Hew Morrison Collection > Bolg solair

THE LAST FERRY.
By AMY MURRAY.
SKJy-j|7K y rHE sail -boat that was to carry me away from Father Allan's
'^Pi.l 'ti^"' ^^^^"^ lay alongside Rudha Ban' ; my little harp, boxed
'J nlf ^°^ ^^^ road, was already set down in the bottom, and
C»-oNjuij;5vo Eoghann, the skipper, with one foot on the gunwale and
one on the rocks, was holding out his hand to steady me across the
slippery sea-ware. And now, I thought, I must be bidding Father Allan
good-bye ; when he said, " I'll see you on your way."
So there were four of us for the ferry — Father Allan, John Duncan
the painter, the girl that was going away to Sasunn- for the f.sh-curing,
and I— besides Eoghann himself and the lads that were to help him
with the sail. They were in the bow, the stern -seat was for Father
Allan, and the thwarts for the rest of us.
We were well on towards the last of September, and the high winds
had already set in ; but this was what the Islesmen call " a day between
two weathers," with nothing to fear, so far as might be seen, from north
nor south. For Father Allan's Island (which is Eriskay on the map)
lies between Niall and Allan— that is to say, between Barra and Uist—
and "when Niall puts on his cap and Ailein his bonnet," she looks for
rain. But now we saw clear sky over Barra hills, that the south-westerly
showers and mists must first be wetting before they can pass over to
Eriskay ; while Ben Mor in Uist had put off his bonnet— or maybe had
(1) White Point — the lii-;ullainl that canie.s the Chapel ajid the Chapel
house on its back.
(2) En?laii(i.
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