My involvement with the First World War history of Lewis stems from a feeling that I, coming from one of the European countries occupied by Nazi Germany between 1940 and '45, owe a debt of gratitude towards British (and other) forces who were instrumental in lifting the yoke of national-socialism. I would like to think that digitising this aspect of Lewis history will serve to repay a minute portion of that debt.
I have no personal connection to the island, nor to any of the men whose story is told in these posts. Maybe this makes it easier for me to work through this history, as I am not emotionally involved. I can however empathise with the pain, felt by relatives and friends, who suffered bereavements in the Great War. But it is not possible to imagine what the aftermath of the Iolaire Disaster must have felt like, when more than 200 were lost at a stroke in the early hours of New Year's Day 1919.
My work, as displayed in my Internet output, is dedicated to the memory of the 1,300 men from the Isle of Lewis lost in the Great War of 1914-1919.
Repost from 2010, and from Facebook (today).
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
Thursday, 4 April 2013
Black Watch memorial
A memorial statue to the Black Watch regiment, and the sacrifices made by its servicemen, is to be unveiled in Belgium. The Isle of Lewis lost 6 of its sons who served in that regiment during the Great War. These are their details.
Private MALCOLM MACLEOD
Last address in Lewis: 8 Tong,
Service unit: 1st Black Watch
Service number: 5881
Date of death: 9 May 1915
Killed in action
Memorial: Le Touret, panel 24 to 26
Local memorial: Back
Wounded at Ypres
Sergeant JOHN MACLEOD
Last address in Lewis: 7 Kirivick,
Son of John Macleod
Service unit: 12th Black Watch (Royal Highlanders), Labour Corps transf. to (Serjt. 2404). 5th Coy.
Service number: 4274
Date of death: 2 June 1917
Killed in action in France
Interred: Trois Arbres Cemetery, Steenwerck; grave I. M. 11
Local memorial: Carloway
Private JOHN MACLEOD
Last address in Lewis: 5 Broker,
Service unit: Black Watch
Date of death: 1918 at the age of 21
Killed in action in France
Local memorial: Point (Garrabost)
Private EVANDER MACDONALD
Last address in Lewis: 1 Upper Bayble,
Son of Malcolm Macdonald and Ann Mackenzie
Service unit: 6th Black Watch (Royal Highlanders)
Service number: S/24568
Date of death: 24 October 1918 at the age of 26
Killed in action
Interred: Cambrai East Military Cemetery, grave I. A. 23.
Local memorial: Point (Garrabost)
Private ARCHIE MURRAY
Last address in Lewis: 25 Newton Street, Stornoway
Son of John and Catherine Murray
Service unit: 1st / 7th Black Watch
Service number: 292771
Date of death: 25 April 1917 at the age of 28
Killed in action
Interred: Brown's Copse Cemetery, Roeux, grave II. C. 17
Local memorial: Lewis War Memorial
Private JOHN MURRAY
Last address in Lewis: 25 Newton Street, Stornoway
Son of John and Catherine Livingstone Murray, of 104 Kilbowie Road, Clydebank, Dumbartonshire.
Service unit: 2nd Black Watch (Royal Highlanders)
Service number: S/7278
Date of death: 17 June 1918 at the age of 33
Interred: Ramleh War Cemetery, Israel, grave K. 47
Enlisted at Clydebank.
Born at Partick, Glasgow
Private MALCOLM MACLEOD
Last address in Lewis: 8 Tong,
Service unit: 1st Black Watch
Service number: 5881
Date of death: 9 May 1915
Killed in action
Memorial: Le Touret, panel 24 to 26
Local memorial: Back
Wounded at Ypres
Sergeant JOHN MACLEOD
Last address in Lewis: 7 Kirivick,
Son of John Macleod
Service unit: 12th Black Watch (Royal Highlanders), Labour Corps transf. to (Serjt. 2404). 5th Coy.
