Was There Not a Wild Deer Seen at Ness this Summer?
In beautiful sunshine on the evening of the 12th of August 1912, the twenty-five-foot clinker-built skiff affectionately known as a sgoth Nis cleared the breakwater at Port of Ness and sailed north-north-east. Aboard, headed for Sula Sgeir, 41 miles away, were ten of the district's most experienced sailors and guga hunters, their open boat laden with provisions.
Sula Sgeir is no bigger than 900 metres long and 100 metres wide. It has no fresh water, and nothing resembling a natural harbour to land on. Its cliffs are high, steep and slippery, home to thousands of gannets — an essential part of the local diet. Family members watched the sgoth disappear over the horizon and went home thankful that, at least, the evening had stayed pleasant.
Overnight, the weather turned in typical Hebridean fashion — from balmy to stormy. The storm itself was short-lived. But an ominous silence settled among the older fishermen. Had the men reached the rock? Had they managed to land?
Above: Sula Sgeir
Old Fears Resurface
Each of them knew of tragedies past in these North Atlantic waters. They remembered Am Bàthadh Mòr — the Great Drowning of Ness — in 1862. On that day, five boats carrying 31 men of Ness went out to fish their nets and lines, and a pleasant day turned to storm before they could return. The wake it left behind was 24 widows and 71 children fatherless.
Was that day, over fifty years past, niggling at the back of their minds as the calm turned to storm? Adding to their unease was a report of a wild deer spotted in the district. Was a wild deer not a sure sign of drowning?
Three Weeks of Silence
Three weeks passed with no news. At the request of ex-Provost Anderson, councillor for Ness, the authorities in Stornoway acted. HMS Phoenix, based in Stornoway, headed north to investigate. She returned with a worrying report: no sighting of the men was to be had.
The Highland News described the distress in its 12th September 1912 edition:
"The scenes witnessed on receipt of the news will live forever in the memory of those who went through them, and for harrowing detail they assuredly baffled description. Bereaved wives and mothers wept in mortal anguish until they could weep no more; strong men bowed themselves and suffered, and little children and young people wailed in plaintive accents for the dead who return no more."
Time passed.
Men Raised From the Dead
The same paper, on the 14th of September, ran an article under the sub-heading "Men Raised from the Dead — Tremendous Sensation." A wire had reached the paper from their reporter in Stornoway: a certain Captain Palmer, of the Aberdeen-registered trawler Loch Naver, had officially reported landing on Sula Sgeir on the 24th of August and meeting the guga hunters there.
He reported the men were happily plucking the birds and would return home in about a fortnight. There was no mention of any storm.
Captain Palmer's news reached Ness, and the days that followed were ones of great anticipation as the district awaited sight of the sgoth. The paper wrote:
"The effect of this intelligence at Ness was electrical. The joy in the community was indescribable, although all the fear was not dispelled till the men themselves, in the early hours of Thursday morning, lifted the latch of the doors that remained unlocked for their coming and walked in to receive a welcome that, perhaps, was more effusive than it was heartfelt."
Home, and Ordinary Again
The reporter arrived at the breakwater on or around the 13th of September and found the men dividing up their spoils — 2,200 birds in total. His verdict:
"The men looked upon their last venture as quite an ordinary affair."
Modestly, the men described their journey. They had left at teatime on Monday the 12th of August, and by daybreak, still ten miles short of the island, the wind veered north. Landing became impossible, so they made instead for North Rona, eleven miles east-north-east of Sula Sgeir, to find shelter. At no point, they said, did they fear for their safety.
By Thursday afternoon, a window opened, and they made for Sula Sgeir at last, getting to work the moment they arrived.
Recounting their adventure, the men spoke highly of the kindness shown by the skipper and crew of the Loch Naver, who supplied them with fish. Asked about the Phoenix, they remembered harvesting birds on the very day she is said to have passed — yet not one of them had seen her. Could she have mistaken North Rona for Sula Sgeir?
The work itself had been finished eleven days before the men finally found the weather to sail home. They recalled having to wait, patiently, for that window to open.
Perhaps the wild deer had not been sighted in Ness after all?
Source: newspaper reports originally published in The Highland News, September 1912, archived via Hebridean Connections — Part I and Part II.