But to return to the Bata Caol Cannach, which we left water-logged, and about to sink in the middle of the Minch. It was a remarkable coincidence, that as soon as the cold clay of the fair maiden sank in the sea, the furious storm immediately abated, and the raging billows ceased their wild commotion. The Bata Caol Cannach was then bailed as quickly as possible, and one of the men—Malcolm Macleod—happening to have his plaid along with him, it was hoisted before the wind instead of a sail. The boat’s stern was turned to the wind which drove it forward at a considerable rate, but, being pitch dark, none of them knew whither they were going. A new danger now began to alarm them—the danger of the boat being dashed to pieces on some shore. This fresh evil had only presented itself when the Bata Caol Cannach’s keel struck the ground. The gratitude to an all-ruling Providence that filled their hearts at that moment none but those similarly situated can tell. They immediately leaped ashore, leaving the boat in the spot where it struck; and after wandering about for some time, stumbled upon a house, where they were kindly received and cared for. On entering this house, they discovered that one of their number was amissing, and, hungry and exhausted though they were, they immediately went to search for him, and found him lying insensible in the bows of the boat. He was at once carried to the house which they had just left, and with much care and attention he soon recovered. The place where the Bata Caol Cannach went ashore, and where the men were so hospitably entertained, was Snizort, in the Isle of Skye. It was some time before the Harris-men had thoroughly recovered from the hardships they underwent; but, as soon as they were able to undertake the journey, they returned home.
Kenneth Campbell, Annie’s brother, was afterwards also drowned. He commanded a vessel, and being met by a French pirate, his ship, after being robbed, was sent to the bottom, every soul on board perishing. There are many other anecdotes connected with the men who composed the crew of the Bata Caol Cannach on the occasion referred to, but I must conclude, merely mentioning that the body of the unfortunate Allan Donn was found at the Shiant Isles shortly after the death of his sorrowing lover Annie, and was interred with befitting solemnities in the family sepulchre in Lewis. As an extraordinary coincidence, the body of the fair Annie Campbell was soon after Di-Sathairn an Fhuadaich also found at the Shiant Isle, and in the very spot where the body of her lover had been recovered. Whether it was placed in the same grave as Allan tradition does not record.
Malcolm Macleod, grandson of Malcolm Macleod, whose plaid was used as a sail in the Bata Caol Cannach, an elder in the Free Church at Tarbert, Harris, who only died about two years ago, repeatedly told me the above story. The Bata Caol Cannach was so called on account of having been purchased by the Campbells from a man in the island of Canna.
MARY MACLEOD AND HER LOVER.
Marrig House stands on a gentle declivity near the upper end of Loch-Seaforth, a bay some miles in length, in the Outer Hebrides. It was in olden times a structure of the most primitive description. Its walls, some six feet in thickness, and about four feet in height, were built of sods, earth, and mountain boulders; and its roof of pieces of wreckage found on the sea-shore, covered over with sods, ferns, and rushes. It had neither window or chimney, save a rude opening at the top of the wall, and an old creel stuck into the ridge, which served the double purpose of admitting light and emitting the dense volumes of smoke which invariably darkened the interior. The fire was in the centre of the clay-made floor. The cooking utensils were suspended from the rafters by a heather rope. The partitions, made of boards, pieces of wreckage, and old sails, did not extend higher than the level of the walls.
Being on a portion of the estate of Harris—which was from time immemorial possessed by the branch of the Macleods known as Siol Thormaid—Marrig House was occupied by a Macleod; and not unfrequently did it afford temporary shelter and entertainment to the Chief of Siol Thormaid himself, when following the chase in the adjoining forests. It was from this house that Sir Rory Mor Macleod of Dunvegan and Harris, while laid up with a bad leg, wrote, on the 2nd of September 1596, a letter to King James, acknowledging receipt of the King’s charge, of the 18th of August, commanding him to be at Islay with all his forces on the second day thereafter, under pain of treason, and explaining that it was impossible to comply with His Majesty’s orders, even ‘althocht my hail force haid beine togidder, and wund and widder serued one at eiverir airt.’ But the house which was then at Marrig has long since disappeared, and a more substantial and modern one now stands in its place. The tenant of Marrig was locally called ‘Fear Mharig,’ or the good man of Marrig, a term which was and still is applied in the Highlands to large tenants.
Marrig at the time of which we write was tenanted by a near relation of the Chief of Siol Thormaid, a brave, prudent, and upright man. He had an only daughter, his heiress, upon whom Nature had bestowed no small share of her favours; she was as modest and tender-hearted as she was beautiful. She was courted and sought after by all the young gentlemen of the island; but being devotedly attached to her father, whom she idolized, and on whose advice and counsel she invariably acted, their proffered suits were always rejected, until circumstances which took place in the neighbourhood of Glasgow at that time brought a new and more successful suitor on the scene.