Service number: 4274
Date of death: 2 June 1917
Killed in action in France
Interred: Trois Arbres Cemetery, Steenwerck; grave I. M. 11
Local memorial: Carloway
Private JOHN MACLEOD
Last address in Lewis: 5 Broker,
Service unit: Black Watch
Date of death: 1918 at the age of 21
Killed in action in France
Local memorial: Point (Garrabost)
Private EVANDER MACDONALD
Last address in Lewis: 1 Upper Bayble,
Son of Malcolm Macdonald and Ann Mackenzie
Service unit: 6th Black Watch (Royal Highlanders)
Service number: S/24568
Date of death: 24 October 1918 at the age of 26
Killed in action
Interred: Cambrai East Military Cemetery, grave I. A. 23.
Local memorial: Point (Garrabost)
Private ARCHIE MURRAY
Last address in Lewis: 25 Newton Street, Stornoway
Son of John and Catherine Murray
Service unit: 1st / 7th Black Watch
Service number: 292771
Date of death: 25 April 1917 at the age of 28
Killed in action
Interred: Brown's Copse Cemetery, Roeux, grave II. C. 17
Local memorial: Lewis War Memorial
Private JOHN MURRAY
Last address in Lewis: 25 Newton Street, Stornoway
Son of John and Catherine Livingstone Murray, of 104 Kilbowie Road, Clydebank, Dumbartonshire.
Service unit: 2nd Black Watch (Royal Highlanders)
Service number: S/7278
Date of death: 17 June 1918 at the age of 33
Interred: Ramleh War Cemetery, Israel, grave K. 47
Enlisted at Clydebank.
Born at Partick, Glasgow
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Died in internment
John Macleay of Lower Shader was interned in Holland from October 1914. After his death in August 1915, the Groningen newspaper Nieuwsblad van het Noorden gave a full account of the ceremony surrounding his burial in the Zuiderbegraafplaats cemetery in the city. The translation is given below the summary of John's personal and military information.
Seaman JOHN MACLEAY
Last address in Lewis: 38 Lower Shader,
Son of John and Annie MacLeay. Born at Shader Barvas, Lewis.
Service unit: Royal Naval Division, Collingwood Battallion
Service number: CH/2588/B
Date of death: 26 August 1915 at the age of 31
Died in Groningen during internment in Holland
Interred: Groningen Southern cemetery, Holland North-West part, Class 4, row 37
Local memorial: North Lewis, Borve
Nieuwsblad van het Noorden, Groningen, Holland, 30 August 1915
"On Saturday morning at 10 o'clock, the funeral took place of the English internee John MacLeay, who succumbed to tuberculosis in the Academic Hospital here. At 10 o'clock, the coffin was placed on the bier, carried by twelve internees. The entire bier was covered in a host of flowers, shaped like anchors, crosses and wreaths. It was a serious and solumn moment when the bier with the deceased passed through a double guard of honour, consisting of a company of internees, and a thick throng of spectators behind, on its way to the final resting place, far from his native land, far from his family. The internees' musicians went ahead. The drums were covered in shrouds of mourning. Sad but solemnly the "Dead March" from "Saul" by Handel was played. Four military policemen rode ahead to clear a path through the thick throng of spectators, who were waiting on the pavements or walking ahead of the cortege. Police and militia were fully occupied in keeping the attending spectators out of the cortege, but public order was maintained in an exemplary fashion.
The firing squad, consisting of 6 Dutch soldiers, commanded by a lieutenant, followed the bier, behind which followed three clergymen, one in full robes, and the company of about 300 internees. Twenty-four Dutch accompanying forces came behind these. Commodore Henderson and captain Broertjes were also observed. The large crowd of spectators lined the route, from Oostersingel, Nieuwe Weg, Poelestraat, Oosterstraat, Rademarkt, Heeresingel and Heereweg.
At the cemetery, another guard of honour of English internees was lined up in two rows. Apart from the commandant of the internment depot and the chief constable of police, several Dutch naval officers, non-commissioned officers and lower ranks were present. The twelve internees, who had walked beside the bier through the city streets, now once more acted as bearers, whilst the firing squad took up positions at the entrance to the cemetery. Slowly, the coffin, draped in the English flag, was carried on the bearers' shoulders into the cemetery. An order from the lieutenant broke the profound silence. Aim high! Fire salvo! Fire! Six shots rang out. Inside the cemetery, several NCO's and lower ranks were lined up who saluted as the coffin was carried past, now also followed by other figures in authority. When the coffin was at the graveside, the firing squad, now consisting of 7 men, fired a salvo over the coffin.
