Blood of the Clans Ch. 14

Small, dried branches and leaves made it easy to start a fire, along with a small amount of oil. In minutes, they had it built up so the heat warmed an area five feet away from it. The men stripped naked and wrung out as much water as they could from their kilts and tunics, before using their swords and branches as drying racks. Blain went to his pack, took a small flask from it and after a good swig, passed it around. The men all complimented Blain for being thoughtful enough to bring a tot of whisky, feeling bad they hadn't thought of bringing some as well. Sitting crossed legged and naked around the fire, they continued thinking of where they could hide the birlinns. The area had to be out of sight, but easy enough to get to.

"Everywhere we've been so far, there's no been anywhere we can get tae and hide them." Brennan Fraser spoke out, "what we need is an island, just a wee speck of a thing, wi' some trees and bushes on it, somewhere no one wants tae go."

"Aye Brennan, I was thinking that as well. But where? All the islands around here are large and ha'e people on them." Blain responded to him.

"We've been looking tae closely tae the shore fer birlinn, and no looking out there fer small islands." Sloan said to them, pointing out at the hazy waters of the sea. "Keep a sharp eye if ye see a bump out there. That's all we're looking fer." making a small space between his finger and thumb, to show just how small.

After a good hour of drying, the men re-dressed and broke camp, diminishing their footprint that they had been there. They mounted up and continued along the coast for a couple of miles. In answer to their prayers, the haze broke and no more than six miles off shore, were two, very small islands. They were hard to make out, but they looked ideal for what they needed. A trip out on a birlinn to know for sure, was the next thing to do. They rode all day along the coast looking for birlinns and found three more, another being handed to them to use, in a stroke of luck in the early afternoon.

Five men beached a birlinn on the coast, not more than two hundred yards in front of them. They got out and unloaded hunting gear and supplies, then pulled the birlinn up on shore better. Sloan and his men watched, as they loaded themselves up and started inland, in search of their prey. Giving them some time to gain distance between them, they walked their horses to an area out of view and tied them up, quietly making their way back to the shore.

A quick scouting of the area showed the birlinn was unguarded and ready for their use. The four raced to it and pushed it back out into the water and jumped in. Raising the sail and setting the oars, they rowed out and into the brisk breeze coming from the south-west. In moments the sail popped loudly, as the wind filled it, the men pulling the oars in, as the wind now carried them along the sea with speed.

"That was'ne so hard, was it?" Sloan said loudly, sitting at the tiller, looking at the men.

"Aye, we'll ha'e enough birlinn in one night tae suit our needs, if they are all like this one.. If this island is what we're hoping fer, we'll ha'e them and under co'er, before anyone knows what we've done." Brennan replied to them.

Smiles were on all their faces, as they sailed west off the coast of Luing, the sea breeze blowing their hair wildly about their faces. They made it across to the bigger island, just west of Scarba and passed the north point, the islands now clearer to see. The islands had a rocky coasts and didn't look suitable for hiding birlinns. They sailed through the narrow channel between the Garvellachs, Sloan working the sail and tiller, everyone looking for a beach and treed area. As they reached the far side, a small bay could be seen on the northerly one. They sailed towards it and to their greatest hopes, the bay had a narrow beach and scrub bush close to shore. They ran the birlinn aground and jumped out to look around. The brush was thick and the land sloped up gradually enough, to make dragging a birlinn easy for the number of men

"They no come any better than this, Sloan." Keith told him, as he came out from the bush.

"Aye, I think this'll do fer what we need. There's no one about and small enough no one would come here. We'll go around Scarba there, and see if there's any more birlinns tae get." Sloan told them, pointing to the peaks in the near distance.

The men shoved the birlinn back into the water and were soon sailing in tack, to get to the end and turn to come back up. They made it to the southern tip and caught the current and wind at the same time, speeding them up considerably. Not being familiar with the area or the waters, they had no idea what lay just ahead of them. The booming confused them at first, thinking it was cannon fire. It wasn't until they saw the roiling waves in front of them, the booming coming from the massive waves slamming the surface from below. They had just met An Cailleach of Corryvrecken. The tidal whirlpool occurred as the tide came in and the currents slammed into a two hundred foot pinnacle of solid rock, rising from the sea floor. Ancient volcanic activities, shaping the sea bottom, had left a seven hundred foot hole just after it and helped to create an eddy of mammoth proportions.

