to her, leaving Donald to go after Pat, she 
 turns a careworn, anxious face towards me, which 
 plainly expresses the anxiety she feels lest the 
 snipe should fly before I get within gunshot. 
 
 This dog is, as I said, the exact opposite of 
 Pat. He is as fast and careless as she is slow 
 and sure. He has a low-comedy face, which 
 literally smiles all over. She has a high-bred, 
 refined, delicate, anxious look, as if she regarded 
 life as a very serious matter indeed. He is invari- 
 ably good-tempered ; she is uncertain and snappish, 
 if annoyed or teased. There she stands, carefully 
 watching a snipe, which I can see almost under 
 her nose; and the snipe watches both of us wonder- 
 ingly and in fear, but is so evidently a baby of 
 35 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 a second brood, that I get Nelly to leave it, much 
 to her disgust, and for a few minutes she refuses 
 to work. She has to be coaxed and humoured 
 into a good temper, and, after a few minutes, 
 finds us two grouse, which we kill between us. 
 
 Donald comes up about this time leading 
 Pat, who does not show in the slightest de- 
 gree that he has any sense of his iniquity. 
 Clearly, he is a dog without a conscience, and not 
 of a high order of intelligence. He has to be 
 punished, and with ' war chase ' ringing in his 
 ears he goes off on three legs, one being tucked 
 under his collar. Even now, after he becomes 
 accustomed to the loss of a leg, he ranges too 
 wide for us, and indulges in an occasional chase ; 
 but at first he resents this treatment, by suddenly 
 dropping several times as if to birds, deceiving 
 even Donald himself, who says much in Gaelic. 
 Our cup brims over when Nelly gets demoralised 
 by her wicked brother ; and runs in on a covey 
 of grouse at which we do not get a shot. 
 36 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 Choleric men would probably have tried the 
 effect of a charge of shot into Pat, but it is only 
 his second season, and the early part of that ; so 
 much forbearance is shown, and after a while the 
 order is given to couple him up. A day or two 
 later Donald takes him carefully in hand, with 
 the result that before the end of the year he is the 
 best among the really good dogs in the kennel. 
 
 In the Outer Hebrides a wide ranging, strong 
 dog is essential, as the birds are scattered and lie 
 very close. Wide ranging and strong Pat cer- 
 tainly is, and when, later, under Donald's care- 
 ful tuition, he becomes staunch and steady, he 
 is the very dog for the work. 
 
 A grassy mound, the site of a deported crofter's 
 hut, affords us a dry place for lunch, and we rest 
 for half an hour and watch the solan geese feeding, 
 and the porpoises tumbling in the bay. The 
 dogs squat on their haunches at a respectful dis- 
 tance, and note with interest every particle of food 
 37 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 which enters our mouths. A fragment is thrown 
 to Nelly, who, seeing Pat glancing out of the 
 corner of his eye at her, shows her teeth. 
 
 About two o'clock the two Laveracks are un- 
 coupled, and begin to work beautifully. They 
 were broken by Donald, and obey the slightest sign 
 from him. Spot and Dot are their names. One 
 takes the country for almost a quarter of a mile to 
 the right of us, the other ranges as far to the left. 
 
 Suddenly Dot drops like a stone. 
 
 ' Grouse," says Donald laconically, and we walk 
 towards the dog, who looks round to see if we are 
 coming, but does not move a limb until Donald 
 signs to him to approach the birds. Meanwhile 
 the grouse have threaded their way between the 
 peat hags, and Dot leads us after them with great 
 care, though his body is quivering with excitement. 
 Donald points to the droppings on the ground and 
 whispers — 
 
 ' A large covey." 
 
 Dot now stops and will not budge an inch, 
 88 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 and, looking down, we see a lovely, bright-eyed 
 grouse, squatting by the side of a small clump 
 of heather, from which it is hardly distinguish- 
 able. But a bird on our right gets up first and 
 falls to Gerald, my companion. His shot not 
 only puts up the bird in front of us, but the rest 
 of the covey, two of which we get. 
 
 Still, Dot does not stir, and not until we have 
 reloaded and the game has been picked up does 
 Donald say, ' Hold up.** But even then Dot, who 
 knows his business, does not scamper oft*, but 
 carefully works the ground near at hand, with 
 the result that he finds a close-lying bird, which 
 Gerald shoots. 
 
 ' Did you see Spot ? ' asks Donald. ' She must 
 have found birds, or she would have come up to 
 us. She always backs Dot." She is not to be 
 seen, and Donald, telling us to watch Dot, goes 
 after her. As soon as he is on a slightly higher 
 ground he sees the bitch, holds up his hand, and 
 we hear him cry to steady her. We join him, and 
 39 
 
DAYS IN T H U L E 
 
 there is Spot drawing on to game of some kind 
 two hundred yards or so to the left of us. 
 
 ' Ho ! "* cries Donald. ' Have a care. Spot,' and 
 the bitch hears his voice and stands steady. We 
 hurry over what Mr. Briggs would have called 
 ' rather difficult country,** and as we get up to the 
 bitch, an old cock-grouse appears on the top of a 
 clump of heather and starts running. 
 
 ' He is drawing the covey away,' says Donald, 
 and presently he gets up, nearly out of gunshot, 
 with a twist like a snipe. But it is his last twist 
 in this world, for he tumbles with a broken 
 wing. A small and very scattered covey get up 
 and we kill two more. 
 
 It would be tedious to relate how we shoot a bird 
 here and another there; but there are two in- 
 cidents this afternoon which are worth recording. 
 We are walking towards home, and are forced for 
 a time to work the dogs down- wind. Dot, who is 
 quartering the ground magnificently, suddenly, 
 before he can stop, finds himself in the very middle 
 40 
 
WILD DOGS AND TAME GROUSE 
 of a large covey. Nine out of ten dogs would lose 
 their heads under the circumstances, but he simply 
 drops at once and remains motionless. Five birds 
 get up, but, seeing nothing to alarm them, settle 
 again not more than twenty yards off. The rest 
 of the covey does not stir. Two or three birds 
 are right in front of the dog, and some on each 
 side of him. But there he lies, and enables us 
 to get a right and left at the birds close to him, 
 and also to secure three of those which he had 
 flushed. Those that escape then we follow up, 
 and eventually shoot most of the covey. 
 
 A half-hour later Spot finds a solitary grouse, 
 and stands steadily until we come up. We can 
 see the bird — which is very tame — lying among 
 the short heather about three yards in front of 
 the bitch. It does not get up, and it seems as if 
 the scent suddenly fails, for Spot leaves her point 
 and takes a turn down-wind, apparently thinking 
 the bird has escaped her. Donald is about to 
 throw his whip at the bird to put it up, but we 
 41 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 stop him, being curious to see what the bitch 
 would do ; but though she works towards us 
 several times, and comes within a few yards of the 
 grouse, she fails to get scent of it and eventually 
 Donald kicks it up. It is certainly not a case of 
 the bitch thinking she has done her duty when 
 she has found the bird, and leaving us to do ours, 
 for it is evident that she lost the bird and was 
 eagerly looking for it, working the ground over 
 and over again. As a rule she will never go 
 twice over the same ground, and so finds more 
 birds in a day than the other dogs. 
 
 I forget how many grouse we kill altogether, 
 but it is a fair bag, and includes two blue hares, 
 a rabbit, and some snipe. Though it is in Sep- 
 tember, the birds are still small. In fact, they are 
 not shot at all on that moor until September 1, 
 being little larger than thrushes on the Twelfth of 
 August. All through the season we shoot them 
 over dogs, and very delightful shooting it is, but 
 towards Christmas they get a little wild. 
 42 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 CONJURING SALMON 
 
 IHE Gheira river flows out of a small 
 loch some ten miles from the sea, 
 cuts a very deep, narrow channel 
 through the thick peat, forming at 
 every bend a small pool, where salmon lie late 
 in the season. Then, gaining volume by the ad- 
 dition of many tributary burns, it spreads some- 
 what, rippling over a rocky bed, until it comes 
 within sight of the Bay, when, leaving the higher 
 moors, it descends through a narrow gorge by a 
 series of leaps — resting between each in a swirling 
 pool — and finally calms down, as it winds through 
 the flat alluvial lands below, and mingles its peat- 
 stained waters with the billows of the Minch. 
 43 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 While awaiting spates, salmon and sea-trout 
 collect in the tidal portions (or 'flats,' as they 
 are called), the trutta giving very fair sport. 
 Sometimes the salmon, on which it is said the 
 crofters levy a heavy toll, rise to the fly, but that 
 does not often happen on the flats. With the 
 first July spate the fish push up into the series of 
 rockbound pools caused by the somewhat abrupt 
 descent of the river from the moor, and here they 
 mostly stay until the middle or end of August, 
 fresh fish joining them from time to time. 
 Gradually a few begin to work higher up the 
 stream, some, perhaps, even reaching the loch. 
 
 By degrees the pools in the gorge become un- 
 tenanted, the fish crowding into the highest and 
 largest of the series, where the bulk of them wait 
 until nature's promptings and a September spate 
 send them rollicking up towards the spawning- 
 grounds. Then it is that the narrow, deep runs 
 between the high peat banks, three or four miles 
 below the loch, become well stocked with salmon, 
 44 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 and, given a good rough wind to stir up the 
 surface of these sheltered waters, the angler who 
 ascends the river so far is often well rewarded. 
 
 An unusually fine take of salmon was made by 
 Vernon, my host, from the largest pool of the 
 lower or gorge series. The circumstances under 
 which the fish were caught were remarkable. 
 When the river was very low the stones at 
 the bottom of the pool caused a break on the 
 surface, and when very high, a strong stream 
 swirled and eddied in pleasant fashion. But 
 when the height of the water was neither high 
 nor low the greater part of the pool was calm as 
 any mill-pond. 
 
 The pool was at its calmest when Vernon made 
 his big take. The atmosphere was dull and 
 heavy, and the sky was hidden by leaden- 
 coloured clouds. There was an air from the 
 south-west, and a slight drizzle of rain fell 
 almost unceasingly ; but there was neither rain 
 nor wind sufficient to ruffle the surface of 
 45 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 the water. The pool was alive with fish. There 
 was hardly a salmon to be found in the river 
 below, and there was not sufficient water to 
 carry the fish to the higher pools. 
 
 This was Vernon'*s first season with the sal- , 
 mon, but he had learned the importance of 
 using fine tackle and small flies in calm water. 
 He fished with a small Laxay at the end of a 
 lake-trout cast, and very soon had a salmon take 
 the fly under water. Others followed, and at the 
 end of the day he had killed eight salmon of the 
 usual Hebridean size, six of which were females. 
 
 Every fish took under water, and Vernon found 
 that the best plan was to make no attempt to 
 work the fly, but merely to cast it to the other 
 side of the river and let the stream bring it 
 round. The fish, for some reason or another, 
 were undoubtedly taking in extraordinary fashion 
 that day, not only in the Gheira but in other 
 rivers in the island, as we afterwards heard. At 
 the same time, Vernon owed much of his success 
 46 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 to his delicate casting, for a lady who fished the 
 same pool did not have a rise, though using the 
 same fly and a fine cast. It was a most credit- 
 able performance for a man in his first season on 
 a salmon river. A day or two later there came 
 a series of spates, and the few remaining fish left 
 their quarters for the higher pools. 
 
 My first visit to the upper reaches of the 
 Gheira river was made too early in the season. 
 There had been a series of spates, and the 
 fish having had every opportunity of running up, 
 Donald, the head-keeper, thought that a par- 
 ticular pool, named after one Joanna, a luckless 
 crofter lass, might be worth a trial. Joanna, 
 poor girl, when bearing a heavy creel of rushes 
 on her back with which to mend the roof of her 
 summer shieling, slipped into the river and was 
 drowned. The fate of Joanna is remembered, 
 but the name of the spot has been corrupted to 
 ' Johnnie's pool/ 
 
 47 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 We, that is to say Miss Falconer, Frith, 
 and myself, made an early start, and, by delay- 
 ing not to fish on the way, arrived at the 
 scene of Joanna's tragedy before eleven o'clock. 
 Frith fished the pool, and hooked a large sea- 
 trout which went off with the fly, thanks to a 
 badly-tied knot. Miss Falconer whipped the 
 river for brown trout, and I tried two pools 
 below Johnnie's, named respectively the Major's 
 and the White Bow pool. 
 
 Imagine if you can a sluggish stream of very 
 dark, peat-stained water, about four feet in 
 depth, some twelve feet in width, and perhaps a 
 hundred and fifty yards in length. No ripple of 
 any kind or sort, except when a gusty, shifty wind 
 occasionally hit the surface of the water. About 
 as unlikely a place for salmon as I ever saw, and 
 not easy to fish. That was the Major's pool, 
 which, to a certain major and other gallant 
 anglers, had on occasions yielded as many as five 
 salmon in a few hours. 
 
 4>8 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 Below this peculiar pool or, rather, minia- 
 ture reach, the river took some very sharp 
 S-shaped turns. It was there even narrower 
 than the scene of the major's exploits, but, as 
 I afterwards proved, a first-rate place for salmon, 
 though terribly difficult to work properly, for 
 the banks were high and fringed with flowering 
 reeds, and one had to cast a long line to keep 
 out of sight of the fish. 
 
 On that particular occasion the Major and 
 the White Bow produced nothing. Frith having 
 worked up the river, I tried Johnnie's pool, 
 and rose a large fish twice, though the sur- 
 face was calm as a plate-glass shop-window. 
 He would not come a third time. After lunch, 
 Donald took my rod for a few minutes and 
 hooked a salmon, which broke away. But, if the 
 salmon were not in the humour, the brown trout 
 were most voracious. Frith and I each caught 
 exactly thirty-three, running about four to the 
 pound mostly, but including a few half-pounders. 
 49 ' D 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 These little fellows, which were all caught inci- 
 dentally, seemed to think nothing of almost 
 gorging a small Laxay. 
 
 Early in the afternoon we commenced to work 
 homewards, fishing as we went, and hoping for 
 kind fortune to favour us in the lower pools. 
 About three o'clock Miss Falconer said she would 
 like to try to catch a salmon, so I lent her my 
 rod. We had just come to three small rocky 
 pools, each a few feet above the one below^ As 
 Miss Falconer made her first cast into the centre 
 pool there was a welcome swirl, but a too hurried 
 strike disappointed both the fish and the angler. 
 The fish was given a rest, and then rose again, 
 but very short indeed. Miss Falconer was a little 
 excited, and we had some difficulty to induce her 
 to still further rest him. The third trial seemed 
 likely to prove a failure, for a dozen or more casts 
 were made without success, but suddenly the line 
 tightened — the fish had seized the fly under water. 
 
 He was a lively fellow, and Miss Falconer, being 
 50 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 most anxious not to lose her first salmon, played 
 him skilfully, but at the same time so delicately 
 that he had a little too much his own way. How- 
 ever, after a visit to the pool above and another to 
 the pool below, he returned to his starting-place, 
 and showed signs of being about played out. But 
 he was a wily fish, and just as Donald was ap- 
 proaching with the landing-net all motion sud- 
 denly ceased, the line remaining tight. There 
 was a large stone, its top showing above the 
 water some five feet from the bank, and under 
 this the salmon had wriggled just like any eel. 
 
 We waited for five minutes or so. Miss 
 Falconer anxiously holding the rod with line 
 taut and ready to put on strain immediately the 
 fish moved. Donald jumped on to the stone 
 and poked about with his stick, with * which he 
 was able to touch the bottom. He opined that 
 the fish was off and had left the fly fixed in a 
 rock. Then I took his place, borrowed his stick, 
 and felt gently down the line, tracing it to a 
 51 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 small hole under the stone. Clearly the salmon 
 had gone to earth like any fox, but it seemed not 
 improbable that he had passed under the stone 
 and out the other side, leaving the fly fixed. 
 Just as I was coming to DonaWs opinion, I felt a 
 slight tremor on the line, and made up my mind 
 that, after all, the fish was on. 
 