The trumpeteers sounded signals and Rev. D. McDougall led in prayer. After reading Psalm 90 in English, he requested the Scottish sailors to sing two verses from psalm 14 in the Celtic language, precented by Ordinary Sailor MacDonald. This singing made a deep impression on those present. Rev. Coryton from Rotterdam read 1 Corinthians 15, and Rev Miedema Revelations 22, after which Rev. Thomson from Amsterdam closed the ceremony with prayer. The internees now lowered the coffin into the grave, upon which the firing squad fired another salvo over the coffin. This ended the ceremony.
Nine wreaths covered the bier, with the following texts: "With deepest sympathy 1. from Gaelic Scotchmen in Hawke Battalion, 2. from his Scotch Friends as. R.F.R. - R.N.V.R. and 3. from the Dutch officers of the Internment Depot, 4. from the interned members of the camp, 5. from Commodore Henderson, 6. an anchor from Gaelic Scotchmen in Benbow Battalion, 7. a glass box with wreath of the R.N.R. Collingwood Battalion, 8. from his comrades D. Company Collingwood Battalion 1st Naval Brigade, 9. a cross. In the afternoon, when the cemetery was also open to the public, many took the opportunity to visit the grave".
Seaman JOHN MACLEAY
Last address in Lewis: 38 Lower Shader,
Son of John and Annie MacLeay. Born at Shader Barvas, Lewis.
Service unit: Royal Naval Division, Collingwood Battallion
Service number: CH/2588/B
Date of death: 26 August 1915 at the age of 31
Died in Groningen during internment in Holland
Interred: Groningen Southern cemetery, Holland North-West part, Class 4, row 37
Local memorial: North Lewis, Borve
Nieuwsblad van het Noorden, Groningen, Holland, 30 August 1915
"On Saturday morning at 10 o'clock, the funeral took place of the English internee John MacLeay, who succumbed to tuberculosis in the Academic Hospital here. At 10 o'clock, the coffin was placed on the bier, carried by twelve internees. The entire bier was covered in a host of flowers, shaped like anchors, crosses and wreaths. It was a serious and solumn moment when the bier with the deceased passed through a double guard of honour, consisting of a company of internees, and a thick throng of spectators behind, on its way to the final resting place, far from his native land, far from his family. The internees' musicians went ahead. The drums were covered in shrouds of mourning. Sad but solemnly the "Dead March" from "Saul" by Handel was played. Four military policemen rode ahead to clear a path through the thick throng of spectators, who were waiting on the pavements or walking ahead of the cortege. Police and militia were fully occupied in keeping the attending spectators out of the cortege, but public order was maintained in an exemplary fashion.
The firing squad, consisting of 6 Dutch soldiers, commanded by a lieutenant, followed the bier, behind which followed three clergymen, one in full robes, and the company of about 300 internees. Twenty-four Dutch accompanying forces came behind these. Commodore Henderson and captain Broertjes were also observed. The large crowd of spectators lined the route, from Oostersingel, Nieuwe Weg, Poelestraat, Oosterstraat, Rademarkt, Heeresingel and Heereweg.
At the cemetery, another guard of honour of English internees was lined up in two rows. Apart from the commandant of the internment depot and the chief constable of police, several Dutch naval officers, non-commissioned officers and lower ranks were present. The twelve internees, who had walked beside the bier through the city streets, now once more acted as bearers, whilst the firing squad took up positions at the entrance to the cemetery. Slowly, the coffin, draped in the English flag, was carried on the bearers' shoulders into the cemetery. An order from the lieutenant broke the profound silence. Aim high! Fire salvo! Fire! Six shots rang out. Inside the cemetery, several NCO's and lower ranks were lined up who saluted as the coffin was carried past, now also followed by other figures in authority. When the coffin was at the graveside, the firing squad, now consisting of 7 men, fired a salvo over the coffin.
