FOULA HERITAGE

Foula - The Edge of the World

Journal of an Expedition to Shetland in June, July and August, 1834. By Edward Charlton.

Monday June 23rd. The dreadful howling of the storm this morning intimated to us too plainly we could not proceed to Foulah. A boat and crew of five men belonging to that island have been detained here since Friday last, and the poor fellows are sadly anxious to get home to their families. They have agreed to transport us to the island for twelve shillings, bag and baggage. The distance is eighteen miles across a stormy ocean: how a Deal boatsman would hold up his hands at the exorbitant fare.

Tuesday June 24th. At one this morning, having been scarce two hours in bed, we were roused by the Foulah men thundering at our door with the intelligence that the wind had changed and that they waited for us on the beach. We hurried on our clothes, packed up our luggage as well as time would permit and in a short half hour everything was stowed away in the boat. Mr Scott was already awake, and had prepared for us a large stock of sugar, tea and good oatmeal, none of which articles, said he, were to be found in Foulah, and in addition to all this he stowed away an entire bed with its accompanying sheets and blankets, which we should have sorely missed in that desert isle. We parted in sorrow from the kind hearted man whose benevolence has rendered him universally beloved, and whose house no one ever left without regret.

In Vailley Sound, bounded as it is by high hills on the West, all was smooth and quiet, and I observed with some surprise that Mr Scott at this early hour of the morning followed us along the shore to the farthest promontory of his island. But we soon saw good cause for his fears in the tremendous waves that we encountered upon entering the open Atlantic. As we rounded the point that projected on the western side of the Sound, the sea struck us all at once, so that one half of the boat seemed to be for an instant in smooth water, while the prow was lashed by the foaming waves. In a very short time the tossing of the waves had its usual effect upon Cholmeley, and even I, who had for years ceased to think of sea-sickness, felt for a few minutes giddy and somewhat squeamish, until the old medicine of a hard ship's biscuit revived me. Procter, of course, was as well as could be. He is an excellent sailor and for a landsman quite bold and venturesome upon the water.

The sea indeed was high enough to cause some anxiety among our boatmen, for the white, crested waves constantly discharged a portion of their summits into our boat, and soon rendered us as wet and uncomfortable as we could wish to be. The wind, which for some time had been a point or two to the east of south, now wore round to the westward, and blew right off the island of Foulah. All now wished to return to Vailley save the skipper Lawrence Ratter, one of the best seamen on the island, who thought that 'wi blessin' we might 'yet make him out'.

It was now three a.m. We made a long tack to the eastward, not without danger, as the seas curled right over our deeply laden boat. One of the crew, seated at the head of the boat, kept his eye upon the waves and warned the skipper of their near approach. Having run to the eastward for near an hour, we put about and bore up for Foulah, but alas, we soon found that we had lost way, instead of making any progress, by our last tack. Another consultation was held, but the skipper, though not adverse to returning, prevailed upon his crew to persevere, and these five men sate cheerfully down to their oars to pull a deeply laden boat against wind and tide for a distance of eight miles in a raging sea. For nearly three hours we made little or no progress, and just held our own, for the stacks of Foulah, the landmarks by which we were guided, remained in the same relative position to each other, and I almost despaired of reaching the island. At length, overpowered by the fatigues of the preceding day, I laid myself down to sleep on a wet sack, which contained our bedding and provisions.

On awaking almost powerless with the cold, I found to my great joy that we were within gunshot of the shore, and that I had enjoyed a good sound sleep of three hours, as it was now nine a.m. and we had left Vailley Sound at one in the morning. With a fair wind the voyage from Vailley to Foulah is often accomplished in three hours. We landed at the inlet of Ham, the only harbour for boats on this iron bound coast, and so narrow is it that two boats cannot pass, or can hardly do so, on its waters. As soon as we touched the shore we were welcomed with great joy and cordiality by all the inhabitants, and in particular by the poor woman who kept the 'buith' or store close to the landing place. I soon found she had mistaken me for Mr Hewitson of Newcastle, who had visited the island two years before.

As soon as our luggage was landed some of our boat's crew, without staying to rest after such severe labour, set off up the cliffs to procure birds and their eggs, and in half an hour's time one fourth of the population of Foulah was hanging over the cliffs and adventuring their lives for a few pence. Their frail tenure of existence depended solely upon the support of a rope of hair or of bristles and hemp mixed together, which latter is by the rockmen considered much less liable to be cut by the sharp projecting stones than when the 'tow' is composed exclusively of either material.