 We had no gaff with us, and I sighed for one 
 of those little hooks with which congers and 
 lobsters are inveigled out of holes on the Welsh 
 coasts. But with us was a middle-aged man, 
 one of the river- watchers, who had joined us on 
 our way down, and he proved a very conjurer of 
 fish — better than any gaff or conger-hook. A 
 capital fellow was Kennie, but as a boy, so the 
 story went, he was the terror of every game- 
 keeper in the district, and as much at home in 
 the river as out of it. He commenced by being 
 a fisherman-crofter, like most of the men in the 
 island, but his boat was wrecked and he was all 
 but drowned, so, having a wife and a family to 
 5S 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 support, he was thankful when Donald very 
 judiciously made him river- watcher. He was a 
 
 'did I EFFER POACH A SAUMON ? — OH, AY ! 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 merry little man, notwithstanding his misfortunes, 
 with bright, twinkling black eyes, an intelligent 
 face, and no English to speak of, which made 
 conversation with him difficult. 
 
 I took Kennie's photo one day. It was no 
 difficult matter to get him to look pleasant. 
 
 ' Did you ever poach a salmon, Kennie ? ** I 
 queried, as I pointed the Kodak at him. 
 
 ' Did I efFer poach a saumon ? — oh, ay ! — ' and 
 he stopped to consider the most judicious reply, 
 or, perhaps, how to express himself in English. 
 The camera meanwhile made its record. " 
 
 As soon as I gave out that the salmon was 
 still at the end of the line, Donald and Kennie 
 confabulated in Gaelic. I was watching the 
 line anxiously when Miss Falconer said suddenly, 
 ' Oh, how very annoying ! ' put the rod into 
 my hand, and beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 I was momentarily puzzled, but, looking round,, 
 saw that Kennie, who had retired a few yards 
 away, had taken off his coat, and was unbuttoning 
 54 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 his braces. I confess that I, too, misinterpreted 
 these movements, but after various manoeuvres 
 with his nether garments which need not be 
 described in detail, it came out that the man''s 
 only anxiety was for the dryness of his shirt- 
 tails, which he tucked up under his waistcoat. 
 
 With clothing in decent order he and Donald 
 walked into the water to attempt the overturning 
 of the stone, and Miss Falconer was called back 
 to hold the rod until the bitter end, which she 
 was very anxious to do. But the end was not 
 yet, for the stone refused to be moved. Donald 
 next tried to get his stick under it, but that 
 caused a further retreat of the fish into its 
 stronghold by about six inches. Still, it was 
 something to feel the fish move. Then Kennie put 
 his arm under, but failed to touch the fish, and 
 there seemed as if nothing more could be done. 
 
 We looked blankly at one another. Was it 
 possible that four men and a woman could be 
 beaten by a salmon well-hooked and lying under 
 55 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 a stone within five feet of them ? Should we, 
 after all, be obliged to break the line and go 
 home salmonless ? 
 
 ' If he canna get him, no one can,** said Donald, 
 pointing to the watcher, who grinned at the com- 
 pliment. 
 
 ' Try once more, Kennie,** said I ; ' you must 
 have put your hand within an inch of the fish/ 
 
 ' Oh, ay,** said Kennie, and finished his sentence 
 in another tongue. He made one more deter- 
 mined effort, regardless of the dryness of his 
 cherished shirt, suddenly exclaimed something in 
 Gaelic, and jumped out on to the bank. ' He 
 felt the fish,'' explained Donald, and I fell a-won- 
 dering why, if he felt the fish, he should leave it 
 in such a hurry. But Kennie knew what he was 
 about, and there followed the smartest conjuring 
 performance I had ever seen. Never did Herr 
 Soandso or Professor Thingumi produce a pumpkin 
 from an old gentleman's hat with greater dexterity 
 than did Kennie — but I must not anticipate. 
 56 
 
CONJURING SALMON 
 Quickly rolling up his blue serge trousers, he 
 whipped off the piece of tanned cod-line which 
 did duty for garter, and bent a running noose, 
 which he slipped over his left wrist. Then he 
 rushed into the river, and, with a glorious disre- 
 gard of wet shirt, bent down until his face touched 
 the water, and groped with both hands under the 
 stone. A second or two later he suddenly hauled 
 out the salmon by the cod-line, the noose round 
 its tail, and flung it on the bank. Even then we 
 nearly lost the fish, for the bank was sloping. 
 But we all flung ourselves upon the unfortunate 
 creature, and somehow or other worked it into the 
 landing-net and carried it in triumph up on to 
 the heather. And all this time the hook held. 
 
 Kennie, beaming, came up out of the water, 
 and was warmly praised and rewarded ; but when 
 I asked him if he had ever landed a fish that 
 way before he said nothing, but looked volumes. 
 
 The noose is often used by Hebridean fish- 
 poachers. One end of the line they fasten 
 57 
 
DAYS I N THULE 
 
 to their waist, and with the noose over the 
 left wrist, walk in and search under well-known 
 and shelving-rocks for salmon. On feeling 
 one they work the noose from their wrist over 
 their hand, and gently insinuate it over his tail, 
 then calmly walk out, sometimes in sight of a 
 watcher on the hill-top, who does not see the fish 
 dragged along the ground. Even if he does sus- 
 pect anything the men are hidden in a gully 
 among the peat bog in a second, and the ground 
 is so broken that they can easily escape. 
 
 Miss Falconer was very proud of her salmon, 
 and the little Blue Doctor with which it was 
 caught forms the decorative part of a brooch, and 
 is among her most cherished possessions. 
 
 58 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 DUCK, PLOVER, AND SNIPE 
 
 s UCK, teal, and widgeon were anything 
 but plentiful on the moors shot 
 over by the tenants of Gheira 
 Lodge, and for this reason, perhaps 
 (such is human nature), the greatest anxiety was 
 exhibited by some of us to shoot them. Several 
 long fruitless tramps to distant lochs were under- 
 taken after phantom flocks of wildfowl, and the 
 more enthusiastic among us hid in ' demned moist 
 unpleasant ' places about nightfall in hopes, which 
 were invariably disappointed, of shooting the 
 birds during their evening flight. 
 
 There was, however, one place where some very 
 fair shooting might be had, but only lasting, at 
 59 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 most, an hour. At the bottom of a deep valley 
 lay two lochs, one round, the other an irregular 
 oval. Originally they doubtless formed one sheet, 
 but the level of the water fell, and at the time 
 we made their acquaintance they were some fifty 
 yards apart, a tiny brooklet trickling from one to 
 the other through a grassy bank. The Lochs of 
 the Mill (or its Gaelic equivalent) they were 
 called, but not even the ruin of a mill remained. 
 Containing extensive reed-beds, they were much 
 frequented by duck and other wildfowl, which, 
 when disturbed in one loch, had the amiable and 
 praiseworthy habit of simply flying to the other, 
 usually passing over the grassy bank above men- 
 tioned. This bank was not more than 20 yards 
 in width. In the moor, which rose sharply on each 
 side, deep gullies cut by the winter rains afforded 
 splendid natural ' butts ' for the wildfowler. 
 
 Quietly and cautiously we used to steal down 
 between the peat hags and take up our positions 
 by the side of the grassy bank. A gillie would 
 60 
 
DUCK, PLOVER, AND SNIPE 
 then be sent to the reed-beds in one of the lochs 
 to shout and disturb the birds. Some days the 
 duck were in a restless humour and flew right 
 away, but usually they showed a strange reluct- 
 ance to leave the spot, and came flying rapidly 
 towards the other loch, in which case one at least 
 of us had an opportunity of emptying a couple 
 of barrels. Even after we had fired, a few birds 
 would occasionally alight in the reed-beds, and 
 after a little while allow themselves to be driven 
 back again. Certainly I never met more accom- 
 modating ducks. 
 
 In the Lews the chances of finding the birds 
 on any particular loch depend in a great measure 
 on the height of the water, which, in that land of 
 sudden rainstorms, is apt to vary rapidly and 
 considerably. The lower the water the more 
 cover of course there is for the birds. Sometimes 
 a loch might be so full that only a few inches of 
 reeds showed above the surface, and there was 
 practically no available cover. In lochs other 
 61 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 than the two once utilised by the ancient Hebri- 
 dean miller, the duck were not by any means 
 accommodating, and it used to be a most difficult 
 matter to get a shot at them. I am referring to 
 the autumn : in hard weather they would of 
 course be less shy. 
 
 When walking over the moor one day, rod in 
 hand, testing a number of rarely-fished lochs, I 
 happened upon a great flock of wild geese feeding 
 on an islet in a loch, the shores of which were 
 mostly composed of fragments of white quartz 
 very different to anything else I had seen in the 
 island. Another day a pair of great northern 
 divers flew over our heads carrying fish from the 
 sea to their young. The two most noteworthy 
 birds I saw were a white eagle and a snow- 
 bunting. 
 
 Golden plover were as plentiful as ducks, and 
 other waterfowl were scarce, but I did not see a 
 single lapwing. After the crops were cleared, 
 great flocks of golden plover came down to feed 
 
DUCK, PLOVER, AND SNIPE 
 on the crofts, and were usually to be found on the 
 crofter's strips of land or on the meadows near 
 the lodge. Failing these two places, they were 
 probably feeding on the flats by the mouth of the 
 river. These birds were often almost unapproach- 
 able, but occasionally they would let one walk 
 straight up to, or rather a little to one side of 
 them, and get within gunshot, particularly if they 
 were feeding on the grass. This doubtless hap- 
 pened when they were fatigued after long flights. 
 
 We used to kill many plover by hiding behind 
 stone walls or banks and waiting for them. If 
 they did not see us when we fired, they would, as 
 often as not, fly over our heads a second time, 
 so it was well to reload quickly. During the 
 season we shot a goodly number of these birds, 
 but more would have been killed if the ploverists, 
 to coin a new word, had gone out by themselves, 
 and not in parties of three or four. It is diflicult 
 to arrange a golden-plover battue. 
 
 On the large tracts of land devoted to peat- 
 63 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 cutting — black, unfertile, desolate-looking places, 
 we rarely found game of any kind. Doubtless 
 the birds were disturbed by the women and 
 
 * BLACK, UNFERTILE, DESOLATE-LOOKING PLACES. 
 
 children who, after the peat cocks (if I may use 
 
 the term) were dry, carried their invaluable and 
 
 pleasant fuel to the stacks by their cabins. 
 
 64 
 
DUCK, PLOVER, AND SNIPE 
 Perhaps, too, there was little food for wildfowl 
 in such places. 
 
 Those most wily of feathered creatures, the 
 curlews, were sometimes seen. I could have shot 
 many of them when I was salmon-fishing had my 
 rod been a gun. Whenever we were ready for 
 them they kept well out of range. Wise birds ! 
 We did not shoot or even get a shot at one 
 during our three months'* sojourn on the moor, 
 but we made no great efforts in that direction. 
 
 The tender, juicy snipe of Thule are a pleasant 
 memory. The principal snipe bog was a strip 
 of land a quarter of a mile wide, let us say, 
 by about two miles in length. It stretched along 
 the coast on the tops of the cliffs at a consider- 
 able height above sea-level. One hardly expects 
 to find snipe bogs on cliff-tops, but there are many 
 curious things in the Lewis. One great charm 
 about that bog was its position so near the lodge. 
 When there was no time to fish salmon or to go 
 after grouse, or to launch the boat, one could 
 65 E 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 always slip a few cartridges in one''s pocket, let 
 loose Nelly or Dot, and perhaps within ten min- 
 utes kill a snipe — possibly two. Indeed, the 
 former tenant actually kicked one up and shot it 
 as he was walking from the lodge to the kennel, 
 a distance of forty yards. 
 
 Certainly it was an unfortunate thing for the 
 snipe that they had made their quarters so near 
 us. Most of them, I fancy, were home-bred birds, 
 but there must have been not a few strangers as 
 well, for however many we shot, their numbers 
 never seemed to be any the less. Whatever day or 
 whatever time we walked that bog the dogs were 
 certain to find snipe for us. Of how many places 
 in either England or Ireland can this be said ? 
 
 First one would come upon a moist place, 
 let us say, covered with rank grasses, rushes and 
 moss, then the land would rise slightly and we 
 would find ourselves on dry, heather-covered 
 moorland. Then at the bottom of the slope 
 there would be more soft places. Moorland and 
 66 
 
DUCK, PLOVER, AND SNIPE 
 bog alternated quickly, and this was perhaps the 
 reason why the snipe were always at home. In 
 Ireland I have often noticed that some days the 
 snipe are on the moors, on others in the bogs. 
 Here the birds had both moist feeding-place and 
 dry cover at hand, so became nice agreeable stay- 
 at-home creatures, always ready when wanted. 
 
 While after snipe we often happened on grouse, 
 blue hares, and rabbits. This increased the plea- 
 sure of shooting along the clifF-tops, though it 
 rendered the question of the best-sized shot to 
 be used a difficult one. Some of us swore by 
 No. 6. I, contrary to the opinion of some 
 shooters of experience, believed in having No. 8 
 in my right barrel and No. 6 in my left. 
 
 Right pleasant were the tramps over that 
 moorland bog, particularly when the dogs worked 
 well. They enabled me to thoroughly under- 
 stand the enthusiasm of old-fashioned sportsmen 
 over their setters and pointers. I am in full sym- 
 pathy with them. To my mind the use of well- 
 67 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 trained dogs to find the game doubles the 
 pleasures of shooting. Unfortunately one has to 
 go to a place about two centuries behind the rest 
 of Great Britain to obtain an opportunity of 
 working them. 
 
 ^ 
 
 68 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD 
 
 ^ARLY morning fishing does not find 
 great favour with any considerable 
 number of anglers, and is certainly 
 in strong disfavour with the great 
 majority of anglers'* attendants. From the day, 
 some twenty years ago, when a weather-beaten 
 old Thames fisherman assured me that fish never 
 bit in the rain, I have always had the classical 
 grain of salt ready to swallow with any state- 
 ments made by professional fishermen and gillies 
 respecting those habits of fish which would be 
 likely to lead to their own personal inconvenience. 
 Thus it was that, notwithstanding the solemn 
 assurance that the fish in the Gheira river — 
 69 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 whatever they might do elsewhere — never rose 
 before ten in the morning or after six in the 
 evening, I turned out of bed early one glorious 
 day in August last, and, after partaking of a 
 crust of bread and some whisky and milk — the 
 latter doled out by an unwilling* dairymaid, who 
 objected muchly to disturbing the night's cream. 
 — I took my favourite split-cane rod from the 
 long box outside the lodge, and hied me to the 
 waterside. 
 
 Though the morning was glorious in one sense 
 — glorious with brilliant sunlight, — it was any- 
 thing but suitable for salmon-fishing, for there 
 was absolutely no wind. Yet one had not the 
 heart to complain. Crossing the meadows inter- 
 vening between the lodge and the open moor 
 were the cows on their way to be milked. 
 Dewdrops sparkled on each blade of grass, larks 
 flew up at almost every footstep, and just on the 
 edge of the moor a snipe suddenly rose almost at 
 my feet and whizzed away over the valley. Close 
 70 
 
A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD 
 to their homes in the old, unmortared stone walls, 
 rabbits were nibbling the tender grass-shoots, 
 oblivious of the fate they were to meet on the 
 morrow, through the instrumentality of certain 
 newly-purchased ferrets. 
 
 Twenty yards distant, on the top of a heathery 
 knoll, a fine-looking old cock grouse boldly 
 showed himself, with the object, doubtless, of call- 
 ing away my attention from his youngsters, which 
 were crouching in the low covert around him. 
 Hovering in the air were two immense blackback 
 gulls, birds which have the reputation, by the 
 way, of being arrant poachers. " I never saw them 
 destroy anything worthy of preservation, but that 
 proves nothing. 
 