The trumpeteers sounded signals and Rev. D. McDougall led in prayer. After reading Psalm 90 in English, he requested the Scottish sailors to sing two verses from psalm 14 in the Celtic language, precented by Ordinary Sailor MacDonald. This singing made a deep impression on those present. Rev. Coryton from Rotterdam read 1 Corinthians 15, and Rev Miedema Revelations 22, after which Rev. Thomson from Amsterdam closed the ceremony with prayer. The internees now lowered the coffin into the grave, upon which the firing squad fired another salvo over the coffin. This ended the ceremony.
Nine wreaths covered the bier, with the following texts: "With deepest sympathy 1. from Gaelic Scotchmen in Hawke Battalion, 2. from his Scotch Friends as. R.F.R. - R.N.V.R. and 3. from the Dutch officers of the Internment Depot, 4. from the interned members of the camp, 5. from Commodore Henderson, 6. an anchor from Gaelic Scotchmen in Benbow Battalion, 7. a glass box with wreath of the R.N.R. Collingwood Battalion, 8. from his comrades D. Company Collingwood Battalion 1st Naval Brigade, 9. a cross. In the afternoon, when the cemetery was also open to the public, many took the opportunity to visit the grave".
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Change of name
Norman Martin, 30 Upper Shader, was a regular soldier in the Scots
Guards. For some reason he left the regiment and rejoined later under
another name. John Macdonald (he may or may not have used the same
address). He was wounded and died the following day in 1916.
I have found a John Macdonald, (11333) Scots Guards, who died 19 June 1916 but place of birth quoted as Glasgow. Maybe; but the connection is not strong enough.
I have found a John Macdonald, (11333) Scots Guards, who died 19 June 1916 but place of birth quoted as Glasgow. Maybe; but the connection is not strong enough.
Wednesday, 6 February 2013
Seven sons
The Roll of Honour mentions a family of Macivers, living at Carnan House in North Shawbost. Nowadays, Carnan House is known as the Inn-Between, lying about 200 yards off the main road between Shawbost and Bragar. The Macivers had come from Lochcarron, where the 1901 census shows them with 11 children, ranging in age from 1 to 16.
I summarise the census return for the Police Station at Lochcarron.
John (who originates from Uig, Lewis) is aged 53, and a police sergeant. He is married to Isabella (42, from Barvas, Lewis) and has 11 children at the time. Apart from Iver (or Evander), the census shows Helen (16), John (14), Donald (13), Mary (11), Kenneth (9), Isaac (8), Isabella Margaret (4), Roderick (3), Angus (2) and Kate Jane (1).
The boys, as listed in the 1901 census, all joined up for the First World War. Two lost their lives, Evander in 1916, serving with the Canadians and Kenneth in the same year,whilst serving in the Ross Mountain Battery. The other five brothers survived. John was a Quartermaster Sergeant; Isaac a captain and Roderick likewise served in the Seaforth Highlanders. Donald was in the Canadians, and Angus was a mechanic in the Royal Air Force.
I summarise the census return for the Police Station at Lochcarron.
John (who originates from Uig, Lewis) is aged 53, and a police sergeant. He is married to Isabella (42, from Barvas, Lewis) and has 11 children at the time. Apart from Iver (or Evander), the census shows Helen (16), John (14), Donald (13), Mary (11), Kenneth (9), Isaac (8), Isabella Margaret (4), Roderick (3), Angus (2) and Kate Jane (1).
The boys, as listed in the 1901 census, all joined up for the First World War. Two lost their lives, Evander in 1916, serving with the Canadians and Kenneth in the same year,whilst serving in the Ross Mountain Battery. The other five brothers survived. John was a Quartermaster Sergeant; Isaac a captain and Roderick likewise served in the Seaforth Highlanders. Donald was in the Canadians, and Angus was a mechanic in the Royal Air Force.
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
The Iolaire story
This is the full story, as told in five parts between 7.30pm on December 31st and 9.10 am on January 1st.
