Tìoraidh Ma-tha (Cheerio then) Read online

were buried in their own thoughts, a mixture of anticipation and fear.

  It was Donnchadh that broke the silence, “John, we should be celebrating, we have a chance of a new life and it starts tomorrow, but we are what, wallowing in the past, we have whisky, we have memories and all we have to do tomorrow is get in one of those ships, so drink up.”

  “Your right,” replied John.

  Donnchadh started to laugh. “Remember that time that Morag thought she was pregnant?”

  John started to laugh, “yeah, she was positive that because she had been sick that morning that she was pregnant.”

  “What age were we?”

  “About 8 or 9,” replied John, “Miss Nicolson didn’t know where to look, but Morag was sure she was pregnant.”

  “Morag never told us what Miss Nicolson said to her when she took her out the classroom.”

  “Aye, but her face was bright red when she sat back down,” John took another large drink, “and then suddenly she wasn’t pregnant anymore.”

  “She never even told us who the father was,” replied Donnchadh, this resulted in more laughter from the young men.

  “Do you remember when Thomas said he was going to swim to Australia to find Caitir because he wanted to know if she was happy?” laughed John.

  Donnchadh nodded, “he thought it was next to Skye, and he knew that it was only a day away. He didn’t believe Miss Nicolson when she told him that it would take weeks to get there.”

  “Who would have thought that a few years later Thomas and his family would actually leave Hirta and start a new life in Australia.

  “Wonder if he ever found Caitir to ask her?” asked Donnchadh.

  “What about the time….” The men drank and reminisced until the whisky took over them and they staggered down the hill and poured themselves into their beds.

  3

  Donnchadh was woken early by the sound of people talking; he gently got out his bed and made his way to the kitchen, the house was empty, Donnchadh looked around the kitchen for some milk, his favourite cure for too much whisky the night before, then he remembered the cattle had been taken off the island on the Dunara Castle tourist boat a couple of days before. He took a few hesitant steps and opened the door, the brightness of outside caused him to shield his eyes; people were walking up and down the street, some reciting prayers as they walked. He took a few steps outside and breathed in deeply, after a few moments he felt better, “ceann-daoraich,” he heard someone say to him, he turned quickly towards the voice but he regretted the sudden movement.

  Donnchadh walked down the street and joined the other men who were standing between house number 5 and 6, two men said good morning, the others merely nodded towards him, most looked the same as how he felt.

  The men of the island had met at the same spot, every morning, 6 days a week, since as far back as anyone could remember. This was the Parliament, this was where they decided what had to be done that day, but today there was nothing to do, it felt like the Sabbath but there would be no church to go to this morning, today the villagers would join each other on HMS Harebell, to sail off for a new promised land.

  Donnchadh turned round when he heard his name; he nodded towards John as he slowly approached, “today is the day.”

  One of the men said something and pointed out over the sea; the others turned and watch a ship come into view. One by one the men left the sanctuary of others and went back to their homes.

  “You ready?” asked John.

  Donnchadh nodded before he turned towards the church and its graveyard, “I need to say goodbye to my parents again, one last time,” he eventually added.

  “I better check and see if Grandfather is ready, you know how my Mother worries about him,” replied John, he turned towards a small group of children, “Marsail,” he shouted over towards his little sister, she turned away from the group she was with and ran towards her big brother. “I’ll see you at the pier Donnchadh.”

  “Don’t leave without me Seathan,” he replied in Gaelic.

  “You ready Marsail?” John asked his little sister as she reached him.

  She quickly glanced back at the small group of friend she had just left, “I think so,” she replied hesitantly.

  John put his arm on her shoulder, “don’t worry we will all be together when we get to our new homes.”

  Marsail glanced back at her friends and when she turned back there was a smile on her face, “I’m glad,” she then looked at her big brother, she bit her bottom lip before asking. “Are you scared?”

  John looked around before leaning forward to her, “a wee bit, but don’t tell anyone.”

  She shook her head, “I won’t tell anyone,” she looked around to make sure there was no one around before adding in a lower voice, “I’m scared too.”

  4

  It was 7.30 am and the pier was frantic with activity, locals gathered together in small huddles, whispering in hushed tones about their new lives, whilst tourists ran about trying not to miss the last opportunity to get letters posted from St Kilda.

  It was probably the busiest the small pier had ever been; never again would it be so frantic with locals. A few heads turned as they looked at their old homes one last time, the unlocked doors open for visitors who would never arrive, the open bible left behind for no one to read.

  A blast from the ships horn indicated that it was time to leave; the locals took their final steps on Hirta and boarded the small boats that would take them to HMS Harebell which was anchored in the bay.

  When the last St Kildian took his final step off the pier it ended hundreds of years of life on Scotland’s wild frontier.

  Once everyone was on board, the Harebell set sail, the men huddled in a group in the middle of the deck, whilst the women stood at the back of the ship and waved white handkerchiefs at their former home until it faded into the mist, and was all but a distant memory.

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