 The river was low, but it held fish — sulky fish, 
 for was it not August ? A walk of a mile brought 
 me sufficiently far from the lodge to commence 
 fishing, but the first pool was too like a looking- 
 glass to be cast over. As I neared the bank 
 gentle swells in the water (some one looking over 
 71 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 my shoulder says this is suggestive of mashers 
 bathing, but anglers well know the sign) going, 
 some in one direction, some another, evidenced 
 the fact that there were salmon in the pool, and 
 that they had seen the angler on the bank. The 
 cast was clearly no use, so I hurried down the 
 river, trying the heads of various pools, where 
 the in-running water gave one some chance of 
 putting a fly over a fish without scaring him. 
 
 Here and there a fish leaped out of the water ; 
 but for nearly two hours none rose at the fly. I 
 had reached the lowest salmon-holding pool on 
 the river, and it wanted five minutes of breakfast- 
 time. That feeling of being superior to one's 
 fellow-men which all early risers feel (provided 
 their early rise is unwonted) had departed, and 
 hopelessness had taken its place. 
 
 ' One cast more for luck, and then home," said 
 I to Kennie, who had joined me. 
 
 The fly went out across to the opposite 
 bank and swung slowly round behind a huge 
 72 
 
A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD 
 
 boulder, rising from the bank on my side of 
 the river, where it was lost to sight. Then sud- 
 denly came a great pull and a splash, the reel gave 
 out that music most pleasant to the angler's ear, 
 and I was firm in a fish, how large or how small 
 could not be said. 
 
 Verily the situation was not by any means 
 a pleasant one, for the mass of rock projected 
 into the river, and I was on one side of it 
 and the fish on the other. Fortunately the line, 
 which was rubbing on the boulder, met no sharp 
 edge, and in a few seconds I was able to scramble 
 over the top of the obstruction, by which time 
 the fish had gone half-way down the pool. After 
 cruising about there awhile, he swam rapidly up 
 to the head again, into the fast-running water, 
 whence I moved him as soon as possible, fearing 
 the line would be cut on the sharp edges of some 
 shelving rock. 
 
 Cunningly he next sought refuge almost under 
 my feet, near the tail of the pool, where the 
 73 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 peat bank overhung, and was lined here and 
 there with a short scrubby growth. As he left 
 this place of danger — that is, dangerous from my 
 point of view — he came close to the surface, and 
 proved to be no monster, but a salmon of no 
 extraordinary dimensions. But though not large, 
 he made up for lack of weight in strength, endur- 
 ance, and cunning, and tried every dodge known 
 to salmon to get free. Jiggering was the least 
 of them, and, as when that happens fish are 
 very often but lightly hooked, I was afraid to 
 put a very heavy strain on him. Once only he 
 leapt, and, finding it was a waste of strength, 
 made no further attempt in that direction. 
 
 A shepherd with two friendly collie dogs came 
 and looked on. Shortly afterwards there ap- 
 peared on the opposite bank another watcher, 
 called Long Kenneth, to distinguish him from 
 the merry little gillie. He sat on the bank 
 complacently smoking, now and again exchanging 
 a word or two of Gaelic with Kennie, who had 
 74 
 
' HE SAT ON THE BANK COMPLACENTLY SMOKING. 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 not much English. It was then about half- 
 past nine, and the fish, though it had been 
 hooked half an hour, showed no signs of giving 
 in, but, perhaps feeling he required a rest, re- 
 tired to the deepest part of the pool and sulked. 
 
 Stoning was of no avail ; but at ten o'clock, the 
 fish having been on an hour, I screwed up some 
 paper into a ring, passed it over the rod and 
 down the line, whence it was carried by the 
 stream over his nose. The paper he objected to, 
 so made a run the length of the pool, jiggered a 
 little, freed himself of the encumbrance, and 
 retired to his lair to sulk as before. 
 
 At half-past ten, along a winding path came 
 a little army bearing rods — two ladies, two 
 knights, and four esquires ; or, in prosaic nine- 
 teenth century language, male and female anglers, 
 a keeper, and gillies. . To these I sent Kennie to 
 beg for food and whisky, and they (the animate 
 ones, not the comestibles) all trooped down to 
 see the performance. 
 
 76 
 
A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD 
 
 After five minutes the ladies expressed their 
 opinion that the delights of playing salmon had 
 been grossly exaggerated by anglers, as all they 
 saw to amuse them was a weary and hungry indi- 
 vidual sitting on the bank with his line appar- 
 ently fastened to the bottom of the river. How- 
 ever, another ring of paper created a ' divarsion,** 
 as Pat says. 
 
 In some ways a good sulk on the part of a fish 
 is not an unmixed evil. It gives rest to the arms, 
 and in this case allowed a famished mortal to 
 partake of whisky and sandwiches with some 
 degree of comfort. In the words of the pro- 
 gramme, there was ' an interval for refreshments.** 
 
 On the curtain being raised, further travellers 
 were sent down the line to the fish, who, also 
 much refreshed, renewed some of his old tactics. 
 I begged the onlookers to go fishing, and not 
 waste their valuable time watching so poor a per- 
 formance ; but no, they would see the end on 't. 
 
 Everything, except eternity and new fashions 
 77 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 in ladies' dress, has an end; but it was not 
 until half-past eleven, some twov hours and a 
 half after he was hooked, that this fish gave in. 
 To the last he fought gamely. The keeper had 
 the gaff, but Kennie, eager to land a fish which he 
 had seen hooked and played, possessed himself of 
 a landing-net, and twice got the salmon half- 
 way in it, only to let him fall out again into the 
 water. 
 
 I dare not write what I said to Kennie, but 
 I had to say it several times (he having, as I 
 have said, but little English) before he would 
 put down the net, with which he was far less 
 handy than with the noose or gaflf*. Then Donald 
 stooped down, and a second later a shapely cock 
 fish, of no great size, lay on the grass. Usually 
 small salmon take, at the outside, a quarter of an 
 hour to kill on light tackle ; but this fish had 
 extraordinary staying powers. It was very 
 lightly hooked by a little piece of skin on the 
 edge of the lower jaw, and would have unques- 
 78 
 
A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD 
 tionably been lost if I had not played him 
 lightly. A lot of pother about a small fish, some 
 may say ; but though small, the creature was a 
 Samson among salmon. 
 
 After a rest and a further incursion into the 
 luncheon basket, I joined the ladies, who had left 
 as soon as the fish was landed, and, after vainly 
 endeavouring to get a salmon on to their lines, 
 returned with them to the lodge. 
 
 In the afternoon it was suggested that the 
 fishing-boat should be launched, and four of us, 
 with a crew of two, sailed out over the spark- 
 ling and lively waters of the bay, lively because 
 at sea there was a breeze which we had not felt 
 on the river. About two miles or so from land 
 we anchored, and, while the others fished with 
 hand-lines, I used a single salmon-gut paternoster, 
 fitted with eyed hooks, a Nottingham reel and 
 line, and a pike rod. 
 
 The baddies bit freely, and as the lug-worms 
 were running short, I began baiting with pieces 
 79 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 of haddock. Presently there came a dead weight 
 and steady strain on the pike rod, and line 
 commenced to run out slowly. Twenty yards ' 
 went off the reel. Then the fish stopped an 
 instant, but soon went on steadily and irresistibly. 
 I suggested cod, and feared halibut. Long Murdo 
 rather thought it was a big dog-fish, but Black 
 Murdo and I doubted this, as dog-fish are more 
 lively than was the one being played. For full 
 twenty minutes he swam slowly about the bottom, 
 then suddenly gave up the ghost, and came to 
 the surface, with much-inflated belly upwards, 
 some distance from the boat. It was a large cod 
 — too large for our landing-net. 
 
 The fish ceased biting, so we weighed anchor, 
 and soon made our landing-place. Of baddies 
 there were forty -four, all in most excellent 
 condition, weighing over J cwt., while the cod 
 weighed 12| lb. Inside him was a haddock, 
 and in the haddock a hook, fastened to a piece 
 of hair snooding. The cod had evidently swal- 
 80 
 
A SULKY SALMON AND A GREEDY COD 
 
 lowed a haddock which had been hooked on 
 some long lines set by crofters near our boat, 
 and had then broken off the snooding, and, 
 in search of further adventures, came across my 
 paternoster, and been caught as related. 
 
 ^ 
 
 81 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 AN ASSAULT ON THE BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 
 CERTAIN Eastern gentleman once 
 described in The Field the sport of 
 dove-shooting, as carried on in the 
 neighbourhood of Alexandria. If 
 I remember aright, a tree on which doves were in 
 the habit of resting in their flight was the chief 
 essential ; under its spreading branches the gunner 
 took his stand, and potted the birds as they 
 alighted. Not a very high form of sport, per- 
 haps, but one in which it would not be difficult 
 to become proficient in a short space of time, 
 and possessing the merit of not conducing to 
 fatigue on the part of the sportsman. 
 
 Probably almost every Englishman who pos- 
 82 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 
 sesses a gun has attempted something of the 
 kind on our _ own shy and ahnost shot-proof 
 wood-pigeons, but comparatively few persons 
 have had the privilege — for I call it nothing else 
 — of shooting the wild blue rocks in their haunts 
 on the rugged coasts of the North of England, 
 Ireland, Scotland, and the Hebrides. 
 
 Putting aside those forms of sport in which 
 there is considerable danger, there is no shoot- 
 ing more exciting or more difficult than that 
 which is afforded by these fast-flying and thickly- 
 feathered little birds. A man who is fairly 
 certain of four out of five snipe will probably find 
 himself at first killing only one or two pigeons 
 out of ten shots, sometimes not even so many. 
 
 The birds fly through the air with extra- 
 ordinary rapidity, and, as they usually dart out 
 of the caves from six to twenty at a time, it is 
 most difficult to single out a bird. It is rare 
 that a shot into the ' brown ' — if such may be 
 said of ^blue rocks' — produces anything more 
 83 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 than smoke and noise. Speaking from my own 
 experience, I should say that nothing is more 
 likely to improve a man's shooting than a week 
 or so devoted to the wild rock-pigeons. The gun 
 must be brought smartly to the shoulder, and 
 must be pointed well ahead of the birds ; and any 
 one who has acquired the habit of taking what I 
 may call a rifle aim will speedily find himself 
 cured. From fifteen to twenty-five yards is about 
 the best distance at which to take these birds, for, 
 if they are allowed to go much further, the shot has 
 little effect on them, unless a stray pellet chances 
 to hit them on a particularly vulnerable part. 
 
 The days we spent cruising along the coast to 
 the northward of Broad Bay I shall long remember 
 as being amongst the most enjoyable of any we 
 devoted to shooting. Once, when half a gale 
 from the west was blowing, it was arranged that 
 while most of our party should drive to a very 
 lovely bay some seven miles distant, and there 
 pass the day shooting rabbits on the rocky sides 
 84 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 
 of the cliffs, or ferreting them out of their bur- 
 rows in the sand-hills, three of us should work our 
 way down the coast, shooting pigeons on the way, 
 and join the others in the evening. We three 
 consisted of Miss Falconer, who loved nothing 
 better than to handle the tiller on these expedi- 
 tions, especially when a little sea-fishing was part 
 of the programme ; Talbot, a first-rate shot, good 
 sailor, and capital companion ; and the writer. 
 
 We were rather late in starting, and the men, 
 though they uttered not a word, were evidently 
 reluctant to go any distance from home on such 
 a wild morning. There was no alacrity shown in 
 getting the boat launched, and it was almost 
 noon before we were fairly under weigh. With 
 two reefs in our lug- sail, we bowled through the 
 water seven or eight miles an hour, but our speed 
 fell off when, having sailed out of the sheltered 
 nook where some herring-boats lay at anchor, we 
 changed our course from east to north, and were 
 sheltered from the strong west wind by the cliffs. 
 85 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 Passing several caves which were not in high 
 favour with the pigeons, we stopped first at two 
 considerable caverns, lofty enough for our boat, 
 mast and all, to enter for some little distance. 
 
 ' THE SHELTERED NOOK WHERE SOME HERRING-BOATS LAY AT ANCHOR.' 
 
 A shout from the men, and a solitary pigeon 
 flew out, at which neither of us fired, expecting 
 others to follow. But, with that exception, these 
 caves were devoid of birds, or, I should say, 
 pigeons, for a cloud of starlings flew out with* a 
 86 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 
 great fluster which caused our guns to go up 
 involuntarily to our shoulders. 
 
 Further northward was an immense cavity 
 in the conglomerate known as the Pigeon Cave. 
 In former times it was, no doubt, worthy its 
 name, but now, owing probably to its being very 
 accessible from the shore, it rarely contains many 
 birds. Here we landed and took our places on 
 the slippery rocks, while one of the men went 
 into the cave. Only two pigeons flew out, and 
 neither of these we killed, though both were 
 feathered. As a matter of fact, it was as yet a 
 little too early to find the pigeons at home, most 
 of them being away feeding. Hearing our shots, 
 the gillie brought the boat round the corner to 
 pick up the dead birds, and picked us up instead. 
 
 We had next to sail across an open bay, and 
 were exposed to the full force of the wind, which 
 came sweeping down a broad valley ; but in 
 about ten minutes we had reached across, and 
 were under shelter of the cliffs, which here were 
 87 
 
DAYS. IN THULE 
 
 lofty, and very rugged and broken. Within a 
 
 few hundred yards were not less than a dozen 
 
 caves, and many fissures and crevices in the rocks, 
 
 nearly, all of which contained pigeons. At this 
 
 spot we comjuenced to have some really good 
 
 shooting. 
 
 The mast and sail having been lowered, we 
 rowed behind a small rocky islet, on which were 
 hundreds of cormorants and other sea-birds, and 
 turned into a small bay, at the end of which was 
 a great cleft in the rocks, commencing below low- 
 water mark and reaching up some forty feet or 
 more. It was a shallow cave, and had to be 
 approached very quietly. As we drew near, two 
 pigeons saw us, and flew out, but did not come 
 within range. Approaching the rocks as closely 
 as we dared, for the swell was considerable, I 
 made the men steady the boat and then shout. A 
 cloud of pigeons darted out. Talbot and I both 
 had a right and left. Two birds fell dead into 
 the water, another was very hard hit, and we 
 88 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 
 picked him up a little further along the coast. 
 A fourth bird shed enough feathers to stuff a 
 pillow (more or less), but beyond effecting this 
 unnatural moult seemed none the worse for our 
 attentions. 
 
 It is very important, when shooting blue rocks, 
 to get all way on the boat stopped before any 
 noise is made, and it should be the particular 
 care of the men to keep the boat in position, and 
 not let it be carried on by wind or tide. The 
 rowers should not be gaping round to see the 
 pigeons fly out, but should give their whole 
 attention to the boat. If there is any way on, 
 the shooter has an additional and unnecessary 
 motion to contend with. The pigeons are mov- 
 ing either to the right or left, the boat rises and 
 falls with the swell, and if you add to these 
 motions an unnecessary forward movement, the 
 chances are very much in favour of the pigeons. 
 ^ While on the practical portion of the subject, I 
 would advise those who shoot blue rocks for the 
 89 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 first time to enforce upon the boatmen the im- 
 portance of not shouting until they are told to 
 do so. The order should not be given until the 
 boat is steady and properly placed, and both 
 guns are ready, with a couple of extra cartridges 
 at hand to go into the chambers immediately 
 after firing. It sometimes happens that a second 
 or two after the first flight of birds one or more 
 pigeons will fly out, and this very often occurs 
 when the guns are not ready for action. 
 