It is Hogmanay 1918, and the war has been over for seven weeks. Survivors from the Western Front and the war at sea are flocking home. As are hundreds of sailors from the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. Three trains pull into the harbourside station at Kyle of Lochalsh, and hundreds pour onto the platform and adjoining quayside to join a ferry home. The Skye men can take the short hop to Kyleakin, or join the steamer north to Portree. The sailors and soldiers from the Outer Hebrides have a longer journey ahead of them.
The mailsteamer for Stornoway, the Sheila is alongside at Kyle, but it very rapidly becomes clear that she has nowhere near enough space to accommodate the hundreds that want to go home to Lewis and Harris. So, a cable is sent to the naval base at Stornoway, and Rear Admiral Boyle sends HMY Iolaire to Kyle to relieve the congestion. Iolaire, the former private steamyacht Amalthea arrives in the early evening, bumping into the pier as she docks.
A disorganised scramble occurs, where the throng of men divides between the Sheila and the Iolaire. No record is kept as to who goes on board which vessel. Some start off by boarding the Iolaire, then switch to the Sheila. Others do the reverse swap. Finally, at half past seven, Iolaire casts off and heads north. The Sheila follows suit in short order.
The year 1918 is drawing to a close and Big Ben in London is about to start striking the midnight hour. Six hundred miles to the north, HMY Iolaire is ploughing her way north through the Minch, passing between Raasay, Rona and the Scottish mainland. The weather, which had been reasonable upon departure from Kyle, is turning increasingly windy. A heavy swell is beginning to rise in response to the strong southerly wind. The lighthouses, which serve as reference points for mariners in the Minch, blink their messages to Iolaire. Milaid, on the rocky cliffs near Kebock Head; Rona; Tiumpan Head on the eastern extremity of the Point Peninsula; and Arnish, near the entrance to Stornoway Harbour.
In dozens of houses in Lewis, glasses are charged to the New Year. The last year of war is ending.
Dry clothes are draped over beds, a stew is heating over the fire. In the blackhouses in Ness, and the town houses of Stornoway. A kettle is at the ready on the stove. A plate, cutlery and cups on the table. From Eoropie to Brenish, from Lemreway to North Tolsta, and between Manor Park and Newton, the same scene is repeated over and over. Only two hours to go, the boat won't make Hogmanay. But it does not really matter, the boys will be home soon.
The clock strikes midnight. It is 1919.
Conditions in the Minch are now poor, and all on board Iolaire are glad that the journey is nearly over. The passengers, most of them familiar with the passage to Stornoway, are snoozing their way, lulled to slumber by the steady if roughish motion of the waves that Iolaire rides. The captain goes down below to rest, his second-in-command takes over on the bridge. A fishing boat is also on its way home to Stornoway, and is running a broadly parallel course to Iolaire.
The passengers can now see the lights of Stornoway ahead, as well as the familiar signal of the Arnish Lighthouse and its secondary beacon. All begin to stir and start to prepare for disembarkation, which is now only about a quarter of or half an hour away. But all is not well. The sound of waves striking shore becomes audible over the noise of wind and swell.
The next noise is a far greater one. Iolaire changes course abruptly, as the crew realise they have overshot the harbour entrance. But it is too late. At 1.55 am, the ship comes to a crashing halt on the rocks of the Beasts of Holm.
Iolaire was mortally damaged by her grounding, and would eventually slip from the rocks and sink into the depths beside the Beasts of Holm. Only her mast would be left showing above the waves.
Flares were let off, which were spotted by the fishing boat and the Sheila, which were running into Stornoway behind Iolaire. Conditions, however, were too severe for any direct help to be offered by any vessel, as they would place themselves into severe danger. One intrepid man managed to bring a hawser ashore, which was to become a literal lifeline for nearly four dozen souls. Others attempted to use the lifeboats, which were almost immediately swamped by the heavy swell, or smashed on the rocks nearby. For Iolaire only grounded about 50 yards from shore. Those who jumped into the sea drowned almost at once, or were smashed onto the rocks, left lifeless. A life-saving apparatus, a breeches' buoy, which had been brought from Stornoway, came way too late to be useful.