In haste, they set oars and rowed hard for the shore, all men pulling on the starboard side. Sloan pushed the tiller hard over, and worked the sail as best he could. The strong draw of the vortex was pulling at them as it grew. The spin took them around once, the craft shifting sideways in the wave. Jumping to port, Sloan pulled on an oar, with all men straining with all their effort, the birlinn slid over the outer ring of the whirlpool and they headed for shore. They continued rowing as hard as they could, until the bow slammed into the rocky shore of Jura. They jumped out and pulled the birlinn up as far as they could and tied it to a strong tree at the shore, then turned to watch the growing maelstrom of water before them.

They were awed by the roaring booms as it grew, the waters converging and melding into an ever-growing and stronger vortex. Soon the waves were sloshing and curling violently, trying to out-do each other, as it continued to grow. The waves soon reached a height higher then they were standing, measuring them around ten or twelve feet. The men were filled with fear and dread at what they were witnessing. Words of an angry God of the sea must be against them were spoken, or a creature so huge, as to swim in circles waiting for them to enter the waters again. Blain picked up a large branch and threw it as close as he could to the whirlpool. The branch was sucked in closer to the centre and was soon spinning wildly. As it hit the centre, it sank below the surface and was never seen again.

They backed further away from the shore, in fear whatever it was could reach out and grab them. The birlinn rocked savagely on the shore, but held fast with the lines. For two hours the water surged and churned, until the tide eased and soon it was calming down in intensity. The deafening roar diminished and soon all was calm on the waters of the straight.

Not taking chances, the men pushed the birlinn back into the water, but kept it close to shore. They walked it along the water's edge, waiting to see if whatever it was, came back again. Once they rounded the point, everything looked safe enough and Sloan gave the order to sail. The men quickly jumped in and rowed as fast as they could back into the channel, before setting sail and letting the currents carry them northward. The coast of Luing approached them and their tense state eased, as they neared the shore where they had borrowed the boat from. They turned in and beached it, pulling it up as the others had done and quickly left the area, back to where their horses were tied. In five minutes, they reached them and found them quietly grazing on the new grasses around them.

The men mounted up and headed north, passing the birlinn and the hunters, now looking at it, seeing it was further away from where they had left it. Sloan waved to them, the others following suit, as the hunters watched them ride away, a puzzled look on their faces. After a good hour's ride, they reached the cold passage back across to the Isle of Seil. The prospect of another freezing swim didn't sit well with the men this time and the horses sensed it too. They dismounted and walked along the shore, hoping to find the shortest distance.

As Blain traversed the rocky terrain, he lost his balance an fell. It was the sound of hitting solid wood that caught his and the other's attention. Moving aside some scrub brush and branches, a large raft was underneath. A loud howl of happiness went up, as the men knew they weren't swimming and suffering a severe shrinkage of their members again. They uncovered it and dragged it the ten or so feet to the water. It was well enough made, that it could hold two horses and two men at one time. Blain and Keith went over first, using fresh branches as paddles. Keith got off with the horses and Blain paddled back again. The two horses went on and then all three men climbed aboard. The raft sank below the surface, but only by a few inches, as Blain and Brennan paddled with branches, while Sloan held the horses.

They had almost made it across, when one horse shifted and changed the balance of the raft. The raft tilted to one side and soon the men and horses were sliding into the water, the raft shooting out from under them and drifting away. Howls of agony rose from the men as they surfaced, showing their great displeasure at the cold water causing them pain once more. The horses swam out first and Keith got a hold of their reins and held them with the others. He watched as his three kin members pulled their sodden bodies out of the water and stood on the shore, dripping from head to toe, not a happy look on any of them.

Keith laughed heartily at the expense of their discomfort, causing the others insult to their misery.

"Get him." was all Sloan shouted out and the three grabbed Keith and dragged him to the edge and pushed him in as well.