 With regard to the best size of shot, I found 
 No. 5 answer very well, particularly if I did not 
 let the birds go too far, and at short ranges No. 6 
 compassed the death of a good many birds. No 
 doubt larger shot (No. 2 or 8) would kill at 
 longer ranges if a pellet or two struck the bird, 
 but larger shot means fewer shot, and a pigeon 
 forty yards distant may easily be in the direct 
 line of fire, and yet be untouched by a single 
 pellet. But I believe I am correct in saying 
 that if large shot be used, the birds are either 
 90 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 altogether missed or brought down ; if No. 5 or 
 No. 6 be preferred, the great point is to attempt 
 no long shots. 
 
 During the day I went on shore and found a 
 place where a photograph of the boat could be 
 taken. Indeed, fortune favoured me so much 
 that I was able to open the lens at the very 
 moment one of those who were on board fired, 
 and the smoke from the gun is plainly visible. 
 As a rule we had no sail up when shooting, but 
 some ladies had come on board, and had been 
 enjoying a short cruise along the coast. 
 
 Leaving the bay, we rowed along until we 
 came to three very remarkable caves side by side, 
 not a half-dozen yards dividing them. They were 
 deep, and no pigeons were visible, but on a ledge 
 of rock sat three solemn-looking cormorants. In 
 which cave were the pigeons ? If we took the 
 first, the birds might fly out of the third one, and 
 vice versa. Finally, we decided to place the boat 
 at the mouth of the centre one, and take the 
 91 
 
I WAS ABLE TO OPEN THE LENS AT THE VERY MOMENT ONE OF THOSE 
 WHO WERE ON BOARD FIRED.' 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 
 chance of any birds there were in the side caves 
 flying out within gunshot. In this we were 
 unfortunate. The shouts of the men produced 
 nothing, so our fair helmswoman fired a shot 
 into the cave from a rook-rifle we had brought 
 with us for the purpose. The sound of the shot 
 went echoing into the bowels of the earth, and a 
 second later four or five pigeons were seen flying 
 swiftly out of the darkness towards us. Thinking 
 that we should very likely fire at the same birds, 
 I left these for Talbot, who shot one of them. 
 
 As bad luck would have it, there was not a 
 bird in the cave on my side, while from the one 
 on the right flew forty or fifty pigeons, which 
 went away without a shot being fired at them, 
 Talbot having emptied both barrels at the birds 
 which came out of the centre cave. However, 
 there was not much to grieve over, for the pigeons 
 were certain to seek refuge in one of their haunts 
 further northward, and the probability was that we 
 should come across them before the day was over. 
 93 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 About this time, the wind having much in- 
 creased, we had some doubts as to the prudence 
 of joining the rabbit-shooters, who were working 
 the cliffs about two miles distant. We finally 
 decided to keep our appointment, and at the 
 same time avoid any unnecessary danger by 
 landing on the southern side of a certain wave- 
 beaten point, and attain our destination by a 
 walk of a mile or so. 
 
 It would take too much space to describe all 
 the incidents of that day, and the wonders and 
 beauties of that rocky and cavernous coast, 
 which is one of the most remarkable in Great 
 Britain. 
 
 At one spot a great wall of rock reared 
 itself a hundred feet or more above our heads, 
 and at right angles to the line of coast. For 
 some unexplainable reason the wind here changed 
 its direction, and blew right off the face of the 
 rock and against the swell which was break- 
 ing on it. As a result, the sea seemed to 
 94 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 boil, and, though there was no real danger, the 
 situation was not one which a nervous person 
 would have enjoyed. A miniature waterfall, the 
 result of some heavy showers, was pouring down 
 from the top of the cliff, but before it reached 
 the sea the wind caught it up and whirled it 
 hither and thither, letting it fall somewhere or 
 other, I suppose, in the form of fine spray. 
 There was also a good deal of salt-water in the 
 air. 
 
 At the foot of the great rock was a deep 
 cave with a low entrance, into which we had seen 
 several pigeons fly. But it was a difficult place 
 to get at, as, leaving the wild wind and seething 
 sea out of consideration, a rock, about as great as 
 a crofter''s cottage, rose out of the water imme- 
 diately in front of the cave, and on this the sea 
 was breaking. Even when we did get within 
 gunshot of the place, it was next to impossible to 
 keep the boat in position for an instant, the 
 wind was so strong. After two failures the men 
 95 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 managed to hold the boat for a few seconds, 
 during which the rifle was fired to frighten the 
 birds. ' Only one pigeon flew out at first, but 
 Talbot shot it, and the noise of his gun brought 
 out the rest, and I managed to bring one down. 
 
 A little further and we came upon a coal-black, 
 bleating lamb perched on a ledge of rock about 
 20 feet above high-water mark. How it got 
 down there was a mystery ; but one thing was 
 clear, without assistance it could never get up 
 again, nor anywhere but into the sea. It was a 
 nasty place at which to land, owing to the swell, 
 and the rock coming down almost sheer into the 
 water, but the attempt was made, and one of us 
 got the lamb under his arm, and without accident 
 brought it safely into the boat. It was very 
 light, so had probably been some days in its un- 
 pleasant position. Still higher up the cliff* were 
 a ewe and a lamb, both horned and well-bred 
 little Highland sheep. They were in as great a 
 fix as the lamb we had rescued, but we could do 
 96 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 nothing for them from below. A day later they 
 were rescued from above by means of ropes. 
 
 Shortly after taking the coloured passenger on 
 board we rounded a bold headland, and were con- 
 fronted by a magnificent natural monolith rising 
 up out of the sea, majestic and grand. At some 
 past age it was probably connected with the 
 cliifs. Now it stands like a giant sentinel on 
 that ironbound coast. 
 
 As we rested on our oars, admiring this 
 splendid freak of nature, a small flock of pigeons 
 came flying swiftly along the face of the cliffs. 
 Being behind the pillar of rock, we were hidden 
 from them, and they suddenly appeared within 
 easy gunshot. T.'s gun was up to his shoulder 
 in an instant, mine followed, and a second later 
 two birds lay on their backs in the water. The 
 pigeons were flying so fast that there was literally 
 no time to get a second shot. The birds we had 
 killed having been retrieved by means of a land- 
 ing-net — which, by the way, we found most 
 97 G 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 useful, — we tried two or three more blue-rock 
 strongholds, and then, rounding a ledge of rocks 
 which projected some distance into the sea, we 
 came within sight of our landing-place, called in 
 Gaelic, Port Mohr, the said ' big port ' consisting 
 of a stretch of white sand at the foot of the 
 cliffs. 
 
 I thought of that ancient conundrum about a 
 ' heavy swell pitching into a little cove ** on the 
 island which Robinson Crusoe would otherwise 
 have considered to be uninhabited, the conditions 
 were so exactly similar. We ran our boat ashore 
 on the sand, some fisher lads, who had been 
 watching us from the cliff-top, coming down and 
 rendering valuable assistance. But while the 
 little cove received us with open arms, the heavy 
 swell showed a distinct lack of good-breeding by 
 boarding us over the stern and covering our 
 helmswoman with water. 
 
 The little black lamb now led the way up the 
 cliffs, and the boat having, with much labour, 
 98 
 
ASSAULT ON BLUE ROCK STRONGHOLDS 
 been dragged above high- water mark, we fol- 
 lowed up the water- worn precipitous path, and 
 half an hour later fell in with the rabbit-shooting 
 party. They, we found, had lost their ferrets, 
 and spent the day vainly endeavouring to lure 
 down by means of decoys the blue-rocks flying 
 between the cliffs and the crofts, where the grain 
 crops were ripening, a method which is occasion- 
 ally very successful. 
 
 ^ 
 
 99 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 
 JRESH from fishing a trout stream, 
 where every fish was an old ac- 
 quaintance, each pebble a land- 
 mark, and where I knew almost the 
 blades of grass by the river-side, great indeed was 
 the enjoyment of coming to this land of lochs, 
 where on each of a hundred days there was fresh 
 water to be whipped, where trout existed in 
 millions, where the dry fly was unknown and 
 unneeded, and where fish were counted by the 
 dozen rather than by the brace. It was a land 
 of enchantment for the trout-fisher. There were 
 lochs never yet struck by the angler's flies. 
 There were lochs where the fish averaged nine 
 100 
 
THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 
 to the pound, and yet within a few paces were 
 other waters where the fishermen might catch 
 goodly pounders which fought like demons. Then 
 one might fish for other trout as large as the afore- 
 said demons, but which did not fight at all. There 
 were lochs with white-fleshed trout, lochs with 
 pink-fleshed trout, lochs with yellow-fleshed trout. 
 
 The variety offered was bewildering and un- 
 settling. If the fish were taking but badly in 
 Loch Bacabhat, away we were apt to run to 
 Loch an Eoira, not two hundred yards distant, 
 where the trout ran smaller, but rose freer. 
 Returning in the evening we would doubtless find 
 that those who had stayed and persevered at 
 Bacabhat had been rewarded, whilst we had only 
 fingerlings to show for our pains. 
 
 With so many good things to choose from, it 
 will be understood that we were not so active as 
 we might have been in trying the uncertain lochs, 
 those which were not usually fished by the tenants 
 of Gheira Lodge. Thus it happened that Sep- 
 101 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 tember had arrived before we decided to try a loch 
 some three miles distant, which the head-keeper 
 said no one in living memory had ever fished, but 
 which he knew held trout, as once, when resting 
 by its banks after a long tramp over the moor, 
 he saw several good fish rising. Donald, a 
 sportsman to the backbone, was as keen after 
 trout and salmon as he was after grouse, and on 
 that September morning, when we started for 
 Loch an Fheoir Ghrinnabhat, confessed he would 
 rather have been with us than looking after the 
 grouse-shooters. Long Murdo, who went with 
 us, did not know the way, but he was given many 
 directions by Donald, and we took with us a 
 good map and a compass, without which I doubt 
 if we should have found the loch. 
 
 I am glad to be able to give a portrait of 
 our most worthy Murdo. He was an excellent 
 gillie, though somewhat lacking in cheerfulness, 
 the result of having faced death one winter''s 
 night in the Minch, when the boat he was on 
 102 
 
' THE ONE OCCASION ON WHICH I MADE HIM LAUGH OUTRIGHT. 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 foundered. However, he looks sufficiently cheer- 
 ful in the photograph. I believe this was the 
 one occasion on which I made him laugh outright. 
 I would I also had a portrait of Donald, the 
 keeper, who told me of the loch I am writing 
 about. Unfortunately all my ' shots ' at him 
 failed. 
 
 This loch of the Grassy Banks, to give it its 
 English name, lay high among the hills. First 
 we trudged up a green valley, down which 
 trickled a little stream. Snipe rose now and 
 again at our feet, and curlew flew whistling over 
 our heads. Soon we came to an ancient turf- 
 wall, which may have divided the territories of 
 some ancient Hebridean chieftains. The top of 
 it now forms a useful path for anglers going to 
 the loch. 
 
 Up, up we went, and suddenly found our- 
 selves enveloped in mist. This was awkward, for 
 the saddle between the twin tops of a certain 
 distant mountain had been our mark. Fortun- 
 104 
 
THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 
 ately we had the compass, and taking our bear- 
 ings very carefully, we went on and soon struck 
 the lower end of a considerable piece of water 
 known as Loch Langabhat. A little higher and 
 we found ourselves above the mist and in sight of 
 three lochs. These Murdo was able to name, 
 and, thus finding out our exact position by means 
 of the map, we slightly altered our direction, 
 and in about half an hour reached the mysterious 
 loch where living man had never yet cast a fly. 
 At least Donald said so, and I have no reason to 
 think he was mistaken. It was a small loch, 
 perhaps not more than a hundred yards in 
 length, lying in a hollow on the top of the moor. 
 The water was black even for the Hebrides, 
 and appeared very deep. We reached it on the 
 sheltered side and parted, Westbury, my com- 
 panion, going round to the right, I working to 
 the left. 
 
 Knowing that trout, when little fished for, 
 are partial to large flies, I put up a small 
 105 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 salmon fly — a fiery brown, which had answered 
 well on other occasions, and an ordinary lake- 
 trout fly as a dropper. 
 
 Not a rise was to be seen. By the bank on 
 my side the water was absolutely calm, but by 
 making a long cast I could just reach out to the 
 commencement of the ripple. For some time I 
 toiled vainly, casting out as far as possible. 
 Drawing my fly in close to the bank, a large fish 
 of at least 2 lb. swam out and seized it, which so 
 astonished me that I failed to strike and merely 
 ejaculated. That was weak, no doubt, but we all 
 do weak things at times. This incident led to 
 my fishing the water close to the banks, and 
 there, not four yards away from me, and in quite 
 calm water, I rose, hooked, and landed a fish of 
 over a pound. 
 
 But what a fish ! In the words of Long 
 Murdo, the gillie, its back was 'black as tar." 
 Its belly was yellow, and its side bore a num- 
 ber of enormous spots. Never did a fish play 
 106 
 
THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 
 less, and others we caught there played equally 
 badly. From this I concluded that the trout 
 were allold. 
 
 At the tail of the loch was a great bank of 
 mud covered with moss and forming a natural 
 dam. Through this a little water filtered into 
 a tiny burn, which seemed to rise at the foot 
 of the bank. A man by working an hour at 
 this bank with a spade could have reduced 
 the level of the loch by at least four feet. 
 
 There was no burn, so far as I could see, coming 
 into the loch. It was therefore a reasonable con- 
 clusion that the trout which were in the loch 
 when their exit was cut off by the collection of 
 mud and moss, were the very ones we were catch- 
 ing. There was little or no chance for any to 
 breed. In some years, perhaps, a great storm 
 would sweep away the mud-bank, and then some 
 fish would get out to breed and a few fresh ones 
 come in ; but I felt quite sure that the natural 
 dam I saw had existed for ten or fifteen years, 
 107 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 which would account for the peculiarities of the 
 trout. Had there been breeding-grounds, and 
 more fish in the loch, they would certainly have 
 run much smaller. 
 
 I soon worked round to where Westbury was 
 fishing, and found he had caught one trout of fib. 
 The rise appearing over, we decided, perhaps not 
 very wisely, to try a loch we could see about a 
 quarter of a mile distant. To get to it we had 
 to cross some curious country, through which the 
 rain had cut numbers of gullies, five feet or more 
 in depth in the soft peat. An old cock grouse 
 flew up with a whirr, and gave us a crowing wel- 
 come as we neared the loch. There seemed no 
 fish moving, so we decided that lunch should be 
 the next operation, after which we proceeded 
 to fish Loch Cooish — I spell the word phoneti- 
 cally — or, the Loch of the Ear. 
 
 The water was very much lower than in the 
 other loch, and the peat-banks rose about 
 four feet in height, and were much undermined 
 108 
 
THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 by the waves of the winter storms. The loch 
 did not seem more than a few feet in depth 
 anywhere, and there was an abundance of pale 
 green grass-like weed, by the sides of which I 
 rose several fish. The bottom was partly gravel 
 and partly rock. W. and I separated as before. 
 
 In about half an hour I caught nine fish, which 
 averaged a little over a third of a pound, but 
 never in my life have I seen more lovely trout. 
 They were as beautiful as the others were ugly. 
 Short, thick fish, with silvery sides and brownish- 
 pink backs. No two of them were spotted alike. 
 Had I not seen char in other waters. I might 
 have thought they were not trout at all. One 
 half-pounder I caught ran quite ten yards of line 
 off the reel as soon as hooked, and fought like a 
 sea-trout. 
 
 It was interesting to compare the play af- 
 forded by these little fish with that of the 
 large trout in the lake we had left. Not one ot 
 the latter, though going up to 2 lb., took an 
 109 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 inch of line off the reel. In the Loch of the 
 Ear the trout rose fitfully. Now and again there 
 were showers, and just before the rain we were 
 sure of a few rises. These fish knew no fear. 
 Like the others, they seized the artificial insects 
 in perfectly calm water, and I did not see a rise 
 except to my flies; possibly because there was 
 nothing else to rise at. 
 