Some of those that survived made their way to Stoneyfield Farm, about half a mile from the scene of Iolaire's sinking, and their terrible news was relayed to Stornoway. The flares had been spotted from the town, but had been (mis)taken for celebratory rockets.
The houses waited. The stew over the fire, the teapot on the stove. The clothes on the bed, and the made up table. The families, friends and other islanders waited. Then news filtered through into, and from Stornoway. The Iolaire was lost. Several dozen had been saved. But so many more were not. A night of terrifying uncertainty drew on. Would he be among the saved?
It is early January, and daylight is still many hours away.
It is just after 9 o'clock, and the sun rises over the mountains of mainland Scotland. Its light sweeps west, and shows up a ship's mast protruding from the sea, only a few dozen yards from the shore of Holm Point. The figure of a man can be made out, as he holds on for dear life. As he has done for nigh upon seven hours. Others had been with him, but their strength had given out, and had fallen into the sea below. The man is saved from his precarious position. He had been one of about three hundred on board Iolaire who had left Kyle the evening before, expecting to arrive in Stornoway at 2 am. Instead, two hundred would never return home, and some sixty would never be retrieved.
A gruesome sight presented itself on the shores, beaches and rocky outcrops of eastern Lewis, around the bay of Stornoway. East to Knock, north to Sandwick and Stornoway, south to Grimshader. One hundred and forty bobbed on the tide, lost in the Iolaire. Those that could be retrieved were taken to the naval base at the Battery in Stornoway, to be identified and collected by family.
Those who had not yet had news of the tragedy would soon receive it, as elders of the church went round, the bearers of the news of loss. A brother, a father. An uncle, a nephew. A son, a cousin. No village was spared. No family who was not directly or indirectly affected. The stories abound, but are not readily told.
It is 2013, and dawn has broken on a new year. Four years ago, several hundred gathered at the little memorial at Holm Point to remember. It was a beautiful mild winter's day, with not a breath of wind. We looked south, across the Minch, where the jagged humps of the Shiants, the distant lines of Skye, and on a day of exceptional clarity, even the hills behind Kyle can be made out, 75 miles away. In this day and age, a short journey. In 1919, a journey that was never completed by two hundred and five souls.
Rest in peace.
A full listing of names can be found here
Postscript
The exact cause for the foundering of HMY Iolaire has never been fully cleared up, and theories abound. There are accusations of a cover-up by the Royal Navy, drunkenness on the part of the crew, and speculation on the factors played by the weather. It is not the object of this blog to apportion blame, or determine the exact cause for the tragedy. This is a tribute to the two hundred and five who perished at the Beasts of Holm that New Year's night in 1919.
It is Hogmanay 1918, and the war has been over for seven weeks. Survivors from the Western Front and the war at sea are flocking home. As are hundreds of sailors from the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. Three trains pull into the harbourside station at Kyle of Lochalsh, and hundreds pour onto the platform and adjoining quayside to join a ferry home. The Skye men can take the short hop to Kyleakin, or join the steamer north to Portree. The sailors and soldiers from the Outer Hebrides have a longer journey ahead of them.
The mailsteamer for Stornoway, the Sheila is alongside at Kyle, but it very rapidly becomes clear that she has nowhere near enough space to accommodate the hundreds that want to go home to Lewis and Harris. So, a cable is sent to the naval base at Stornoway, and Rear Admiral Boyle sends HMY Iolaire to Kyle to relieve the congestion. Iolaire, the former private steamyacht Amalthea arrives in the early evening, bumping into the pier as she docks.
A disorganised scramble occurs, where the throng of men divides between the Sheila and the Iolaire. No record is kept as to who goes on board which vessel. Some start off by boarding the Iolaire, then switch to the Sheila. Others do the reverse swap. Finally, at half past seven, Iolaire casts off and heads north. The Sheila follows suit in short order.