We were ushered by the woman who had welcomed us into the only building on the island which could be dignified by the name of 'house'. By way of distinction it was named the 'buith' or, in Old Norse, the ‘bude', because Mr Scott's factor, Mr Petersen, resided therein, and kept a small store of tobacco, spirits and fishing lines for the use of the inhabitants of Foulah. The house had formerly been constructed for Mr Scott of Vailley, the proprietor of the island, and it must have been to the inhabitants an architectural wonder, for it consisted of four stories and four rooms, two of which, at least, if not a third, had been painted and the ceilings whitewashed. The lower rooms were occupied by the woman and her family, who to our great joy never slept upstairs in the bedroom, of which we took possession.

We mounted to our abode with no small difficulty, for many of the stairs were broken or rotted away. On entering our chamber we rejoiced to observe that the roof was in most places entire, and that indeed was no small comfort in this rainy island. In a recess behind the door was a bedstead on which Mr Petersen slept when he was upon the island. We soon made up a comfortable peat fire and proceeded to dry our bedding, and Cholmeley, who was no doubt greatly exhausted by his sufferings during the voyage, lay down to rest on the bedstead, while Procter and I prepared a hearty breakfast. There was an old broken teapot in the house, and moreover exactly three teacups, so that we were able to enjoy the luxury of the China leaf. I may add that there was but one teaspoon in the house, and perhaps not another in the whole island.. While the tea was 'maskin' the housekeeper brought upstairs a whole bicker of porridge, made with Foulah oatmeal, but this dish is always more savoury when the meal is coarse. Besides I must add in justice to the Foulah miller, that his meal smacks less of the grindstone than that I tasted in Shetland. There was an abundance of milk and two gloriously large horn spoons, with the aid of which Procter and I soon saw the bottom of the bicker.

Shortly after, whilst Procter was drying our soaked garments and Cholmeley was still resting on the bed, I left the house and proceeded on a survey of the island. I directed my steps towards the southern extremity, winding through a great many small patches of small corn, which appeared healthy enough, but like the grass around it was extremely short in the straws, and the potatoes did not look promising. Corn is however in a good year very abundant, but the crops are liable, when nearly ripe, to be shaken out and destroyed by the gales of the September Equinox. There are two or three fresh water lochs upon the island of no great extent, and their surface is at all times covered with great numbers of Herring Gulls, Kittiwakes etc. The island consists mainly of three large hills, Liorafield, Hamnifield and the Sneug, with a smaller eminence to the south called the Noup. Between this and the three former, there is a deep valley nearly on a level with the ocean, and running east and west, while the sides of the hills that bound it are extraordinarily steep without being absolutely perpendicular, and are covered to the very summit with short coarse herbage.

I passed a fresh water loch and the south eastern shoulder of Hamnifield, and was walking along the deep valley before mentioned when I was accosted by one of the natives. He said he had been over the rocks for birds, and wished particularly to know the species which I most wanted. I had taken care beforehand to make myself acquainted with the Foulah names for the different birds, to told him I wanted the Lyra (or Manx Puffin), the Tystie (Black Guillemot) and the Mootie (Stormy Petrel) along with Bonsies (Skua) and their eggs, and that I did not wish for either Lomwics, Tanie, Monies, Brongies or Laarqukidins, in plain English for Guillemots, Puffins, Cormorants or Shags. Hearing this he drew forth a Lyra from beneath his jacket, and with it showed me its egg, a rarity indeed; he had taken it, he said, on the Noup about 50 yards below the top of the precipice. The birds are dreadfully savage, and bit his horny fingers most unmercifully. I ordered the man to follow me, and retraced my steps with exaltation towards the 'buith', for Procter had utterly despaired of obtaining a single specimen of the Manx Puffin in Shetland. Right wondrously then was he rejoiced when I brought him the living bird and its egg. I found too on my return that some of the eggs of the Tystie and of Richardson Gull had already been offered for sale during my absence, and that for these he had given the extravagant sum of threepence each, and at this rate we should very soon have been ruined. Soon after a man came down from the hills with six eggs of the Skua Gull, and for these we did not object to give the sum just mentioned. However I told him, I did not wish any more of them, being anxious to preserve that noble bird from destruction. And now birds and eggs of all kinds poured in upon us, and we were constantly in treaty for more. The poor people were anxious enough for money, but received thankfully the small sums that we gave them for having risked their lives, and only in one instance did we meet with anything like discontent. One little boy brought me a quantity of the Cyprea Europea or common Cowrie from the shore, and another, still more extraordinary merchandise, nothing less or more than a quantity of rounded quart pebbles from the beach. But a penny made these little dealers perfectly happy. Fortunately J had brought with me from Lerwick a large assortment of Danish fourpenny, tenpenny and twopenny pieces. These I found to be of great use in Foulah, and indeed the coins of all nations appear to pass current in Shetland, for I received some French five franc pieces at the bank at Lerwick. A short time before we arrived a French smuggler had visited the west coast of Shetland and had landed some excellent Hollands in Foulah, of which we were able to procure as much as we wished for at eighteen pence a bottle.