The three soaking men laughed heartily at Keith, as he pulled his drenched body from the water. At first he looked mad as hell at them, then joined in the laughter and soon it was all just fun and games for them. Once again they gathered wood and made a fire, stripping naked and wringing out the water from their garments. This time they had a subject to talk about that was still weighing heavy on them.

"What do ye think that really was back there?" Blain asked them, opening the conversation to it.

"I don't know, Blain. But whatever it was, I don'ne want tae see it again. When we hide they birlinn, we'll nae come down that way and come straight back the way we came." Brennan expressed his fears to them, letting it be known he was against facing that again.

"I don'ne think it was some beastie swimming about, looking tae eat us. I don'ne think it was an angry God of the sea either. That was something that happens because of the incoming tides." Sloan told them his thoughts on what it was to him.

"Tides? When ha'e ye e'er seen a tide do that?" Keith replied with astonishment at Sloan's statement.

"Something about the two islands and the tides has tae make it happen. If we went back the now, there'll no be anything but calm water. It makes sense doesn't it?" Sloan said looking at them, daring them to come up with something more plausible.

They looked at him and then amongst themselves, to see if anyone might have something to say. They turned back to Sloan and an agreement of the minds was met. They looked to him for more of an explanation.

"When I was younger, my Grandfather told me about the tides and we used tae sit and watch them. I remember seeing things like that in the water, but no as big as what was back there. Once the tide was in, the swirling stopped and the waters calmed." Sloan related his childhood experiences to them, a realization growing on their faces.

"I remember seeing they things myself, Sloan. Da pointed them out tae me in the burns. Yer right, so ye are." Blain said out, as he remembered his father taking him on walks.

"So that's just a giant one of they things, isn't it?" Sloan reasoned to them, seeing the realization what they had seen, wasn't a sea-creature or an angry God.

They checked the dryness of their clothes and soon had themselves dressed and riding once again. The ride through Seil went easily, reaching the Clachan Bridge in the late afternoon. Crossing back onto the mainland, they made their way to the mouth of Loch Feochan and east to a small place called Kilninver, before making camp. The area was filled with the take of the sea and land, so they bought their meal and ate heartily on a stone wall along the road. A tankard of ale was sought by everyone, so they headed off to an inn, down the road a bit further.

While drinking their ale, the men overheard two villagers talking about a ship being swallowed up in Corryvrecken by the An Cailleach, a week past. They paid attention to what they said about it, learning more about what they faced earlier. Hearing the tale, Blain turned to them and asked what they were talking about. The villager closest to Blain replied, that the whirlpool happens with the incoming tides and has swallowed and wrecked many boats and ships. No one from there sailed in that area, avoiding it completely.

The news brought faint smiles on the faces of the men, hearing that the island they chose wasn't fished around or used in any way. They thanked the men for the tale and information about the whirlpool and rode back to their camp. The night was just falling, as they pulled their heavy sheepskin cloaks about them and rested for the night.

Rising with the sun, the men were riding back to Oban, before the sun had crested the mountain tops. The four mile ride along the coast of Feochan went quicker now, then crossing the river flowing from Loch Neil that drained into loch, then another five miles through rocky passes north. The way was slow, but filled with talk of the An Cailleach and wanting to know more about it. How they might use it to their advantage in a sea battle later, after taking over Dunollie and Stalker. Nothing seemed to escape Sloan's mind, to work an advantage for them.

The Fraser camp was busy preparing for the day and living their lives, as the men rode back in and began to tell the tales of their journey. The faces of the clan members showing shock and happiness in one instant.

**********

The yacht was pulling into Mallaig harbour, as Argus Stewart finished up that part of the story. The captain eased in slowly to the dock, as Frick and Frack jumped out and pulled on the lines, wrapping them around the pilings and tying-off. Stuart and Tavish led the small contingent of guests into the town and along Davie's Brae to the Cornerstone Restaurant. The group placed their orders and sat having a pint, as they waited for it to be cooked. Stuart stood among them and asked how they liked the story so far.

"I must say, this is a grand way tae tell a story." Mary MacLeod, of Dalmuir, said first. "I think this is fabulous, Uncle Stuart, Uncle Tav and you too, Argus. I've learned so much of our history already. I know Deb is loving it, right Babe?" Tom said to her, his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh yes. I had no idea of any of this. I think history class would have been far more enjoyable learning about it like this." Deb's face beaming a truly happy smile, completely at ease now, knowing she wasn't held in check by her clan's past.