The year 1918 is drawing to a close and Big Ben in London is about to start striking the midnight hour. Six hundred miles to the north, HMY Iolaire is ploughing her way north through the Minch, passing between Raasay, Rona and the Scottish mainland. The weather, which had been reasonable upon departure from Kyle, is turning increasingly windy. A heavy swell is beginning to rise in response to the strong southerly wind. The lighthouses, which serve as reference points for mariners in the Minch, blink their messages to Iolaire. Milaid, on the rocky cliffs near Kebock Head; Rona; Tiumpan Head on the eastern extremity of the Point Peninsula; and Arnish, near the entrance to Stornoway Harbour.
In dozens of houses in Lewis, glasses are charged to the New Year. The last year of war is ending.
Dry clothes are draped over beds, a stew is heating over the fire. In the blackhouses in Ness, and the town houses of Stornoway. A kettle is at the ready on the stove. A plate, cutlery and cups on the table. From Eoropie to Brenish, from Lemreway to North Tolsta, and between Manor Park and Newton, the same scene is repeated over and over. Only two hours to go, the boat won't make Hogmanay. But it does not really matter, the boys will be home soon.
The clock strikes midnight. It is 1919.
Conditions in the Minch are now poor, and all on board Iolaire are glad that the journey is nearly over. The passengers, most of them familiar with the passage to Stornoway, are snoozing their way, lulled to slumber by the steady if roughish motion of the waves that Iolaire rides. The captain goes down below to rest, his second-in-command takes over on the bridge. A fishing boat is also on its way home to Stornoway, and is running a broadly parallel course to Iolaire.
The passengers can now see the lights of Stornoway ahead, as well as the familiar signal of the Arnish Lighthouse and its secondary beacon. All begin to stir and start to prepare for disembarkation, which is now only about a quarter of or half an hour away. But all is not well. The sound of waves striking shore becomes audible over the noise of wind and swell.
The next noise is a far greater one. Iolaire changes course abruptly, as the crew realise they have overshot the harbour entrance. But it is too late. At 1.55 am, the ship comes to a crashing halt on the rocks of the Beasts of Holm.
Iolaire was mortally damaged by her grounding, and would eventually slip from the rocks and sink into the depths beside the Beasts of Holm. Only her mast would be left showing above the waves.
Flares were let off, which were spotted by the fishing boat and the Sheila, which were running into Stornoway behind Iolaire. Conditions, however, were too severe for any direct help to be offered by any vessel, as they would place themselves into severe danger. One intrepid man managed to bring a hawser ashore, which was to become a literal lifeline for nearly four dozen souls. Others attempted to use the lifeboats, which were almost immediately swamped by the heavy swell, or smashed on the rocks nearby. For Iolaire only grounded about 50 yards from shore. Those who jumped into the sea drowned almost at once, or were smashed onto the rocks, left lifeless. A life-saving apparatus, a breeches' buoy, which had been brought from Stornoway, came way too late to be useful.
Some of those that survived made their way to Stoneyfield Farm, about half a mile from the scene of Iolaire's sinking, and their terrible news was relayed to Stornoway. The flares had been spotted from the town, but had been (mis)taken for celebratory rockets.
The houses waited. The stew over the fire, the teapot on the stove. The clothes on the bed, and the made up table. The families, friends and other islanders waited. Then news filtered through into, and from Stornoway. The Iolaire was lost. Several dozen had been saved. But so many more were not. A night of terrifying uncertainty drew on. Would he be among the saved?
It is early January, and daylight is still many hours away.
It is just after 9 o'clock, and the sun rises over the mountains of mainland Scotland. Its light sweeps west, and shows up a ship's mast protruding from the sea, only a few dozen yards from the shore of Holm Point. The figure of a man can be made out, as he holds on for dear life. As he has done for nigh upon seven hours. Others had been with him, but their strength had given out, and had fallen into the sea below. The man is saved from his precarious position. He had been one of about three hundred on board Iolaire who had left Kyle the evening before, expecting to arrive in Stornoway at 2 am. Instead, two hundred would never return home, and some sixty would never be retrieved.
A gruesome sight presented itself on the shores, beaches and rocky outcrops of eastern Lewis, around the bay of Stornoway. East to Knock, north to Sandwick and Stornoway, south to Grimshader. One hundred and forty bobbed on the tide, lost in the Iolaire. Those that could be retrieved were taken to the naval base at the Battery in Stornoway, to be identified and collected by family.