 About two o''clock we left this beautiful water 
 with some regret, so as to have an hour or two 
 at the big trout of Ghrinnabhat. This time we 
 stuck to the sheltered side of the loch, and fished 
 close to the bank in calm water. I had on a 
 large soldier palmer, and I found this a very 
 good fly. In the course of an hour we took 
 seven good trout, mostly over a pound, and one, 
 as I have said, of 2 lb., which was caught by 
 Westbury. For a short time I tried a Devon 
 minnow, tliinking it might lure a very large fish, 
 but I did not get a run with it. I do not think a 
 single fish was taken more than three yards from 
 110 
 
THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 
 the shore. In most instances we saw the fish 
 swim out from under the bank and take the fly. 
 
 I have often heard gillies say that in little-fished 
 lochs the trout rise close to the bank, but that 
 after the water has been whipped a few times it 
 is necessary to cast further out for them. As to 
 this, it may be remarked that a good deal must 
 depend on the depth and configuration of the 
 bottom of the loch. 
 
 About five o'clock we had to leave, as it was 
 absolutely necessary to be off the moor before 
 nightfall, owing to the walking being in places 
 dangerous. We soon reached Loch Laugabhat 
 and found it a large but very shallow piece of 
 water, the depth of which had evidently been 
 artificially lowered. I took a few casts, but rose 
 nothing. At that time of year it should have 
 held some sea-trout, being connected by a burn 
 with a considerable river. It was a loch which, 
 by a little engineering, might be used to create an 
 artificial spate in the salmon-river. At one end rose 
 HI 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 abruptly a great rock, and round its shores were 
 dotted the shielings used by the milk-girls when 
 the cows are kept on the moor in the summer. 
 A very picturesque spot. 
 
 After leaving this last of the three lochs which 
 we fished that day, we made our way down a 
 valley, and came to some very boggy ground, in 
 the centre of which was a small water-hole, 
 measuring perhaps eighteen yards by three. The 
 water was almost level with the moor. In the 
 centre was a clump of rushes. Playing over it was a 
 cloud of midges, and I saw what I at first thought 
 was a dimple in the water, caused by a bubble of 
 gas, rising from the muddy bottom. ' But the 
 dimple was repeated not once, but twice. 
 
 ' Surely never a trout in a spot like that ? ' I 
 said. 
 
 Westbury laughed, and the gillie went on, 
 
 little thinking any one would cast a fly in such 
 
 a place. But my rod was still up, and it did 
 
 not take a moment to release the cast which 
 
 112 
 
THREE LOCHS AND A PUDDLE 
 
 was wound round it. The tail fly was a 
 very large Zulu, and this I lightly let fall on 
 the water where I had last seen the dimple. 
 In a moment a fish had it, and without attempt- 
 ing to play him I whipped out on to the bank 
 a plump trout of over half a pound. I tried the 
 water all over, but seemed to have caught its sole 
 occupant. 
 
 It was the last place in the world to expect 
 a trout, but it must be remembered we were in 
 a land of underground burns. 
 
 ' Why, the very puddles grow trout ! ' exclaimed 
 Westbury. 
 
 Even this slight delay had been dangerous, for 
 daylight was failing as we struck the old peat- 
 wall. By the time we reached the green valley 
 which had seemed such pleasant walking in the 
 morning it was nearly dark, and we found it most 
 difficult to avoid being bogged. By the kennels 
 was Donald, anxiously waiting to see what we had 
 brought from the loch of which he considered 
 113 H 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 himself the discoverer. I could not resist sayings 
 ' You sent us on a fooFs errand, Donald,'' but his 
 face showed such great disappointment, that I at 
 once lifted the lid of the creel, and the sight of 
 the good fish therein made his face light up in a 
 wonderful manner. 
 
 The trout were duly weighed, and so ended 
 one of the most interesting and instructive day's 
 fishing I have ever had in my life. 
 
 114 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 • SALMO IllllITANS ** AND HIS VANaUISHMENT 
 
 J HIS variety of the salmon family, 
 though not mentioned in any ich- 
 thyological work, is one with which 
 many anglers are, unfortunately for 
 themselves, only too well acquainted. When these 
 fish rise the day is not marked with a red letter, 
 but rather with a ' big, big D,** inscribed in the 
 blackest ink. With the number of their fin 
 rays and pyloric appendages, with the shape of 
 their operculum, and with the exact position 
 of their dorsal fin, the readers of these veracious 
 lines need not be troubled, for in the follow- 
 ing account of one day''s salmon-fishing Frith 
 and I had on the Gheira river, the distinguish- 
 115 
 
DAYS INTHULE 
 
 ing characteristics of the variety are sufficiently 
 
 evident. 
 
 Hitherto sport had been anything but bad. 
 Eight salmon which had risen to my fly had 
 been duly creeled without disaster, and when one 
 morning, after a trivial six- days' drought, Donald, 
 the keeper, sent in word that there was a ' right 
 spate "* in the river, and that ' she ** would fish 
 well, our hopes were raised to the highest. We 
 were then at the period of spring tides so favour- 
 able to a good run of fish, and salmon and sea- 
 trout in plenty had been seen leaping in the bay. 
 So we rejoiced, ate our breakfasts hurriedly, and 
 as soon after as possible, with no forebodings of the 
 evils in store for us, started at a canter for the 
 river, for is it not a tradition handed down through 
 generations of keepers and gillies that the river 
 cannot be fished too early, nor the lochs too late ? 
 but a tradition, by the way, which for some 
 reason or other found little favour at Gheira. 
 
 We reached the waterside shortly after ten 
 116 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 o'clock, and found ' her ' a wee bit dirty, perhaps, 
 but at an exceedingly proper height. 
 
 Up to nearly the middle of September the best 
 pools, which had been improved considerably by 
 succeeding tenants, were those nearest the sea, 
 and in these, under favourable conditions, two or 
 three clean-run, silvery fish, varying in weight 
 from five to ten or eleven pounds, might always 
 be expected. Four of the pools lay in the rocky 
 gorge described in Chapter iv. I took the lowest 
 one, and Frith, my host's brother, took the third 
 from the sea. To get at my water I had to climb 
 a steep bank from which the pool my friend was 
 fishing could be seen. Almost at the first cast 
 he hooked a salmon, and I paused a moment to 
 watch the fun. But there was no fun. At the 
 end of two or three minutes his rod suddenly 
 straightened. The fish, which had not shown 
 itself, was off, certainly not through any fault of 
 the fisherman, who had handled it with great care. 
 
 Then I began to fish, and at about the fourth 
 117 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 cast, in the tail of the run at the head of the 
 pool, a salmon showed itself and seized the fly. 
 Instead of making a rush on feeling the sting of 
 the steel (query, do salmon feel any sting what- 
 ever ?), it lay on the surface kicking and splash- 
 ing, though given every opportunity to descend 
 into deeper water, and at the end of four or five 
 seconds away came the hook. Two salmon lost 
 in the first ten minutes ! We both of us gave 
 the pools a long rest and tried them again, but to 
 no purpose, and finding they apparently contained 
 no more rising fish, went further up the river. 
 Four pools were fished unsuccessfully, and when, 
 about one o'*clock, I waded out to a huge rock in 
 the centre of the river — an excellent cast — it was 
 without any expectation of rising another fish. 
 
 But in angling it is nearly always the un- 
 expected which happens to us. After going 
 twice over the pool, a salmon came at my small 
 Jock Scot from behind two stones which were 
 just breaking the surface of the water near the 
 118 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT. 
 tail of the pool. It was a large fish — that is, 
 large for the river — and, as luck would have it, 
 missed the fly altogether. After the orthodox 
 rest, I tried him again, and as the fly swept into 
 the eddy behind the stones, he came at it like a 
 tiger. But on went the fly into the centre of the 
 pool absolutely untouched. It is small satisfac- 
 tion to write about this irritating fish. Suffice it 
 to say, I devoted an hour and a half to him, tried 
 various flies, and rose him four times, but did not 
 feel him once. 
 
 Frith, who had not been more fortunate than 
 I, now joined me, and we went some distance 
 further up the gorge to the large, lake-like pool, 
 which usually contains several fish when any are 
 in the river. It was the pool from which Vernon 
 conjured his eight fish in the masterly manner 
 already recorded. Frith took one-half of the 
 pool and I the other. There was only a slight 
 ripple on it, so I put up a very small Black 
 Doctor, and two fish, which would not permit me 
 119 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 to hook them, seized the fly very gingerly under 
 water. Having gone over the pool once, we had 
 lunch, fished it again, and had two more short 
 rises from salmon. 
 
 The water, which had fallen considerably, was 
 now too low for us to go higher up the river, 
 and we returned to the pools we had fished in 
 the morning. From the big rock where I had 
 spent so much time earlier in the day I rose 
 another fish — a small one this time — and he, 
 like his irritating fellow, rose as shortly as he 
 came up frequently. Three times did he inspect 
 my fly. Nothing seemed of any avail. Small 
 flies were as futile as moderate-sized ones ; while 
 the larger sizes were of no use whatever. Light 
 or dark, little or big, sober-coloured or gaudy, it 
 was all the same to these peculiar fish. They 
 would not take, though they would rise as 
 frequently as the most exigent salmon - fisher 
 could wish. 
 
 Late in the afternoon we met Vernon coming 
 120 
 
•SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 
 up the river with a man who had just arrived. 
 They had taken a few casts by the way. ' Any 
 luck ? ' I queried. The new arrival looked down 
 at his legs, which were smothered in red mud up 
 to the knees, and drily replied — 
 , 'Yes.' 
 
 He had had one rise — and his luck consisted 
 in walking into a bog which owed its moistness 
 to an iron spring. I much regret I had not the 
 opportunity of Kodaking his dry humorous ex- 
 pression as he regarded the somewhat dainty 
 boots, etc., in which he had been travelling. 
 Being the keenest of the keen where fish were 
 concerned, he had only waited to unpack a rod, 
 and had hurried up the river attired as he was. 
 
 Sometimes I did have my Kodak with me 
 on such occasions, and obtained some very re- 
 markable, if somewhat misleading, photographs 
 with it. ' By the kind permission ** (as the phrase 
 runs) of the originals, I am able to give here 
 a picture taken one day on the moor. It would 
 121 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 be a valuable piece of evidence in a breach of 
 promise case, or an inquisition by the lunacy 
 
 'they do look as if they were dancing a wild jig, don't they?' 
 
 commissioners — they do look as if they were 
 dancing a wild jig, don't they? The whole 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 
 truth, and nothing but the truth, is, that the 
 picture simply represents a very charming young 
 lady being assisted up the side of a gully by a 
 most gallant, attentive and kind gentleman. But 
 revenons a notre Salmo irritans. 
 
 Our friends went a little distance up the river 
 to the big pool, and I thought it might be advis- 
 able, the fish having had a long rest, to take a 
 few more casts from the big rock. To my sur- 
 prise the small salmon, or one about its size, and 
 in the same spot, came again, and actually rose 
 eight times without once touching the various 
 flies I tried over him. This may seem incredible 
 to some salmon-fishermen, but I can only say 
 that I carefully counted the number of rises and 
 have exaggerated nothing. Very much disgusted, 
 we went back to the pools which we had fished 
 in the morning, and there rose two salmon. One 
 of these rose when I was fishing from the high 
 bank some distance above the water, and I could 
 distinctly see that it did not come within a foot 
 US 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 of the fly. In the same pool I managed at last 
 to catch one fish, a fresh-run sea-trout with sea- 
 lice on it. 
 
 On the whole it was a noteworthy day*'s salmon- 
 fishing : ten fish rose to our flies something like 
 twenty-three times, and not one found its way 
 into the creel; and if these fish did not belong 
 to the variety Salmo irr'itans — well, the variety 
 does not exist. On joining our host in the even- 
 ing, we found that during the short time they 
 fished he and the new arrival had similar experi- 
 ences to ours ; one salmon was hooked, but only 
 for a few seconds, and several others were risen. 
 All day long, though the water was falling, fish 
 were running up, and we saw a good many 
 making their way up the various falls below 
 the principal pools. The day was dull, with 
 occasional showers, and wind NW. 
 
 To rise ten salmon in a day without landing 
 one would make any fisherman dissatisfied with 
 his tackle and himself. After mature reflection 
 \M 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS/ HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 I came to the conclusion that ordinary salmon 
 flies were of little use for Salmo irritans^ and that 
 
 'SOMETHING SPECIALLY DIABOLICALi 
 
 for him something specially diabolical must be 
 devised. By the following morning's post dia- 
 grams of flies with most fearful and wonderful 
 double hooks, and carefully drawn-up directions, 
 were sent to Warner's, the Redditch hook-makers, 
 who carried out my orders to the letter. In 
 the meantime the river, of course, more or less 
 dried up. 
 
 It was some time before I had an opportunity 
 of testing the contrivance (to be presently de- 
 scribed) which I had invented to bring about the 
 125 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 destruction of Salmo irritaiis. On the first day 
 that there was a slight rise of water in the river, 
 my friend of the iron bog and I journeyed some 
 five or six miles up-stream (the lower pools being 
 occupied) to fish at Joanna''s pool, which was said 
 to contain several salmon. The day was bright, 
 the higher we ascended the river the lower was 
 the water, and on arriving at our destination we 
 found hardly a ripple on the pool. The outlook 
 was as bad as possible. My friend, using the 
 ordinary flies, did not have a single rise. I put 
 up a fiery brown dressed on the new hooks, and 
 at the very first cast a fish took it under water 
 — a fine hen salmon of 11 Jib., which had been 
 some little time in fresh water, but was still in 
 the pink of condition. I did not get another 
 rise ; but to catch a fish at all under such un- 
 favourable circumstances was very encouraging, 
 and spoke well for the invention. The van- 
 quishment of Salmo irritans had commenced. 
 The day on which the new hooks were most 
 126 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 
 thoroughly tested was at the beginning of Oc- 
 tober, and appeared too bright for successful 
 salmon-fishing. The river had fallen somewhat. 
 Wind NWW., a blue sky, with occasional 
 showers coming over the hills from the Atlantic. 
 Probably, had I not been anxious to utilise every 
 chance of meeting with my old enemy Salmo 
 irritans^ I should have deserted the river for the 
 grouse moor. 
 
 The best pool anywhere near the lodge was 
 being fished by my host, so we (the we consisting 
 of Long Murdo and myself) decided to try some 
 of the higher pools. I may mention here that 
 my host rose six fish or more, but only landed 
 one, so I have some reason for supposing that 
 the fish were rising short. On the way up, 
 Kennie, the river- watcher, joined us, and I was 
 glad of his company, as, being day and night by 
 the river, he knew nearly every fish in every pool. 
 
 On the open moorland, a couple of miles or 
 more from the sea, the river makes a sharp bend, 
 127 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 and by eating into a peat-bank has worked out a 
 fairly deep pool. Here, according to tradition, 
 a former tenant landed eleven fish in one day ; 
 but now the pool has filled up somewhat, and 
 two salmon are the most any one can expect to 
 get out of it. I began fishing at this noted spot, 
 putting up a small fiery brown on the new hooks. 
 But no rise rewarded my efforts, and we passed 
 on to a pool at another bend in the river, where 
 history does not record the capture of a single 
 salmon, but which always holds a fish or two. 
 It would have been all the better for a good 
 ripple, but two big rocks broke the water 
 slightly. 
 
 ' Tell me exactly where the fish lie, Kennie.'' 
 ' Weel, it 's joost there, between the big stones, 
 whatever," replied Kennie ; and sure enough, at 
 the second cast there uprose a salmon, which 
 seized the fly and went away up stream into the 
 pool above. It was an easy matter to follow 
 him, and he should have been killed in ten 
 128 
 
^SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 minutes; but Long Murdo was somewhat un- 
 handy with the gafF, and kept pecking at the fish 
 as if he was using a pickaxe. However, all's 
 well that ends well, and it was no small satisfac- 
 tion to see a fish which had had every chance of 
 escape given it fairly gaffed at last. He was 
 hooked in the tongue. 
 
