The Pirate
Haste the loom of hell prepare,
Iron sleet of arrowry shower
Hurtles in the darken'd air."
But when they had heard a verse or two more, they interrupted the
reader, telling him they knew the song well in the Norse language, and
had often sung it to him when he asked them for an old song. They called
it the Magicians, or the Enchantresses. It would have been singular news
to the elegant translator, when executing his version from the text of
Bartholine, to have learned that the Norse original was still preserved
by tradition in a remote corner of the British dominions. The
circumstances will probably justify what is said in the text concerning
the traditions of the inhabitants of those remote isles, at the
beginning of the eighteenth century.
Even yet, though the Norse language is entirely disused, except in so
far as particular words and phrases are still retained, these fishers of
the Ultima Thule are a generation much attached to these ancient
legends. Of this the author learned a singular instance.
About twenty years ago, a missionary clergyman had taken the resolution
of traversing those wild islands, where he supposed there might be a
lack of religious instruction, which he believed himself capable of
supplying. After being some days at sea in an open boat, he arrived at
North Ronaldshaw, where his appearance excited great speculation. He was
a very little man, dark-complexioned, and from the fatigue he had
sustained in removing from one island to another, appeared before them
ill-dressed and unshaved; so that the inhabitants set him down as one of
the Ancient Picts, or, as they call them with the usual strong guttural,
Peghts. How they might have received the poor preacher in this
character, was at least dubious; and the schoolmaster of the parish, who
had given quarters to the fatigued traveller, set off to consult with
Mr. S----, the able and ingenious engineer of the Scottish Light-House
Service, who chanced to be on the island. As his skill and knowledge
were in the highest repute, it was conceived that Mr. S---- could decide
at once whether the stranger was a Peght, or ought to be treated as
such. Mr. S---- was so good-natured as to attend the summons, with the
view of rendering the preacher some service. The poor missionary, who
had watched for three nights, was now fast asleep, little dreaming what
odious suspicions were current respecting him. The inhabitants were
assembled round the door. Mr. S----, understanding the traveller's
condition, declined disturbing him, upon which the islanders produced a
pair of very little uncouth-looking boots, with prodigiously thick
soles, and appealed to him whether it was possible such articles of
raiment could belong to any one but a Peght. Mr. S----, finding the
prejudices of the natives so strong, was induced to enter the sleeping
apartment of the traveller, and was surprised to recognise in the
supposed Peght a person whom he had known in his worldly profession of
an Edinburgh shopkeeper, before he had assumed his present vocation. Of
course he was enabled to refute all suspicions of Peghtism.
Note II., p. 23.--MONSTERS OF THE NORTHERN SEAS.
I have said, in the text, that the wondrous tales told by Pontoppidan,
the Archbishop of Upsal, still find believers in the Northern
Archipelago. It is in vain they are cancelled even in the later editions
of Guthrie's Grammar, of which instructive work they used to form the
chapter far most attractive to juvenile readers. But the same causes
which probably gave birth to the legends concerning mermaids,
sea-snakes, krakens, and other marvellous inhabitants of the Northern
Ocean, are still afloat in those climates where they took their rise.
They had their origin probably from the eagerness of curiosity
manifested by our elegant poetess, Mrs. Hemans:
"What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells,
Thou ever-sounding and mysterious Sea?"
The additional mystic gloom which rests on these northern billows for
half the year, joined to the imperfect glance obtained of occasional
objects, encourage the timid or the fanciful to give way to imagination,
and frequently to shape out a distinct story from some object half seen
and imperfectly examined. Thus, some years since, a large object was
observed in the beautiful Bay of Scalloway in Zetland, so much in vulgar
opinion resembling the kraken, that though it might be distinguished for
several days, if the exchange of darkness to twilight can be termed so,
yet the hardy boatmen shuddered to approach it, for fear of being drawn
down by the suction supposed to attend its sinking. It was probably the
hull of some vessel which had foundered at sea.
The belief in mermaids, so fanciful and pleasing in itself, is ever and
anon refreshed by a strange tale from the remote shores of some solitary
islet.
The author heard a mariner of some reputation in his class vouch for
having seen the celebrated sea-serpent. It appeared, so far as could be
guessed, to be about a hundred feet long, with the wild mane and fiery
eyes which old writers ascribe to the monster; but it is not unlikely
the spectator might, in the doubtful light, be deceived by the
appearance of a good Norway log floating on the waves. I have only to
add, that the remains of an animal, supposed to belong to this latter
species, were driven on shore in the Zetland Isles, within the
recollection of man. Part of the bones were sent to London, and
pronounced by Sir Joseph Banks to be those of a basking shark; yet it
would seem that an animal so well known, ought to have been immediately
distinguished by the northern fishermen.
Note III., p. 104.--SALE OF WINDS.
The King of Sweden, the same Eric quoted by Mordaunt, "was," says Olaus
Magnus, "in his time held second to none in the magical art; and he was
so familiar with the evil spirits whom he worshipped, that what way
soever he turned his cap, the wind would presently blow that way. For
this he was called Windycap." _Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus.