Those who had not yet had news of the tragedy would soon receive it, as elders of the church went round, the bearers of the news of loss. A brother, a father. An uncle, a nephew. A son, a cousin. No village was spared. No family who was not directly or indirectly affected. The stories abound, but are not readily told.
It is 2013, and dawn has broken on a new year. Four years ago, several hundred gathered at the little memorial at Holm Point to remember. It was a beautiful mild winter's day, with not a breath of wind. We looked south, across the Minch, where the jagged humps of the Shiants, the distant lines of Skye, and on a day of exceptional clarity, even the hills behind Kyle can be made out, 75 miles away. In this day and age, a short journey. In 1919, a journey that was never completed by two hundred and five souls.
Rest in peace.
A full listing of names can be found here
Postscript
The exact cause for the foundering of HMY Iolaire has never been fully cleared up, and theories abound. There are accusations of a cover-up by the Royal Navy, drunkenness on the part of the crew, and speculation on the factors played by the weather. It is not the object of this blog to apportion blame, or determine the exact cause for the tragedy. This is a tribute to the two hundred and five who perished at the Beasts of Holm that New Year's night in 1919.
94 years ago today - 09:00
It is just after 9 o'clock, and the sun rises over the mountains of
mainland Scotland. Its light sweeps west, and shows up a ship's mast
protruding from the sea, only a few dozen yards from the shore of Holm
Point. The figure of a man can be made out, as he holds on for dear
life. As he has done for nigh upon seven hours. Others had been with
him, but their strength had given out, and had fallen into the sea
below. The man is saved from his precarious position. He had been one of
about three hundred on board Iolaire who had left Kyle the
evening before, expecting to arrive in Stornoway at 2 am. Instead, two
hundred would never return home, and some sixty would never be
retrieved.
A gruesome sight presented itself on the shores, beaches and rocky outcrops of eastern Lewis, around the bay of Stornoway. East to Knock, north to Sandwick and Stornoway, south to Grimshader. One hundred and forty bobbed on the tide, lost in the Iolaire. Those that could be retrieved were taken to the naval base at the Battery in Stornoway, to be identified and collected by family.
Those who had not yet had news of the tragedy would soon receive it, as elders of the church went round, the bearers of the news of loss. A brother, a father. An uncle, a nephew. A son, a cousin. No village was spared. No family who was not directly or indirectly affected. The stories abound, but are not readily told.
It is 2013, and dawn has broken on a new year. Four years ago, several hundred gathered at the little memorial at Holm Point to remember. It was a beautiful mild winter's day, with not a breath of wind. We looked south, across the Minch, where the jagged humps of the Shiants, the distant lines of Skye, and on a day of exceptional clarity, even the hills behind Kyle can be made out, 75 miles away. In this day and age, a short journey. In 1919, a journey that was never completed by two hundred and five souls.
Rest in peace.
A full listing of names can be found here
A gruesome sight presented itself on the shores, beaches and rocky outcrops of eastern Lewis, around the bay of Stornoway. East to Knock, north to Sandwick and Stornoway, south to Grimshader. One hundred and forty bobbed on the tide, lost in the Iolaire. Those that could be retrieved were taken to the naval base at the Battery in Stornoway, to be identified and collected by family.
Those who had not yet had news of the tragedy would soon receive it, as elders of the church went round, the bearers of the news of loss. A brother, a father. An uncle, a nephew. A son, a cousin. No village was spared. No family who was not directly or indirectly affected. The stories abound, but are not readily told.
It is 2013, and dawn has broken on a new year. Four years ago, several hundred gathered at the little memorial at Holm Point to remember. It was a beautiful mild winter's day, with not a breath of wind. We looked south, across the Minch, where the jagged humps of the Shiants, the distant lines of Skye, and on a day of exceptional clarity, even the hills behind Kyle can be made out, 75 miles away. In this day and age, a short journey. In 1919, a journey that was never completed by two hundred and five souls.
Rest in peace.
A full listing of names can be found here
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