Harkness – MacGillivray Stories

As mentioned, some months had passed, and it was almost as if Ruaridh had forgotten the fact that he had molested the young Morag; it was as if what happened between them was all just something he could forget. Deservingly, it always re-appeared at night in his dreams. This was only the beginning.

He went back to his old ways of drinking, dancing, and singing Gaelic music and storytelling at the old tavern. At such cèilidhs,¹ Ruaridh was always the centrepiece. Effortlessly, he could naturally draw everyone’s eyes toward him. He had a deep, rhythmic, forceful tenor voice that was silhouetted by his strong physique, ruddy countenance, and massive red hair and beard. 

Ruaridh also had a plethora of tales to tell, not only about his personal exploits, such as robbing the laird of guns, whisky, and victuals;² there were also tales passed down through the generations. He had so many stories to tell about courage, passions, slaughter, merriment, and adventures that telling them all would take a lifetime. But there’s one story in particular that he can’t bring himself to tell anyone about, and that is ‘The Tale of Morag’. 

Thus, Ruaridh spent a lot of time at the old Galmisdale Tavern. When he was not telling stories, dancing, or singing, if he had drank too much, he would often get into fights, especially if someone questioned his honour. This earned him a daunting reputation, as mentioned before, when he defended the honour of his sister Flora.  

The ‘Secret’ is Out

However, Ruaridh was mistaken if he imagined that time could heal all scars and hinder secrets from being revealed. Time can only buy a brief reprieve, but it cannot prevent the truth from finally coming out. 

One day after a hard day of work ploughing the fields, Ruaridh returned to his croft as the sun was setting, when he saw his father, Donald, standing in the doorway, sucking on his pipe, with a dark and grim look on his face — just like the clouds before a storm.

Ruaridh Has to Make a Choice

His father’s stern and loud voice jolted him, as he said, “Yer late comin’ hame son. Hae ye bin oot whoring again?”³

“Whit dae ye mean faither?” 

“Haud yer tongue ‘n’ come inside th’ hoose. Ah hae tae talk tae ye,” he said gruffly.⁴

“Sit doon ye dirty dog!” he ordered.⁵ 

“Auld Mackay haes tellt me that ye hae abused his wee granddaughter ‘n’ noo her belly is shamefully big wi’ bairn – yer child!”⁶

“Leave mah house! Leave this island! Ah ne’er wantae see ye again! Ye bring shame oan us Campbells! Violating yer wee defenceless cousin. A huge man lik’ ye, abusing sic a wee lassie! Ye shuid be ashamed o’ yersel’. Ah shuid murdurr ye oan th’ spot!”⁷ 

“You kin wirk as a ploughman oan th’ Isle o’ Muck. Thare is a wee bothy thare, ‘n’ th’ grieve wull pay ye one meal a day – a bowl o’ gruel. Whin yer crime haes bin forgotten – mibbie efter mah death – ye kin return tae this island.”⁸

“Do ye hear whit a’m saying son! Ye hae tae leave th’morra ‘n’ ne’er return!” his father said angrily.⁹ 

“Aye faither,” Ruaridh said quietly looking down at the floor.

Donald was a feisty old man despite his old age and crookedness. Even Ruaridh, who is this man’s own very blood and flesh, cannot deny that he is still afraid of him. His father was immensely huge and strong. If Ruaridh had done something wrong as a boy, his father would sometimes beat him to within an inch of his life. He would beat him with his broad leather strap, which had a large brass buckle at one end.

So Ruaridh dared not disobey his father; his father was much older now, but he still had a violent temper and could still bend an iron poker as if it were a young twig.

“You dae nae deserve it, bit ye hae anither choice. Ah hae talked tae Minister Sinclair. He said ye can avoid banishment from th’ island, if ye marry th’ young lassie afore her bairn is born! But ye hae tae repent yer ways ‘n’ confess yer sin. As repentance, ye hae tae wirk fur th’ neist five years repairing th’ auld kirk.”¹⁰

Ruaridh looked down at the floor. When his father talked of banishment from his folks, his people, and his island, he felt as if his life was coming to an end! But this talk of marriage made his heart skip a beat. He could finally be together with the little girl he had yearned for so many years.However, he had to hide his emotions and just answered humbly, “Yes faither. Ah wull dae it and wull marry th’ lassie. Ah wull repent and repair th’ auld kirk.”¹¹

Sources

1.  ^{A cèilidh is a traditional Scottish or Irish social gathering.} ↩︎
2. ^{An interesting anecdote regarding the dangers of the job is told by Dougald MacKinnon in Eigg the Story of an Island (Dressler, 2007: 87):
   The first Eiggaichs to work as ferrymen were two Galmisdale men, Roderick Campbell (Ruairidh Ruadh) and Alasdair MacKinnon, who manned the MacPherson’s boat, the Isabella. As the steamer could come at any time between ten in the morning and seven in the evening or even later, depending on the cargo it had to unload on the way; once Ruairidh Ruadh and Alasdair were on duty, they had to wait all night if need be until the steamer arrived.
   Their families were quite used to it and they did not worry if they were late. “What happened one day”, tells Dougald MacKinnon, who was to work on the island ferry all his life, “was that after meeting the steamer, when the ferrymen tried to come back ashore fully laden, they just found themselves unable to steer the boat against the wind and the tide. They tried everything they could, they even threw the cargo overboard, all of it, apart from the mailbags, they still couldn’t make it to the shore.
   So what could they do but drift away with the waves and manage the best way they could. They were lucky to land where they did, not far from Arisaig which was the steamer’s calling port, so they were alright in the end. And who was surprised but Ruaridh Ruadh’s wife when she got a telegram telling her that they were safe and sound? She thought they were on Eigg all the time!”} ↩︎
3.  ^{You are late coming home son. Have you been out whoring again?} ↩︎
4.  ^{“Hold your tongue and come inside the cottage. I have to talk to you,” he said gruffly.} ↩︎
5.  ^{“Sit down you dirty dog!” he ordered.} ↩︎
6.  ^{Old man MacKay has told me that ye have violated his little granddaughter and now her belly is shamefully big with child – your child!”} ↩︎
7.  ^{“You have to leave this house and leave this island – I never want to see your face again – bringing shame on us Campbells! Violating your wee harmless and defenceless cousin. A huge man like yourself, violating such a wee lassie. You should be ashamed of yourself. I should kill you on the spot.”} ↩︎
8.  ^{“You can work as a ploughman on the Isle of Muck. There is a small bothy there, and the grieve will pay you one meal a day – a bowl of gruel. When your crime has been forgotten – perhaps after my death – you can return to this island.”} ↩︎
9.  ^{Do you hear what I’m saying son! You have to leave tomorrow and never return!” his father said angrily.} ↩︎
10.  ^{“You don’t deserve it but you have another choice. “I’ve talked to Minister Sinclair. He said you can avoid banishment from the island, if ye marry the young girl before her child is born! But you have to repent your ways and confess your sin. As repentance, ye have to work for the next five years repairing the old kirk.”} ↩︎
11.  ^{“Yes father. I will do it. I will marry the girl. I will repent. I will repair the old kirk.”} ↩︎