 Leaving the two pools, we walked about half a 
 mile higher to a small gorge, down which the 
 river makes -^ series of leaps, forming several 
 good casts for salmon. They are known as the 
 Steps pools. I commenced at the topmost one, 
 which was long and narrow; but finding the 
 water too heavy for my small fly, put up one 
 slightly larger and brighter, a Jock Scot tied on 
 one of the new hooks, with the bend the same as 
 before, the shank only being enlarged for the 
 larger fly. 
 
 But even the Jock Scot was too small for 
 the water at this part of the river, and I un- 
 fortunately had on that day no larger flies 
 129 T 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 dressed on the new hooks. So the Steps pools 
 produced nothing, and leaving them, we pushed 
 still further up stream to a small but good hold- 
 ing pool, by the side of which stood the walls of 
 a small shieling. In the Shieling pool there was 
 a salmon — so Kennie the watcher said ; and 
 Kennie was right, for about the second or third 
 cast a very nearly fresh-run fish, which was lying 
 under a projecting rock on the other side of the 
 river, caught sight of my Jock Scot, followed it 
 across the stream, and seized it in shallow water, 
 almost at my feet. Had I not been kneeling, 
 that fish would probably have refused the fly. 
 After some gallant play, it was neatly gaffed 
 by Murdo, and proved to be an almost fresh-run 
 hen. 
 
 Still working up-stream, I fished two other 
 small pools without a rise, and at two o'clock 
 cried a halt for lunch, which we enjoyed in a 
 little heather-grown dell close to the water. The 
 men were some twenty yards distant, and I was 
 130 
 
^SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISH MENT 
 
 eating away in solitary state, when who should 
 pay me a visit but a blue mountain-hare, akin 
 perhaps to those amiable creatures Alice met in 
 Wonderland, which came ambling up in the most 
 unconcerned manner within five yards or so of 
 where I was sitting. Immediately I saw it I 
 remained perfectly motionless, and the hare, 
 having regarded me for a few seconds without the 
 slightest appearance of fear, and without making 
 any audible remark, trotted off quietly and un- 
 concernedly. 
 
 It is very curious how little fear the shyest of 
 wild animals have of human beings so long as 
 they do not move. I have noticed the same 
 thing of fish. Once, when standing on the tow- 
 path of the Thames watching the minnows at 
 play, three great chub, each about 5 lb. in weight, 
 swam up slowly out of the deep water right up 
 to my feet, and began cruising about as if look- 
 ing for food. I remained still for some minutes 
 watching them, but a slight movement of my 
 131 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 hand sent them oft* post-haste to the deep hole 
 whence they had wandered. 
 
 On the way down the river after lunch I tried 
 the Steps pool with a Lion, dressed on rather large 
 double hooks ; but I was punished for deserting 
 the new pattern, which had served me so well. 
 In the lowest of the pools a larger fish rose and 
 missed the fly. After a rest he seized the fly 
 under water, gave a plunge, and was off; My 
 next attempt was made in the pool in which I 
 had begun fishing in the morning. Unfortunately 
 I had kept up the fly dressed on the large double 
 hook (the Lion), and a curious thing happened. 
 
 The fish lie under the far side of the pool, in 
 about four or five feet of water. On the near 
 side the river runs very shallow, and about ten 
 feet from the shore are two small stones, about 
 as big as a horse''s head, which on this occasion 
 just showed above the water. The fly, which 
 had been cast right against the peat bank on 
 the opposite side, had fallen into the water just 
 13^ 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 where I expected a salmon to lie, and slowly 
 swept round with the stream, until the line came 
 over the two small stones just mentioned. Then 
 the fly apparently caught in the stone, and I 
 gave a vigorous flick with the rod to release it. 
 But as it was still fixed in something, 1 tried a 
 somewhat harder flick, then a salmon showed first 
 its head and then its tail out of the water, and I 
 found, to my own and Murdo's very great surprise, 
 that I was fast in a good fish, which showed no 
 inclination to move from behind the stone. The 
 second jerk I had given had been hard enough to 
 drag the fly out of the mouth of any fish which 
 was lightly hooked, and I felt absolutely certain 
 of getting this really fine salmon. 
 
 ' You shall land this one," was my unfortunate 
 remark to Kennie, who was never so happy as 
 when using the gaff*. Was it the remark, or 
 those large double hooks ? It matters little 
 which, for suddenly the fly came quietly away 
 in the most unreasonable and aggravating manner. 
 133 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 The salmon was, I think, a female ; and the 
 moral, of course, is, Never make cocksure of a 
 hen fish. 
 
 Though my Lion was rising fish, I would have 
 no more of it, and put up the Jock Scot dressed 
 on the small-bend, long-shanked double hook. 
 With this, in a pool a little lower down, I 
 hooked a cock fish which, in Kennie's words, 
 was 'as wild as a deer." I killed him half a 
 dozen times over, but every time, as he came 
 just within reach of the gaff, he realised his 
 position and dashed off to the other side of the 
 river. Kennie, who was anxious to distinguish 
 himself, became excited ; and, seeing this, I bade 
 him use a landing-net we had brought with us 
 on the chance of meeting with sea-trout. The 
 end of it was that the fish suddenly bolted down 
 stream, and, passing over a shallow where his 
 back was out of water, Kennie rushed in below 
 him and caught him neatly in the net. That 
 ended the day's fishing. 
 
 134 
 
^SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 
 Salmon-fishers may like to know something 
 further of the peculiar hooks referred to, and for 
 them alone the following lines are intended. I 
 advise every one else to proceed at once to the 
 next chapter. 
 
 The difficulty was to devise a hook which 
 would penetrate and hold on those occasions 
 when the ordinary hook of commerce would 
 merely scratch. In the ordinary salmon-fly the 
 end of the wing and the curve of the hook are 
 about level, so that, to get hooked, the salmon 
 has to take rather more than half the fly in 
 its mouth. I imagined, and have seen no reason 
 to change my belief, that when one feels merely 
 a pluck, the salmon has seized only the latter 
 half of the fly, or less, or the fly has perhaps 
 been properly seized but has been swimming on 
 its side, and thus slipped sideways out of the 
 fish's mouth without the point of the hook com- 
 ing in contact with any part of the jaw. For 
 this evil a double hook seems to be the natural 
 135 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 remedy ; but fish are probably not often lost 
 from this reason if the angler takes every care 
 to see that his cast is straight, especially near 
 the fly, and that his fly swims properly. 
 
 The question with me was how to hook salmon 
 which may seize the tail end of the fly. Clearly, 
 the hook should project beyond the tail of the 
 fly so far that if the fish seized only the tip of 
 the wing the point of the hook would be within 
 his mouth. But clearly, also, the hook must be 
 kept small, for if large it would appear to be a 
 portion of the fly, and the short rising fish might 
 only seize the bend of the hook, or not rise at all 
 to a small fly dressed on a large clumsy hook. 
 Therefore the hook must be small — that is to 
 say, small in the bend, though long in the shank, 
 and not unnecessarily heavy in the wire. 
 
 But inasmuch as a hook with a small bend was 
 
 apt to miss taking hold in a mouth so large 
 
 as that possessed by the salmon, I decided to 
 
 have them made double, but also had some flies 
 
 136 
 
'SALMO IRRITANS; HIS VANQUISHMENT 
 dressed on single hooks to experiment with. As 
 regards these latter, I did not try them on sal- 
 mon,^ but I rose eight sea-trout on them, of 
 which I caught six. Sea-trout are such notori- 
 ous short-risers that for the hook to project well 
 beyond the fly may prove to be a very decided 
 advantage. 
 
 With regard to the new hooks, I rarely used 
 anything else for salmon on the five days I was 
 able to fish after receiving them. I had several 
 flies (Jock Scotts, doctors, lions, fiery browns, etc.), 
 tied in three different sizes, the bend of the hook 
 being kept one size, the shank only varying in 
 length. The makers sent me some flies tied on 
 rather larger double hooks, but, after losing two 
 fish on these, I gave them up for those with the 
 very small bend. The shank of the hook, as I 
 have already said, projected considerably beyond 
 the tail of the flies, and it seemed impossible that 
 
 ^ At least not then. I have killed one or two fish with 
 them since. 
 
 137 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 any fish which seized any part of the fly could 
 avoid getting hooked. In these five days' fishing, 
 when using the long-shanked, small bend, double 
 hooks, I touched eleven fish and landed ten, a 
 result which is, of course, not impossible with the 
 ordinary single hook, but speaks very well for the 
 new shape. 
 
 It is a grand thing to have one's name handed 
 down to posterity as the discoverer of a new 
 member of the Salmonidce family. I first an- 
 nounced the event in the Fields where it created 
 much interest. Men I had not heard of for years 
 wrote to me about the strange fish or the new 
 hooks to catch him with. Some claimed to have 
 discovered him before I was born, but that was 
 mere jealousy, and they produced no evidence. 
 The creature was even glorified (or cussed) in 
 verse, Mr. Andrew Lang writing a short poem 
 on him for the Christmas Number of the Fishing 
 Gazette. Mr. Lang kindly allows me to reprint 
 his amusing verses : — 
 
 138 
 
THE SALMO IRRITANS 
 
 hY ANDREW LANG 
 
 I. 
 A MOST accommodating fish 
 
 Is he who lies in stream or pot^ 
 Who rises frequent as you wish 
 
 At Silver Doctor or Jock Scott 
 
 Or any other fly you 've got 
 In all the piscatory clans ; 
 
 You strike, but ah ! you strike him not : 
 He is the Salmo irritans. 
 
 ir. 
 You give him the accustomed rest ; 
 
 A quarter of an hour or so — 
 And then you cast your very best. 
 
 Your heart is throbbing, loud or low, 
 He rises with a splendid show 
 
 Of silver side and fins like fans. 
 Perchance you think you 've got him ? No ! 
 
 He is the Salmo irritans, 
 
 III. 
 You leave him till the eventide. 
 
 When wandering on by dub and pool 
 A score of other casts you Ve tried. 
 
 All fruitless and all beautiful ; 
 
 139 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 But he still rises_, calm and cool^ 
 Who is not yours^ nor any man's ! 
 
 He leaves you looking like a fool : 
 He is the Salmo irritans. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Prince^ wherefore comes he always short, 
 This demon whom the angler hans ? 
 
 This is his selfish view of sport, 
 He is the Salmo irritans ! 
 
 ^ 
 
 140 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 
 jN some parts of its coast-line the 
 island yields a remarkable variety 
 of sport. The sea swarms with cod, 
 hake, haddock, herrings, and other 
 fish in their seasons ; in the caves and crannies of 
 the coast are great flocks of blue rock -pigeons, 
 which afford perhaps the most difficult shooting 
 in Britain ; seals are by no means uncommon, and 
 among the cliffs dwell immense and ever-increas- 
 ing colonies of rabbits. Sea-birds of many kinds 
 are there in myriads, but these, of course, possess 
 more interest for the naturalist than for the mere 
 sportsman. 
 
 Rabbits were, I believe, introduced by the late 
 141 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 Sir James Matheson. They are found of many 
 colours, from black to white with black markings. 
 Many have dark rings round their necks, and 
 some seem to be reverting to the original type. 
 With them are great numbers of the ordinary 
 wild rabbit. The black ones, it seemed to me, 
 were much more shy and difficult to get at than 
 any of the others. In places the shooting con- 
 sists of merely making a detour to get to the 
 top of some high rocky point of land and potting 
 the rabbits as they feed below ; but those por- 
 tions of the cliffs where the rabbits are most 
 plentiful are, it need hardly be said, the least 
 accessible, and the shooting is of quite another 
 kind. 
 
 Among the bent-covered sand-hills by the 
 sea rabbits have made their homes. Here they 
 are often found lying out, and some fair shoot- 
 ing may be had by walking the bent ; and 
 there is, of course, some ferreting to be done in 
 the burrows. But among the cliffs ferreting is 
 142 
 
THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 
 out of the question, nor is any dog, except a 
 very steady retriever, of the least use. 
 
 What may be termed the cliff rabbit-shooting 
 was simply delightful work. The surroundings 
 were romantic and picturesque in the extreme, 
 the rabbits afforded every possible variety of 
 shots, and there was just that spice of danger in 
 stalking them which always adds so much to the 
 enjoyment of any kind of sport. 
 
 One day late in September we organised an 
 expedition against the rabbits, combined with 
 a picnic on the sands for the benefit of the 
 ladies. The day commenced with an eight- 
 mile drive along a moorland road, through the 
 glorious Hebridean air, keen and invigorating, 
 and not quite so evanescent in its effects as 
 champagne. 
 
 On the way we passed two strapping crofters' 
 
 girls who, with feet bare, were stepping smartly 
 
 out on their way to do some shopping in Storno- 
 
 way. A little matter of twenty-two miles there 
 
 143 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 and home again. One of them had thrown back 
 
 the peculiar head-dress which they mostly wear 
 
 'a^little matter of twenty-two miles there and home again!' 
 
 as a protective in that windy and wet part of the 
 kingdom. 
 
 Leaving the moor we passed through the great 
 peat-bog which affords fuel to the inhabitants 
 144 
 
THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 of those curious crofter townships peculiar to 
 the Lews. Just on the edge of the bog was a 
 picturesque group consisting of an old crofter 
 
 'a picturesque group.' 
 
 or fisherman-farmer, a weather-beaten, smoke- 
 dried, sturdy woman, attired in the dress of the 
 country, and a sleek cow, which the man was lead- 
 ing about by a halter. I was fortunate in being 
 145 K 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 able to obtain a good photograph of this interest- 
 ing little scene. The illustration shows very 
 clearly the soleless stocking which the women 
 wear. The country is too wet for leather boots, 
 and (most of the year) too cold for bare legs. 
 This peculiar stocking is a compromise, 
 i A mile beyond the crofters'* cottages we came 
 ; to a farmhouse belonging to a Yorkshireman 
 ' whose father had migrated. Heaven knows why, 
 to these solitudes years before. Here we put up 
 ; the horses, and those who were least desirous of 
 ' climbing devoted themselves to the burrows 
 among the sand-dunes, while two guns, Gerald 
 and myself, were told off to storm the cliffs. 
 
 It is not easy to picture the great beauty of 
 the scene in which we found ourselves. Down a 
 heather-clad valley which narrowed into a rocky 
 gorge babbled a little burn which, after spread- 
 ing over the pure white sands of a bay a fur- 
 long or more in width, mingled with the low 
 breakers caused by a gentle swell rolling in from 
 146 
 
THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 the Atlantic. Rising out of the sands were lofty 
 rocks, on one of which a pirate's castle stood in 
 years gone by. From half-tide up to high water 
 it was quite surrounded by the sea. 
 
 The sands were closed in on each side by dark 
 cliffs haunted by the green shag and seagulls. 
 Above the cliffs were slopes covered with fine, 
 sweet grass, kept short as on any lawn by the 
 sheep and rabbits. A little above high- water 
 mark, and at the foot of a second tier of rocky 
 heights which faced and closed in the bay, except 
 for the valley through which ran the burn, was a 
 shallow loch covered with water-lilies, and fringed 
 with reeds. 
 
 The face of these inland cliffs, over which 
 heather and bracken grew luxuriantly, was 
 rugged and broken. At their base were piled 
 up great heaps of moss-covered rocks, some 
 of them many tons in weight. Rabbits in 
 thousands dwelt among these masses of fallen 
 rock, but were not easily shot. Even when 
 147 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 feeding in the evening it was rare to find one 
 any distance from some nook or cranny into 
 which he could bolt on hearing a footstep. 
 