Romæ, 1555._ It is well known that the Laplanders derive a profitable
trade in selling _winds_, but it is perhaps less notorious, that within
these few years such a commodity might be purchased on British ground,
where it was likely to be in great request. At the village of Stromness,
on the Orkney main island, called Pomona, lived, in 1814, an aged dame,
called Bessie Millie, who helped out her subsistence by selling
favourable winds to mariners. He was a venturous master of a vessel who
left the roadstead of Stromness without paying his offering to
propitiate Bessie Millie; her fee was extremely moderate, being exactly
sixpence, for which, as she explained herself, she boiled her kettle and
gave the bark advantage of her prayers, for she disclaimed all unlawful
arts. The wind thus petitioned for was sure, she said, to arrive, though
occasionally the mariners had to wait some time for it. The woman's
dwelling and appearance were not unbecoming her pretensions; her house,
which was on the brow of the steep hill on which Stromness is founded,
was only accessible by a series of dirty and precipitous lanes, and for
exposure might have been the abode of Eolus himself, in whose
commodities the inhabitant dealt. She herself was, as she told us,
nearly one hundred years old, withered and dried up like a mummy. A
clay-coloured kerchief, folded round her head, corresponded in colour to
her corpse-like complexion. Two light-blue eyes that gleamed with a
lustre like that of insanity, an utterance of astonishing rapidity, a
nose and chin that almost met together, and a ghastly expression of
cunning, gave her the effect of Hecaté. She remembered Gow the pirate,
who had been a native of these islands, in which he closed his career,
as mentioned in the preface. Such was Bessie Millie, to whom the
mariners paid a sort of tribute, with a feeling betwixt jest and
earnest.
Note IV., p. 113.--RELUCTANCE TO SAVE A DROWNING MAN.
It is remarkable, that in an archipelago where so many persons must be
necessarily endangered by the waves, so strange and inhuman a maxim
should have ingrafted itself upon the minds of a people otherwise kind,
moral, and hospitable. But all with whom I have spoken agree, that it
was almost general in the beginning of the eighteenth century, and was
with difficulty weeded out by the sedulous instructions of the clergy,
and the rigorous injunctions of the proprietors. There is little doubt
it had been originally introduced as an excuse for suffering those who
attempted to escape from the wreck to perish unassisted, so that, there
being no survivor, she might be considered as lawful plunder. A story
was told me, I hope an untrue one, that a vessel having got ashore among
the breakers on one of the remote Zetland islands, five or six men, the
whole or greater part of the unfortunate crew, endeavoured to land by
assistance of a hawser, which they had secured to a rock; the
inhabitants were assembled, and looked on with some uncertainty, till an
old man said, "Sirs, if these men come ashore, the additional mouths
will eat all the meal we have in store for winter; and how are we to get
more?" A young fellow, moved with this argument, struck the rope asunder
with his axe, and all the poor wretches were immersed among the
breakers, and perished.
Note V., p. 121.--MAIR WRECKS ERE WINTER.
The ancient Zetlander looked upon the sea as the provider of his living,
not only by the plenty produced by the fishings, but by the spoil of
wrecks. Some particular islands have fallen off very considerably in
their rent, since the commissioners of the lighthouses have ordered
lights on the Isle of Sanda and the Pentland Skerries. A gentleman,
familiar with those seas, expressed surprise at seeing the farmer of one
of the isles in a boat with a very old pair of sails. "Had it been His
will"--said the man, with an affected deference to Providence, very
inconsistent with the sentiment of his speech--"Had it been _His_ will
that light had not been placed yonder, I would have had enough of new
sails last winter."
Note VI., p. 172.--ZETLAND CORN-MILLS.
There is certainly something very extraordinary to a stranger in Zetland
corn-mills. They are of the smallest possible size; the wheel which
drives them is horizontal, and the cogs are turned diagonally to the
water. The beam itself stands upright, and is inserted in a stone quern
of the old-fashioned construction, which it turns round, and thus
performs its duty. Had Robinson Crusoe ever been in Zetland, he would
have had no difficulty in contriving a machine for grinding corn in his
desert island. These mills are thatched over in a little hovel, which
has much the air of a pig-sty. There may be five hundred such mills on
one island, not capable any one of them of grinding above a sackful of
corn at a time.
Note VII., p. 234.--THE SWORD-DANCE.
The Sword-Dance is celebrated in general terms by Olaus Magnus. He seems
to have considered it as peculiar to the Norwegians, from whom it may
have passed to the Orkneymen and Zetlanders, with other northern
customs.
"OF THEIR DANCING IN ARMS.
"Moreover, the northern Goths and Swedes had another sport to exercise
youth withall, that they will dance and skip amongst naked swords and
dangerous weapons. And this they do after the manner of masters of
defence, as they are taught from their youth by skilful teachers, that
dance before them, and sing to it. And this play is showed especially
about Shrovetide, called in Italian _Macchararum_. For, before
carnivals, all the youth dance for eight days together, holding their
swords up, but within the scabbards, for three times turning about; and
then they do it with their naked swords lifted up. After this, turning