THE BLACK RAVEN OF GLENGARRY.
The boundary line between the estates of Glengarry and Kintail was, for ages, a winding river (amhuinn cham, literally “crooked river”) which often overflowed its banks, changed its course, and made encroachments on the land, sometimes on one side and as frequently on the other, causing disputes and quarrels, in regard to their respective rights and limits, between the proprietors of the estates which it separated; the tenantry (an tuath) on each property taking the part of their chief when the strife ran high. In order to put an end to the quarrelling the Chief of Glengarry (Mac ’Ic Alasdair) at this time insisted on a straight line being drawn to mark the boundary between them, but MacKenzie of Kintail would not give his assent to any proposal for changing the old line which followed the course of the river, and the feud broke out afresh (bha an tabaid air a bonn a rithist). Glengarry had three sons, and in the skirmish that took place on that occasion the two eldest sons were killed. The youngest having been left at home on account of his youth, escaped the fate of his brothers. He became known afterwards as the Black Raven of Glengarry. When he grew up to manhood his father said to him one day, “An insulting message (fios tàmailteach) has been sent to me from Kintail about the boundary line, and I must accept the challenge and gather the men, and you must go with us.” “If it is fighting you have in view,” said the Raven, “you must do it yourself, for me; my two dear brothers were killed through your foolish quarrels, and I would have been killed also if I had been old enough to be with them at the time, but since I can now understand how trifling the cause is, I will let yourselves be fighting.” His father could only gather his men and go to the contest without him. When they were out of sight, the Raven put on his best suit of armour and took several turns round the hill to elude the notice of any straggler who might have been left, and then set off at his utmost speed to get in advance of his father and men. Before evening closed he was at the head of Loch Duich, where he passed the night. Next day he procured a plaid of MacKenzie tartan which he wrapped round him to disguise the red badge (suaicheantas dearg) of Glengarry, and made his way to the enemy’s headquarters at Donan Isle (Eilean donnan), where the Kintail men were rapidly gathering to the fray. It was customary in those days to set a large long table (bòrd mòr fada) supplied with abundance of food and drink for the entertainment of the men who assembled from far and near. The Chief sat at the head, and every man on taking his place stuck his dirk (biodag) in the edge of the table in front of him before sitting down. The Black Raven got in among the men unnoticed, and when the Chief of Kintail came in, he said to the man who was beside him, “I wish to sit next to Kintail.” His appearance did not betray him, and no one objected to his request, but when he was taking the seat beside the Chief, he threw MacKenzie backwards on the ground and put his foot upon him to keep him down, and the point of his dirk resting on the breast of the prostrate man. His plaid having slipped aside, the red (an dearg) was exposed, and in an instant a hundred dirks were ready to riddle him (g’ a dheanamh ’n a chriathar-tholl); but he said, commanding them, “The moment I am approached, your Chief will be a dead man.” “If I fall,” he said to the Chief, “it will be on the hilt of my own weapon, and you will never rise—its point is on your breast, and any attempt to take my life imperils yours. I did not come here for war but for peace, and unless you will consent to lay aside all animosities, and solemnly promise never to renew this quarrel, your life is forfeited. I have only to press the hilt of this dagger, on which my hand rests, and whatever fate awaits me you will have no more power to do harm.” Kintail agreed to make peace, and gave his oath twice on the cold iron of the dirk on his breast that he would faithfully keep his promise. The Black Raven, after sharing in the hospitalities provided for the occasion, returned home, the Chief and men of Kintail accompanying him part of the way. When he met his father with his band of fighting men, he told them to return home, that he had done alone more than they had ever been able to do with all their boasting and fighting; he had put an end to their fighting, and got a guarantee for a lasting peace without one drop of bloodshed, and henceforth if he found any one among them making or renewing the quarrel, he would give the Chief of Kintail full liberty to treat them as he saw proper.
The friendship then made between the Chieftains was ever afterwards steadily maintained by them, and the Raven became one of the most distinguished men in the service of his country at that time.
CAILLEACH POINT, OR THE OLD WIFE’S HEADLAND,
Is one of the stormiest and most dangerous headlands on the west coast of Scotland. From base to top it is rocky, and for a considerable distance on each side.
It faces the Island of Coll, and commands a view of the Point of Ardnamurchan, from which it is distant about seven or eight miles. At its base there is a strong tidal channel which has never been known to be dry at the lowest ebb tide. From its highest point the spectre of “Hugh of the Little Head” is said to cross on horseback to Coll to give warning, as he is wont to do, to any descendants of the house of Lochbuie of their approaching end. Hugh is said to have had his head cut off by a broad sword in one of the clan skirmishes of old times. He has his head in a blaze of fire, and the tracks of his horse seen on the snow shew only three legs, and the terror of children and credulous people is increased by his being said to drag a chain after him. To the south of the Point there is a cave, which becomes accessible only when the tide has half fallen. Its Gaelic name is Uamh Bhuaile nan Drogh. Wild pigeons tenant it, and are seen emerging when the tide has fallen. The cooing sound of the birds heard under water seems to have led to the name, which means, the Cave of the Cattle-fold of the fairies, and it is noticeable that the word Drogh denotes that it first received its name from a Teutonic source, very possibly from the race that came ultimately to tenant the Orkney islands. It is said, however, that Dutchmen possessed the fisheries on the west coast of Scotland, and it has been suggested that the word Drogh is from Dragnet, which they kept in the cave. The tides which sweep past this point render it more difficult and dangerous to get past in a head wind than even the Point of Ardnamurchan, of which the dangerous character is well known. To the north of the Point in the direction of Croig in Mull, there is an indentation which is called Achlais na Caillich (the old woman’s oxter or armpit) where salmon nets are set. It has been characterised as not the armpit of a smooth woman (Achlais na mnà mìne) and the story which is said to have given its name to the Headland, is, that an old woman was gathering shell-fish in the neighbourhood when the tide began to make, and the woman finding no other means of escape made a last effort by climbing up the rocks. When at the top, and almost out of danger, she said “I am safe now, in spite of God and men” (Tha mi tearuinte nis ge b’ oil le Dia ’s le daoine). She was converted into a stone forming part of the rock distinctly to be seen from the highest point of Cailleach. It is said that the figure of the old woman was very distinctly to be seen at first, and hence the name of the Headland, but time has done its own work and the figure is not now so unmistakable. Even the origin of the name is only known to those who are natives of the neighbourhood.
On one occasion, the writer being himself ensconced under the side deck of a smack, then plying to the island, heard a Tiree boatman, who was conversing with a minister from the south of Argyleshire, and had no fancy for the overly pious talk of the too-zealous stranger, remarking that there was an old woman here and when she gave a snort, she could be heard over in Coll. [“Tha Cailleach an so ’s trà nì i sreothart cluinnidh iad ’an Cola i.”] The minister said that that was most extraordinary, and as it now began to rain the boatman began to exhort him to go below, and professed much regard for the minister’s health. At last he got rid of him.