 During the morning Gerald and I worked the 
 inner cliffs with results little better than those 
 obtained by the ferreters on the dunes. It took 
 some time to collect every one for lunch, and 
 afterwards there seemed a general indisposition 
 to do anything but bask in the September sun- 
 shine, and enjoy the beauties of the place. Truth 
 to say, a late lunch often means too hearty a 
 meal, followed, if not by a disposition towards 
 indolence, by somewhat indifferent shooting. A 
 seal disporting itself in almost human fashion in 
 the surf induced Gerald and me to steal down to 
 the shore for a closer inspection. But we could 
 get no nearer to it than seventy yards, and hav- 
 ing no rifle with us, would not hazard a shot, 
 except with the camera, which resulted in a pic- 
 ture of a low rocky point and surf breaking on 
 the sand, but no seal. The beautiful creature, 
 148 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 ever careful to keep its distance, fished steadily 
 among the breakers, now and again standing 
 almost upright in the water to look at us, expos- 
 ing about a third of its body. 
 
 After watching it for a while I suggested a 
 stroll along the cliffs, where none of us had yet 
 been. Gerald assented, and we had hardly left 
 the bay before a black rabbit dashed out of a 
 clump of bracken at our feet. I fired, but he 
 ran fifty yards and disappeared under a heap of 
 stones. I imagined it was a clean miss, but 
 Gerald thought otherwise. On examining the 
 heap of stones I saw a spot of blood on one of 
 them, put my arm in, and pulled out the rabbit 
 quite dead. It had been shot in the head. 
 
 Gradually ascending we found ourselves a con- 
 siderable height above the sea, so made our way 
 by a sheep-track along the face of the cliff*, and 
 entered upon a veritable land of rabbits. We 
 saw no seals. Numbers of blue rock -pigeons 
 darted by us, but we did not attempt to shoot 
 150 
 
THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 
 any, as they were all flying over the sea, and 
 could not have been retrieved. The rabbits, 
 therefore, engrossed our attention. There was 
 hardly a rock under which we did not see a white 
 tail vanishing as we advanced cautiously. Snap- 
 shots were the only ones possible, and our foot- 
 hold being anything but secure, there was a cer- 
 tain amount of powder burned without much 
 effect. None the less we soon killed more rab- 
 bits than it was convenient to carry, and we 
 regretted we had not brought a gillie with us. 
 Moreover, we required a guide, for more than 
 once, after an anything but pleasant scramble 
 over great boulders and loose stones, we found 
 ourselves stopped by some miniature precipice, 
 and had to retrace our steps. As we could not 
 possibly carry the dead rabbits and continue 
 shooting, we hid those we had killed under a 
 stone and went on our way. 
 
 Presently we came to a grassy slope at the 
 edge of which the rock went down straight to 
 151 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 the sea, about a hundred feet below. Some 
 rabbits were out feeding, and one of them I shot 
 before he could get to his stronghold. The 
 place was shut in on both sides by steep rocks, 
 round which it was just possible to climb by a 
 sheep-path leading to some broken ground where, 
 to all appearance, one gun would probably do 
 more execution than two. So I left Gerald to 
 work the place by himself. He had hardly 
 turned the corner before he fired, and I heard 
 his gun repeatedly during the next ten minutes. 
 
 Meanwhile I sat on the springy turf, thankful 
 for the rest, and watched a great solan goose 
 making his wonderful dives from giddy heights 
 with folded wings, head foremost into the sea. 
 Up would fly froth and foam as he struck the 
 water, and a second or two later he would bounce 
 up like a cork, as often as not without the fish 
 he had aimed at. Presently a rabbit ambled out 
 on to the grass at the edge of the slope and 
 began feeding. I fired, and unfortunately did 
 152 
 
THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 
 not hit it sufficiently hard to prevent it gaining 
 a burrow under a large stone. 
 
 It was a curious thing, but these rabbits took 
 little notice of the report of a gun. I noticed on 
 several occasions that after shooting over a par- 
 ticular piece of ground, if we walked it again a 
 quarter of an hour later, we probably found 
 nearly as many rabbits out as before. As a 
 matter of fact, these cliffs are so little shot over, 
 in some seasons not at all, that the rabbits pro- 
 bably do not associate the noise of guns with 
 an attack on themselves. 
 
 Not five minutes had elapsed before another rab- 
 bit made its appearance and commenced calmly 
 browsing on the short sweet herbage. I would 
 not again hazard a shot at that distance, having a 
 strong dislike to wound game and allow it to die 
 a slow and painful death. So I stole down the 
 slope to get nearer. That most confiding creature 
 fed on and never noticed me. At thirty yards I 
 fired and the result was tragic, I may say melo- 
 153 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 dramatic. The poor thing rolled over, lay still for 
 a second, rolled again, and always nearing with 
 each struggle the brink of the cliff. Almost as I 
 seized him, he made one last effort and went over 
 the edge out of sight. There was a sickening 
 thud on a projecting rock, and a splash in the 
 water below. I felt like the murderer in an 
 Adelphi melodrama or shilling shocker, or rather 
 I should say that I felt myself on an equality 
 with those inhuman monsters. 
 
 The deed of horror was j ust over when Gerald 
 returned with several couple of rabbits, saying he 
 could have shot many more but was afraid that if 
 he did so they would fall off the cliffs into the sea. 
 
 Having made another pile of rabbits, we con- 
 tinued our scramble, getting a shot here and 
 another there, until we came to a spot where, 
 even for a goat, there was no possible foothold. 
 A great natural obelisk, split from the mainland 
 by some convulsion of nature, rose up out of the 
 sea, and the wall of rock, from which it had 
 154 
 
THE RABBITS OF THE CLIFFS 
 
 parted centuries ago, went down sheer to the 
 water'*s edge. There was nothing for us but to 
 ascend to the moor above. This we had no 
 reason to regret, for, as our heads appeared sud- 
 denly above the cHfF-top, we caught sight of a 
 hundred or more rabbits all feeding within gun- 
 shot. They were as much astonished as we were. 
 Some clearly lost their heads, bolting hither and 
 thither, and gave us the opportunity of reloading 
 and firing again after emptying our barrels at 
 them. On going up to collect the killed and 
 wounded, I kicked up still another rabbit and 
 shot him. 
 
 Beyond this point the country did not look 
 very promising, so we turned and made our way 
 along the tops of the cliffs towards the farmhouse. 
 Several times we had to make more or less peril- 
 ous descents to recover our dead rabbits, and, 
 what with the heavy load and the climb among 
 the crags, loose stones, and moist, slippery places, 
 which were worst of all, we had had quite enough 
 155 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 by the time we reached the abode of our York- 
 shire friend. 
 
 Night had fallen, and we found that the merry 
 picnic party had given us up and driven off an 
 hour earlier, leaving the head-keeper to bring 
 us home behind an aged pony, almost as used- 
 up as we were. The cows had not been milked, 
 but Bridget, the dairymaid, blessings be on her, 
 broke her cream for us, and gave us that finest of 
 restoratives, fresh milk and good Scotch whisky 
 in equal parts. After which, much refreshed, we 
 bade the worthy farmer and his wife farewell, and 
 set out on our long, dark, and cold drive over the 
 lonesome moor. 
 
 ^ 
 
 156 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 OUR SEA-TROUT DITCH 
 
 ^T is, perhaps, an unkind thing to 
 speak of a piece of water which is 
 dignified on the Ordnance Survey 
 by the name of a river, as a ditch, 
 but a channel four feet deep and ten feet wide, 
 which winds through a swamp, and contains water 
 in which there is no perceptible stream, can hardly 
 rank among rivers. It is the last place in the 
 world in which one would expect to get good 
 fishing ; but ' at times," as the guide-books say, 
 some very fine baskets of both brown and sea- 
 trout can be caught out of it. It rises some- 
 where up in the moorlands — a pretty little rill, 
 flowing sometimes underground, at others twist- 
 167 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 ing and twirling between peat banks, doing a 
 desperate fall over a rocky ledge at least three 
 feet wide and four feet high, and forming pools 
 below almost as large as a full-sized sponge-bath. 
 Reaching the valley, it broadens out into a 
 swampy lagoon, not more than eighteen inches 
 deep in any part, and between this lagoon and 
 the sea is the ditch referred to. 
 
 Though comparatively shallow, the water is so 
 stained as to appear of unknown depth, and no- 
 where is the black peaty bottom visible. From 
 the lagoon to the sea the distance is perhaps a 
 quarter of a mile. Here it was that during 
 spring tides fine shoals of sea- trout came to 
 feed, returning, I venture to think, to the 
 sea after spending perhaps four or five days 
 in fresh water. Later on in the season, of 
 course, they pushed up from the sea through 
 the lagoon and into the moorland burn for 
 spawning purposes. 
 
 There were ladies of our party who were 
 168 
 
OUR SEA-TROUT DITCH 
 
 anxious to become fly-fishers, and the wise old 
 keeper said that the river Colso was just the 
 place for them. ' It had varra nice fishing what- 
 efer, and the troots were plenty, and they rose 
 varra well indeed whenefer there was a goot 
 wind blowing up the strath." So one morning 
 I was commissioned to take two ladies to this 
 curious piece of water. 
 
 The day commenced with a pleasant drive of 
 a few miles along the breezy road round the bay 
 in the direction of Stornoway. We left the dog- 
 cart in the solid stone house belonging to a 
 
 worthy sheepfarmer, John H , around whose 
 
 homestead was an expanse of excellent grass- 
 land, on which the crofters cast envious eyes. 
 On either side of the little path which led up to 
 the door was a profusion of flowers. Indeed 
 the worthy John, or his little daughter, ' Mary- 
 Jo " (so called, perhaps, to distinguish her from 
 some other Mary on whom the name of Joanna 
 had not been conferred), had apparently bought 
 159 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 packets of annual seeds, mixed their contents 
 together, and sown them broadcast. 
 
 I have a vivid recollection of three little scenes 
 at the farm-house : That gorgeous avenue of 
 
 flowers, and Mrs. H standing in, and fairly 
 
 filling the doorway beyond, beaming upon the 
 arrivals. Then one October night a weary duck- 
 shooter coming off* the moor wet and exhausted, 
 and being served with whisky and new milk in 
 the old kitchen by Mary- Jo, the rest of the 
 
 family gathered around. Lastly, John H 
 
 standing outside in the sunshine, and comment- 
 ing on the value of a certain mare he thought 
 would suit Vernon. 
 
 'She's joost a fine mare," he was saying, as I 
 took his photograph. 
 
 But on this occasion we delayed not to photo- 
 graph or discuss horses, but walked quickly down 
 to the little stream which wound through the 
 valley below. During the morning I played 
 gillie — tied on flies that were whipped off* every 
 160 
 
OUR SEA-TROUT DITCH 
 five minutes, and officiated with the landing-net 
 whenever a quarter-pounder was hooked. It is 
 
 ' she's joost a fine make,' he was saying. 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 impossible to give a better idea of the numbers 
 and ignorance of the trout than by saying that 
 during the day, if my memory errs not, these 
 two ladies, who were absolute beginners in the 
 art of fly-fishing, caught something like nine 
 dozen fish. Here and there the breeze touched 
 the water, but the fish rose in the calms as well 
 as in those places where there was a ripple. 
 
 Towards the mouth of the ditch was a gravelly 
 bar, which was very useful in keeping up the 
 water, but tended to keep out the sea-trout 
 except during spring tides. Below this bar was 
 a little tidal pool ; and towards the evening, 
 while my companions were resting, I made a few 
 casts here, and soon pulled out a couple of brace 
 of finnocks. This led to inquiries, and it appeared 
 that there were ancient traditions concerning this 
 water of sea-trout, ' varra large and plenty ,** as 
 Donald would say, so when, therefore, there was 
 a chance we fished the ditch for an hour or two, 
 and at last we were rewarded. 
 16^ 
 
OUR SEA-TROUT DITCH 
 I was not of the party which first happened on 
 the sea-trout, having that day been fishing on one 
 of the hundred or more lochs at our disposal. 
 My friends, who had been fishing the ditch, had 
 unfortunately gone only provided with the finest 
 of tackle, intending to have made a great raid 
 upon the little brown trout, but it seems that 
 these were not rising and the sea-trout were, and 
 the loss of flies was truly terrible. However, 
 they brought some good trout home, but were 
 loud in their lamentations concerning the still 
 better fish that they had lost, several of them 
 believed to be well over three pounds. 
 
 Later on, provided with flies tied on something 
 stronger than gossamer gut, we fished the place, 
 and, though its occupants were neither rising so 
 freely nor appeared to be so plentiful as on the 
 previous occasion, we killed a good basketful. 
 In a little water like this, where, owing to the 
 muddy bottom, wading was impossible, it was 
 extremely difficult to keep out of sight of the 
 163 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 fish. To cast up-stream was absolutely neces- 
 sary, and the flies most favoured were small, one 
 in particular, which was great medicine, was a 
 red and black hackle, the pattern for which was 
 given me by Dr. Hamilton, author of those 
 delightful Recollections of Salmon^ Trout^ and 
 Grayling Fishing, It was dressed thus : — 
 
 At the head a good -sized black hackle ; the 
 half of the body next the hackle rough crimson 
 pig's wool; the tail half of the body of bright 
 golden brown pig's wool ; and the tail, a topping. 
 
 Dressed very small, this fly proved most at- 
 tractive to the little brown trout of the Colso 
 ditch, and the day on which was made the big- 
 gest bag of brown trout of the season, most of 
 the fish were caught on it. It was a really good 
 all-round fly, best of all for sea-trout, but attrac- 
 tive to salmon and brown trout in peat-stained 
 waters. I think it was Major Traherne who 
 pointed out that in coffee-coloured waters one 
 requires for salmon a fly that can be seen by 
 164 
 
OUR SEA-TROUT DITCH 
 
 the fish — a truism which is sometimes overlooked 
 — and that from experiments he had made, he 
 discovered that a fly in which scarlet and black 
 were contrasted was the most showy of all. This 
 fly of Dr. Hamilton's, therefore, is particularly 
 suited for rivers which take their rise in peat- 
 bogs. 
 
 One day when I visited the Colso ditch there 
 was no wind, and a most dazzling sun ; the fish 
 by that time had become somewhat educated, 
 and I found myself reduced to the necessity of 
 fishing with a dry fly. There was nothing rising 
 so far as one could see, probably for the reason 
 that there was nothing to rise at, which is a 
 very ordinary state of affairs on northern rivers. 
 
 After vainly whipping the water with a cast of 
 flies worked in the ordinary fashion, I thought I 
 would try what a Hampshire dun would do, put 
 one up, and made a few casts up-stream. I soon 
 came upon a fish which, though of an inquiring 
 disposition, had considerable difficulty in making 
 165 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 up his mind to take the fly. Perhaps he could 
 not see it through the peaty water so well as he 
 desired, for the first thing he did was to leap 
 lightly over it, no doubt squinting at it while on 
 his way through the air. I tried another cast, 
 and he rose and missed. The third time he was 
 fast, and proved to be a black-backed little 
 youngster of a quarter of a pound. 
 
 Further up the lagoon I rose a half-pounder, 
 and never did angler and fish have such a game 
 of cast and rise as did we two that sunny after- 
 noon. He was clearly unaccustomed to taking 
 flies on the surface, though he had a natural 
 tendency in that direction. Possibly he had 
 some obliqueness of vision. However that may 
 be, he tried for a good quarter of an hour to 
 take that fly before succeeding. He was lying at 
 the edge of a few reeds; my fly would fall just 
 over his nose, and up he would come six inches 
 to the right or left of it ; another cast, he would 
 be well in front of it ; and still another, he would 
 166 
 
OUR SEA -TROUT DITCH 
 miss it by six inches. I lost all count of the 
 number of times I rose him, but finally he did 
 succeed in getting it in his mouth, and having 
 got it there, instead of being pleased, as he 
 ought to have been after taking so much trouble 
 to secure it, dashed up-stream, turned a somer- 
 sault in the air, jiggered like any salmon, and 
 did his very utmost to get rid of the hook. He 
 was a plump, shapely half-pounder, which, from 
 his handsome colour, had just returned from a 
 visit to the tidal-pool. In September the fishing 
 fell off in the ditch, any sea-trout coming into it 
 no doubt pushing up the burn, but few of us had 
 any time to wield the rod, war having broken 
 out between the occupants of the lodge and the 
 grouse. Still, on off days, when dogs and men 
 were resting, we would go down to the Colso and 
 get a few of these hungry little brownies, and 
 now and again a sea-trout. But I never could 
 get over my feelings of astonishment at obtain- 
 ing good sport in such a queer place. 
 167 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 FAREWELL TO THULE 
 
 SAY, there''s a deuce of a swell 
 
 outside talking to Donald,'' said 
 
 Gerald one morning, on coming 
 
 in from a visit to the kennels. 
 
