Some remarkable events are connected with this island. The first we shall advert to is the "Battle of the May."
Our readers have all doubtless heard or read of Sir Andrew Wood of Largo, a famous Scottish admiral in the reign of James III. In the year 1490, King Henry, the English monarch, mortified at the defeat of some of his ships by Admiral Wood the previous year, assembled his officers, and offered rewards to any of them who should take the sea against Sir Andrew, and bring him to him dead or alive. One Stephen Bull, a London merchantman, who, like Sir Andrew Wood, combined the pursuits of warfare and commerce, accepted the offer, and with three large ships set sail for the Frith of Forth, in order to get between Admiral Wood and the land on his return from Flanders, to which he had escorted a fleet of merchantmen.
The English ships anchored under shelter of the Isle of May; and Bull, having captured some sailors, compelled them to give him intelligence about Sir Andrew's movements.
Early by daybreak, on a fine summer morning, the 10th of August, Sir Andrew's two vessels, the one named "The Flower," and the other "The Yellow Carvel," were observed to come in sight, on which the English commander made preparations for engaging them, and distributed wine amongst his men to raise their courage. With regard to the Scottish admiral, Pitscottie the historian says, "On the other hand, Sir Andrew Wood came pertly forward, knowing no impediment of enemies to be in his gate, till at last he perceived their three ships under sail, and coming fast to them in fier of war. Then Sir Andrew Wood, seeing this, exhorted his men to battle, beseeching them to take courage against their enemies of England, who had sworn and made their vows that they should make us prisoners to the King of England, but, God willing, they shall fail of their purpose. Therefore set yourselves in order, every man in his own place. Let the gunners charge their artillery and the cors-bows make them ready; with the lyme-pots and fire-balls in our tops, and twe-handed swords in your fore-arms; and let every man be stout and diligent for his own part and for the honour of Scotland, and thereto he caused fill the wine, and every man drank to other."
The engagement that took place is described as being of the most desperate character. The Scottish admiral contrived to get to windward of the enemy. The fight lasted from sunrise to sunset, and was beheld by an immense crowd of men, women, and children on the coast of Fife. At last the two fleets were parted by the darkness, and drew off from each other, till the daylight next morning again enabled them to see what they were about.
The signal for a renewal of the engagement was then given by blowing of trumpets on both sides, when the two hosts encountered each other again, "and fought so cruely," says our historian, "that neither the skippers or mariners took heed of their ships," but allowed them to drift away with wind and tide till they reached as far as opposite the mouth of the Tay, the crews all the while contending hand to hand. At last the English admiral was compelled to yield, and to give up his sword to Sir Andrew Wood; and his three ships were then towed up to Dundee, where the wounded were landed, and placed under medical care. A few days after, Sir Andrew, our brave countryman, presented the English admiral and his officers to his majesty, James, King of Scotland, who, so far from returning evil for evil, released and sent back Admiral Bull, his officers and men, with their vessels, and with rich gifts as a present to the English king. King Henry of England had thus, in addition to his vexation at this signal defeat, the humiliation of being obliged to acknowledge the generosity and princely bearing of the Scottish king, whom he had insulted and injured without the slightest provocation.
The next occurrence which we shall record is the melancholy accident which took place on the Island of May in January, 1791.
For two evenings no light was exhibited from the lighthouse, and the weather was such as no boat could put off to ascertain the cause. On the third day the storm abated, and a boat was manned from Crail. No sooner had the crew of the boat landed, than they were assailed by a strong sulphurous smell, and proceeding directly to the lighthouse, they found the door shut, and no one answered their call. Forcing an entrance, they saw the keeper, his wife, and five children, all lying suffocated, and a sixth infant sucking its dead mother. In another room were found two men almost expiring, but who, by the timely assistance rendered, providentially recovered. It was supposed that this sad accident was occasioned by some burning coals being blown among some cinders and refuse lying at the bottom of the lighthouse.
The last incident to which we shall refer is the boat disaster at the island in 1837.
On the 1st of July, 1837, a skipper and boat-owner belonging to Cellardyke set sail from that harbour, with a large party, on a pleasure excursion to the Isle of May. The day was fine and wind favourable, and the party, chiefly young men and women, consisting of sixty-five persons, including the crew, were all in high spirits, having music on board, indulging freely in mirth and gaiety, and little thinking of the sad event impending over their heads, by which, in a little half-hour, so many of them were to perish.