Peat is luckily abundant in Foulah, and is dried and stacked with great dexterity and neatness by the inhabitants. Without this most necessary article, how comfortless would be their winter. But during that period there is occasionally another cause of high excitement, and of no inconsiderable profit to the Shetlander, in the shape of a wrecked vessel. It is a melancholy fact that the people of Foulah, along with those of the mainland, can never understand that a vessel cast on their iron bound coast does not by that very misfortune become their property. Before the time of Earl Patrick Stuart the Shetlanders are said to have been celebrated for their attention to mariners in distress, but this tyrant is said to have promulgated a law by which it was rendered penal for anyone to assist a shipwrecked mariner or to help them in any way towards the saving of their vessel. The original law, I suspect, cannot be found, and some strong circumstances have lately been brought forward to prove that the law of Earl Patrick Stuart was made with quite a different intention, namely to prevent the natives from plundering the wrecked vessels under pretence of rendering assistance. Be this as it may, the Shetlander, like the wrecker of Cornwall, is never sorry for a shipwreck, and it is always enumerated among his Godsends, with a boat's fare and a drove of whales. I could never make them comprehend the total immorality of these practices.

Another of their superstitions, obviously connected with this, is the repugnance they have to assisting a drowning man, under the idea that he will afterwards do them some deadly harm. Of this revolting belief a melancholy example occurred during the year 1834. A boat containing four men had left Quarff on the eastern coast of Shetland about six in the evening. While near Gulberswick a flann or blast of wind from the land upset the frail craft, and precipitated them all into the deep. At this time it was only dusk, and they were so near the land that their cries were distinctly heard. Not a single individual moved hand or foot to their relief. The people, all able bodied men, collected in a cottage near the beach, where they sat looking in each other's faces till the morning's dawn. Long ere that time the voices of the sufferers were hushed in the waves, but in the commencement of the night their cries for two hours broke upon the panic-struck group upon the shore, and were unheeded.

However it is to be hoped that few or none would now do what was perpetrated in the island of Yell many years ago. During a tremendous gale of wind a Dutch brig ran for shelter into the Bay of Houland, and casting anchor, attached herself for greater security by a strong cable to the rocks. During the night the cable was cut by the natives, the vessel totally wrecked, the crew drowned, and the spoils divided by the murderers.

One more tale of shipwreck, and I have done. In the month of April 1834 a vessel from Belfast, bound for Leith, was driven by a storm out of her course and struck during the night upon the western side of Foulah, at the foot of the rock called the Noup. The darkness prevented the wretched crew from judging of their situation. The mate and a young man names Robert Black jumped from the vessel when she struck upon the rocks, but the latter alone made good his footing. The unfortunate mate was crushed to pieces between the ship's hull and the shore, and in a few minutes the rest of the crew were swallowed up in the waves. For some time the poor lad remained on the ledge of rock upon which he had alighted, but despair aroused him to exertion, and he at length reached the top of the cliff. How he accomplished this in the dark, a height of at least two hundred feet perpendicular, it is impossible to say, but no Foulah man would attempt it in daylight and in his sober senses. It was just at the first morning's dawn of a cold wintry day that he gained the summit of the cliff, and reader may imagine his feelings as he gazed upon this most inhospitable-looking land. He descended into the deep valley between the Noup and Liorafield of which 1 have before spoken, and there by good fortune fell in with a man who at that early hour was returning from his peat stack with a load of fuel. The superstitious Foulah man was terrified by the apparition of a human figure advancing towards him all clothed in white, for the shipwrecked boy had nothing on but his shirt and trousers. His superstition warned him to flee, but ere he could escape, he was accosted by the sprite imploring his assistance and asking in piteous tone if he were in a Christian land. Tor' said my informant, 'he tought he might be mang cannibals.' 'Is it a Trow or a Christian man that speaks to me?' replied the cautious Shetlander. But ere he could well conclude his address, a hearty sailor-like grasp of the hand convinced him he was conversing with real flesh and blood. The poor lad was nursed with great care during his stay upon the island and left it full of gratitude to the hospitable natives.