 'Who is he ?^ 
 
 No one knew, and every one felt interested, for, 
 with the exception of the crofter's cots and a 
 farm, there was not a house within nine miles of 
 us. A few minutes later I came upon our visitor 
 and found that GeraWs description of him, though 
 slightly lacking in detail, was broadly accurate 
 enough. He was a tall, fair, good-looking youth 
 of twenty summers or more, with freckled face 
 and bright blue eyes. He was clad in new tweeds 
 168 
 
FAREWELL TO THULE 
 with knickerbocker breeches, light spats, and shin- 
 ing shoes. There was a horsey-looking little 
 scarf, too, held in position by a gold pin. 
 
 Where had he dropped from ? In due course 
 Donald solved the mystery. It, or I should say 
 he, was the piper from the other side of the 
 island who had trotted fifteen miles across the 
 roadless moor (surely bearing those shoes and 
 spats under his arm), and was going to rouse the 
 echoes at the gillies' ball in the evening. But 
 where were the tartan and fiUibeg, where the 
 cap and eagle'*s feather? Where that finery 
 which makes the Scotch piper a thing beauteous 
 to look upon ? 
 
 However, I discovered that our blue-eyed 
 friend could not rightly wear such apparel, not 
 being quite the real thing, but a sturdy young 
 gamekeeper who had a ^gift with tjie pipes.' 
 Some days previously I had seen a real piper, the 
 one specially retained by the deceased laird. He, 
 poor fellow, was on his way from his wife's funeral, 
 169 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 and was clad in black broadcloth just like any one 
 else. I have seen many more Highland pipers 
 in all their beauty in London than elsewhere. 
 
 True to its tradition, Gheira Lodge was to 
 open its doors to farmers, keepers, gillies, and 
 watchers, with their spouses present and prospec- 
 tive. The pipes were to pipe, and reels were to 
 be reeled. These festivities were to be the cul- 
 minating joys of our visit to Thule. 
 
 The guests, I suppose, collected outside the 
 lodge, for about nine oHock the blue-eyed keeper 
 marched in with pipes playing, Donald walking 
 in front as a sort of M.C. leading the way to 
 the roomy kitchen, the rest following. Donald 
 then said a lengthy and impressive grace, and a 
 well-sustained attack was made on the various 
 excellent dishes and compounds prepared by the 
 admirable Katie, who, beaming graciously on 
 every one, played the hostess at the lower end 
 of the table, Donald facing her. I only had a 
 glimpse of these things. 
 
 170 
 
FAREWELL TO THULE 
 At half-past ten Ina came in, bearing word 
 that the guests were waiting for Vernon to make 
 a speech to them, whereupon we all marched into 
 the kitchen and were given glasses of wine. It 
 was an interesting little ceremony. Vernon said 
 just the right things, and pleased everybody, and 
 Donald replied quietly and effectively. So well 
 did he do it that I ventured to think he had 
 played the role before. ' He had never been out 
 with better sportsmen,^ he said, 'and had never 
 passed a happier season. He had fished for 
 salmon many years, and thought he knew all 
 about it, but was bound to say that I — J. B. — 
 had shown him many things he did not know 
 before. They were all sorry we were leaving the 
 lodge, and looked forward to our return the fol- 
 lowing year. 
 
 I venture here to interpose the expression of a 
 wish that the reader will not be too utterly dis- 
 gusted at my most obvious and intense conceit in 
 recording the compliment paid me by Donald. 
 171 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 But praise from a Highlander, coupled with the 
 admission of having learned anything from an 
 Englander, is almost unexampled. Let me con- 
 fess, however, that the most Donald acquired from 
 me was the use of a few novelties in fishing-tackle, 
 a knot or two, and some facts about the natural 
 history of fish well known to those who have even 
 an elementary knowledge of ichthyology, but not 
 to be learned by mere residence by a salmon-river. 
 
 Certainly I could not have made Donald a 
 better fisherman than he was, for he cast a long, 
 straight line, knew exactly how to work and where 
 to place his fly, and was second to none in the use 
 of the gaff: The only time I ever knew him fail 
 was in an attempt to gaff^ a fish with a hake-hook 
 tied on to a rough stick none too tightly with a 
 boot-lace. He lost my salmon for me, but failure 
 under such circumstances was pardonable. 
 
 After Donald had concluded his neat and 
 complimentary speech, and oiir healths had been 
 drunk, Sandy, the second keeper, who had done 
 172 
 
FAREWELL TO THULE 
 service with 'Sixty-Three/^ and was regarded 
 and spoken of by the ladies of our party as a 
 ' dear old man,' made a nice little speech, in 
 which he said that he too had passed a happy 
 season. 
 
 Then our little conjurer of salmon, Kennie, 
 was called on by Vernon, and after a consider- 
 able amount ■ of pressing and many expostula- 
 tions in Gaelic, got on his legs, smiles rippling 
 all over his merry face. He began with the usual 
 'Oh, ay,** paused a second or two, and then 
 sensibly added that he had little English and 
 could not make a speech, that he would have 
 made one an he could. 
 
 After this the kiltless piper played us into 
 another room, where all arranged themselves on 
 benches round the walls, leaving as much space 
 
 ' The Rev. C. Hutchinson, a great fisherman and shot, who 
 spent some years in the Lews, and under this pseudonym pub- 
 lished many capital articles in The Field on Hebridean Sport. 
 Poor Sandy will pass no more happy seasons in this world. I 
 heard of his death while this book was in the press. 
 
 173 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 as possible for the dancing. There was a little 
 hesitation at the outset, and the piper''s eye 
 looked anxiously about as if its owner was won- 
 dering how long he was to be kept blowing wind 
 into that skin for no purpose. But Donald was 
 equal to the occasion and soon arranged a reel, 
 which was danced in very solemn fashion. 
 
 Sitting demurely against the wall, with mit- 
 tened hands crossed in their laps, were the belles 
 of the ball, two sisters from a neighbouring 
 village. One of these sang an old Scotch song 
 very sweetly, after which our kind hostess thrilled 
 these good people of Thule by singing 'The 
 Last Rose of Summer ' as, perhaps, it had never 
 before been sung in the Hebrides. Another reel 
 followed, and we left Donald and Katie to enter- 
 tain the guests. 
 
 From time to time some of us looked in to 
 
 view the scene, which grew gayer as the night 
 
 wore on. Once we found that the young keeper 
 
 had relinquished his pipes and was briskly danc- 
 
 174 
 
FAREWELL TO THULE 
 ing a reel with his shoes off, to do it the better. 
 Not that the dancers were at any time musicless, 
 for was not the policeman a notable performer on 
 . the accordion, and, when both piper and police- 
 man were weary, did not the solemn Murdo 
 produce a comb and a piece of paper, to which 
 the dancers reeled as smartly as ever ! But 
 that was late in the evening, when no one was 
 critical. 
 
 One strange thing dwells in my memory, an 
 odious sacrifice on the Altar of Fashion, to wit, a 
 polka played on the pipes ! There was also an 
 incident upon which I will not dilate, connected 
 with the intrusion of an uninvited guest, of 
 great activity, but questionable honesty. 
 
 In the small hours of the morning the guests 
 dwindled reluctantly away, and if some could not 
 have walked a chalk line, why, you know, one"'s 
 legs are a wee shaky after dancing reels for six or 
 seven hours. 
 
 Thus ended the ball. The two following days 
 175 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 were devoted to catching a badly-conditioned 
 salmon or two for kippering at Stornoway, kill- 
 ing a few brace of grouse to be stored in the 
 freezing chambers at Leadenhall Market for the 
 Christmas festivities, and that most odious busi- 
 ness generally termed 'packing- up." The farewell- 
 bidding to all the good people who had helped 
 to make our visit to Thule so enjoyable was a 
 sad affair. Long Murdo and, for once, Kennie 
 looked simply miserable. On the road troops of 
 young urchins, brown as to their faces, legs, and 
 arms, raced after the dogcarts until they could 
 run no more. Pleasant-looking women, who, I 
 suspect, had benefited by kind Mrs. Vernon'^s 
 liberality, stood at their doors and sent parting 
 smiles after us. Frith took a photo of one little 
 roadside scene, which he kindly allows me to 
 reproduce. 
 
 There was a large party to dine and sleep in 
 Stornoway at the Royal Hotel that evening, for 
 the steamers which cross the Minch invariably 
 176 
 
FKITH TOOK A PHOTO OF ONE LI ITLE ROADSIDE SCENE. 
 
DAYSINTHULE 
 
 start at most inconvenient hours. Gerald and I 
 proposed to sleep on board the steamer, but on 
 my asking for berths for us, the steward flatly 
 refused us any accommodation, saying that the 
 Stornoway people (hotel-keepers, I suppose, he 
 meant) would not like it. He, moreover, dis- 
 played his classical attainments by informing me 
 that his rules were those of the Medes and 
 Persians. 
 
 This was the first incident in our return to 
 town life. The proprietor of the hotel, Mac- 
 kenzie, an ex-gamekeeper, was a thoroughly 
 good fellow. When I told him of the steward's 
 extraordinary behaviour, he said it was all non- 
 sense, and went with me on board. But the 
 Persian ruler was still inflexible, and unfortun- 
 ately there was no appeal, as the captain had 
 turned in for the night. On getting back to 
 the hotel, Gerald, who did not relish going to 
 bed only to have to turn out again at daybreak, 
 said he would go and tackle the steward. How 
 178 
 
FAREWELL TO THULE 
 the great man was conciliated I know not, but 
 after some demur he agreed to prepare berths for 
 Gerald and 'a friend.' When he saw who the 
 
 ' friend ' was, for Gerald had acknowledged no 
 connection with me, his indignation was so 
 evident that he deemed it wisest to retire to 
 his pantry. I thought me of the laws of the 
 179 
 
DAYS IN THULE 
 
 Medes and Persians, but was merciful and said 
 nothing. However, the autocrat of the state- 
 room was fully revenged, for a wretched steam- 
 crane began to work about midnight, and sleep 
 was impossible. 
 
 The discharging and lading of goods at night 
 is one great objection to the stopping steamers 
 which run between Glasgow and Stornoway, 
 otherwise the trip for those who have plenty of 
 time at their disposal is a pleasant one. The 
 shortest sea-route is from Strome Ferry to Stor- 
 noway, but it necessitates a most tedious railway 
 journey. Perhaps the best plan is to join the 
 Liverpool-Stornoway boat at Oban, and sail 
 thence without stoppage to Lewis. 
 
 In the small hours of the morning Vernon and 
 the rest of our party came on board, and we 
 steamed out of the harbour on to a calm sea, 
 heading for Skye, and bound for Oban and 
 civilisation. As we cleared the Eye of Lewis, 
 Broad Bay opened out, but Gheira Lodge was 
 180 
 
FAREWELL TO THULE 
 hidden in the dusk of early morn. The dark 
 mountains of Harris were just visible, but long 
 before we arrived in sight of the mainland a 
 Scotch mist began to fall, hiding all distant 
 things, and we had seen the last of peat-scented 
 Thule. 
 
 ' BOUND FOR OBAN AND CIVILISATION. 
 
Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable 
 Printers to Her Majesty 
 
Messrs. William Blackwood & Sons beg to 
 
 announce the publication of a Novel in One 
 
 Volume (6s.) by Mr. John Bickerdyke, 
 
 entitled 
 
 A BANISHED BEAUTY 
 
 The following: short extracts from a few early Press Notices 
 serve to indicate the nature of its contents : — 
 
 * . . . has also a romantic element that adds much to its attraction. A 
 book that has vivid descriptions of scenery and sport, clever and amusing 
 character sketches, besides a fairly exciting plot.' — Morning Post. 
 
 ' There is no lack of vivacious incident in A Banished Beauty, the author 
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 ing fun and wholesome sentiment.' — Daily Telegraph. 
 
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 particularly good, while all the characters of the bracing, picturesque nar- 
 rative are clearly drawn ... a capital hooV.'— Manchester Courier. 
 
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 the spirit and freedom of a lover of sport. There are materials here for 
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 book has two or three charming illustrations.' — Newbury Weekly News. 
 
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 cial persons (in the opinion of outsiders), and all more or less rascals, are 
 admirably drawn.' — Yorkshire Daily Post. 
 
 * In the course of the story we are allowed to be present at the capture of 
 almost every species offish, flesh, and fowl which inhabits that delectable 
 paradise of sportsmen, from snipe to seals, and even including a Land 
 Leaguer. Mr. Bickerdyke has the gift of vigorous and entertaining de- 
 scription ... a most readable book.' — Glasgow Herald. 
 
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 his wooing form one of the finest parts of the plot. . . . the boasting 
 sportsman is splendidly'portrayed . . . throughout sparkling with humour, 
 and, what a good book should be, very enticing.' — Henley Standard. 
 
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Books by John Bickerdyke. 
 
 THAMES RIGHTS AND THAMES WRONGS. A 
 
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A FEW OF 
 
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 PUBLICATIONS 
 
 The ' Whitehall Edition ' of 
 
 The Works of William Shakespeare 
 
 Edited from the Original Texts by H. Arthur Double- 
 day, with the assistance of T. Gregory Foster and 
 Robert Elson. 
 
 This Edition of Shakespeare's Works will be completed 
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 * The text gives every evidence of being edited with care and scholar- 
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 pn the whole, " The Whitehall Shakespeare" promises to be one of the 
 most generally attractive among the many editions of the bard which 
 compete for public favour.' — Scotsman of-z^jglg^' 
 
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 ^ ' "The Whitehall Shakespeare" is an exceedingly handsome and de- 
 sirable book. It has excellent paper, a large and fine letter well set on 
 the page, an index of Shakespeare's characters which we do not re- 
 member to have seen attempted before, a blessedly moderate allowance 
 of almost entirely textual Notes, and a sufficient glossarj^. May it 
 prosper ! Nobody who wants a Shakespeare can do better, if so well.' 
 — Saturday Review. 
 
 ' A most delightful edition of our great poet, issued from the Chiswick 
 Press, printed in a type that is easily read, and in a handy form. A 
 useful feature of this first volume is an alphabetical list of all the 
 characters in Shakespeare's plays.' — Liverpool Mercury. 
 
 ' We give a hearty welcome to this new edition, which is in many 
 respects ideal. The size is small quarto and the old-faced type is large 
 and black, so that the eye can rest on it with pleasure and find it 
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 and though the reader is not troubled with variorum readings on each 
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 for which we are indebted to Messrs. Constable.' — Birmingham Post. 
 
 'The new "Whitehall Shakespeare" is designed as a book to read ; 
 it is well printed, the paper is good, the "format" not unwieldy, the 
 general effect is excellent. It deserves a great success.' — National 
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 ' "The Whitehall Shakespeare" commends itself by its convenient 
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 features, among which is the prefixed alphabetical index to all the 
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 ' The prettiest and, on the whole, the best edition of Shakespeare 
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 combines a good and accurate text with all the external accessories 
 which go to make up a thoroughly handsome volume. On the whole, 
 this new edition of Shakespeare, seems to us one of the best editions 
 for the general reader that have ever appeared in this country.* — 
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 Poems 
 
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