Everyone expressed their delight at learning their history this way. Tavish called everyone up to get their orders and soon, they were heading back down Davie's Brae to the dock and back on board. Everyone settled into a chair and sat eating their fish and chips, as the yacht pulled out of her berth and sailed slowly back around the point and west to the coast of Skye.

As they rounded the south-west point of Skye, the Point of Sleat, Stuart broke back into the story-telling again.

"Just around the bend from here, there's another story tae tell ye's about. When the MacDonald's of Sleat and our clan were warring. Like they say, there's always a few bad yun's tae spoil things."

Everyone looked from Tavish to Stuart, wondering what happened.

"Aye, that's true. E'en the MacLeod's ha'e their own problems. One of Stuart's ancestor's did'ne like the way things were going and started their own clan, the MacLeod's of Lewis. Tae this day, they'll no get along, am I right, Stuart?" Tavish asked, knowing it was true.

"Aye that's true, Tav. Maybe we'll ha'e tae ha'e another weekend tae tell that story. It's a shame what happened, but it's all history the now." Stuart confirmed Tavish's telling and prompted those wanting to know the story, to speak up.

He got his expected result and all the guests beseeched him to call for another weekend soon. Stuart smiled at the results, as did Tavish and Argus.

"Then another weekend it is. Now, Duncaith Castle is just up there about nine miles. We'll take another trip around tae show ye and tell ye all the things that happened on Eigg, Rum and Muck." Stuart finished and that soon brought about a few snickers.

"What's the laugh?" He asked them.

Everyone laughed a little more and Stuart shrugged his shoulders, "I did'ne make up the names,"

Tom stopped laughing and explained the joke, "It just sounds like a really, bad drink. Uncle Stuart. 'Hi, what'll you have?.... I'll have an egg, rum and muck, make it a double'." at that, Tom started laughing again, along with the others.

"Aye, laugh, Muck in Gaelic means pig and pig means small island. So there's something more tae go on about." Tavish shot at them.

Aye, does sound a wee bit vile, doesn't it?" Stuart quipped and laughed along. "Although, after the stories of what went on, ye'll no think it's that much of a laugh, just so ye know." Tavish added on.

The laughter subsided gradually, as they saw the look on Tavish's face, as well as Argus'. " Ye want tae be in on that one, don't ye Stewart, ye heathen beastie, ye. Love a good beaten, so ye do, as long as it's someone else that's getting it." Tavish jested with him.

"Just as much as ye do MacDonald, ye abominable ogre. Off ye go, back tae yer bridge and scare the wee yun's, why don't ye." Argus shot back, topping Tavish.

"Ogre am I, Argus? How about I scare ye?" to which he turned quickly and growled loudly and aggressively, his face taking on an angry scowl, his hands out quick and fingers ready to grab.

Argus re-acted with a start and backed away in fright, making everyone laugh, and after a quick recovery of his composure, Argus did too.

"I'll ogre ye, ye heathen." Tavish snarled and then the big, friendly smile came out and he hugged Argus to him, showing his real affection for the man.

Everyone enjoyed the moment between the friends, then all at once the scenery captivated them again. Cameras were hurried for, to capture the vista of the coast to starboard and the island of Rum, to port. The raw, majestic beauty of them both, thrust together by nature, shaped, smoothed and scarred by the relentless battering of wind and sea. The coast of Skye was graced with the beauty of the Red Cullins and sea stacks, formed from millennia of waves eroding them.

Then to Rum, with the grand, Victorian estate of Kinloch Castle, built in 1900, by George Bullough, situated stately at the kin of Loch Scresort. Everyone shifted from one side of the boat to the other, making sure they took in everything, before it passed.

"So Argus, want tae finish up about Sloan?" Tavish asked him.

"No, that's enough about him the now. Tell us more of what happened tae Lady Therese and Garreth, Stuart. I think the women all fancy him. Am I right, Ladies?" Argus said, questioning them to answer in favour.