In the evening after a meal on fish tusk and chickens we walked out to the fishermen's huts on the opposite side of the little islet of Ham. Of the numerous fishing lodges that I had entered in different parts of Shetland, none equalled these for comfort and convenience. The huts, which would barely hold six people, were partly sunk in the ground, I suppose to prevent their being overturned by the violence of the wind. In the centre, of course, was the fire, and around were arranged couches of green turf, soft and pleasant, whereon the tired fishermen reposed at night, and sate during the day when not employed at sea.

Their attention was greatly attracted by our double barrelled guns, which they had never before seen, and one man came actually from the other side of the island to see the guns which fired twice without reloading. A large circle of the islanders gathered around us in the immediate vicinity of the lodges, and just at the right moment a pigeon flew over our heads and was brought down in style by Cholmeley. It was the rock dove Columba Denas, and we wanted to preserve the specimen, but the man who picked it up instantly twisted off the head because, said he, 'You may then with safety eat the bird if you pull off the head and let him bleed well.' Had this any reference to the Jewish prohibition of eating blood? I assured them, however, in order to save my specimens for the future, that I had eaten many pigeons with the head on during my former visits, and had experienced no ill effects from such dangerous diet. But what pleased them most was the manner in which the bird was brought down upon the wing, for such as have guns upon the island never attempt anything beyond a sitting shot.

Wednesday June 25th. All this morning we were busily engaged in stuffing birds, cleaning guns, blowing eggs and the rest of the business of the travelling naturalist. During my stay in Foulah several people, hearing that I was a doctor, came to consult me about their various complaints. The chief disorders to which they seemed to be liable were skin diseases and affections of the chest, the former caused no doubt in a great measure by their fish diet and by the filth and dirt of their habitations, the latter, from the exposure to the sea in all weathers, and to the damp fogs of the Atlantic.

Among the instruments that I had brought with me to Shetland was a compound microscope which I exhibited one day to Lawrence Ratter and his crew. They looked through it and then burst into a fit of laughter, they examined every part of it again and again, at length Lawrence Ratter asked me 'if it was not one of those play acting things' that they had 'read about in books?' It was long ere I could convince him that there was no deception in the whole affair and that the insect, a flea, with which I can answer feelingly they were all well acquainted, was beneath the glasses and only increased in size by the operation. The camera lucida, the telescope, the klinometer and the rifle were all by turns most carefully examined, and excited their share of wonder.

Thursday 26^th The party climbed Liorafield and the Sneug to observe Skuas, and dined well on Livered Moggie and Shetland Ale. After dinner I walked out to visit Lawrence Ratter, who lived about a mile and a half from the buith. Calling at the house of one of his crew, I was forced to partake of some milk and Hollands, and then proceeding on my way I was met at the door of his mansion by the worthy skipper himself and conducted into the interior of his habitation. We entered, of course, in true old Norse fashion, through the offices, or rather the "outhouses," and from thence passed through one door after another to the chamber of dais, where I found seated his wife and children. Everything around bore witness of a superior style to most of the cottages I had seen in Shetland. The whole walls were panelled in woodwork as clean as in Switzerland, and numerous cupboards of good workmanship were ranged around and well-filled to all appearance, with good warm clothing of wadmal and with carpenter's tools and fishing apparatus. It was indeed a remarkable fact to meet with so clean a house amidst the poor inhabitants of Foulah. Satiated, as I already was, the good woman forced me to partake of a "burstin broonie" with a huge bowl of rich, thick milk.

Friday June 27th. To hold our additional luggage which had so much increased in bulk during our sojourn on the island, I purchased this morning a straw basket or capie which answered all our purposes. We took leave of Mr Petersen who is at once factor, schoolmaster and parson, and getting into our boat we sailed away with a fair wind for Papa Stour. As we neared the island its rocks rose majestically out of the blue sea, and though the island is no great height, its cliffs are cut out and shaped with the most fantastic forms. The day was bright and sunny, the wind fair, and long, heavy waves dashed on the western shore of Papa and on the two Voe Skerries still further out in the Atlantic, while in the Sound itself all was tranquil, and we glided safely and securely to the little harbour on the east side of the island. We landed in all haste about two p.m., having accomplished the eighteen miles from Foulah in something less than three hours. Our boatmen were anxious to avail themselves of the fair wind to return to their much loved island, and having carried our luggage up to the 'Ha House', the residence of Mr Gideon Henderson, they left us, and we soon saw their sails careering through the Sound on their homeward voyage.

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