Para Handy Sails Again

Hilda Davis

My husband D and I had been farming for some years on a croft at Glendale on the Isle of Skye. We had D's parents and my mother living with us. They were happy years with the old folk. It was hard but very satisfying. After the loss of the last of the three 'oldies' my husband came to Orkney to find a new farm for us.

By now we had fifty young cattle on the croft and they had to be moved along with the hay, the cattle feed, implements, van, cattle trailer, furniture, household goods, ourselves and the dog Fly. D. phoned for quotations for moving everything by land and ferries but exorbitant prices were asked. Then out of the blue we got a call from an Orkney boat owner who asked a price that was acceptable. A date was fixed and we sorted and packed as much as possible.

Just before we were to move my Canadian cousin phoned to say that he and his partner were in Glendale. When I told them of our plans they decided to travel with us on the boat to Sanday. The boat was to arrive the night before we sailed. It was about midnight and dark when the boat, the eighty-four feet long puffer, the 'Busant', got to Dunvegan. The pier is so small, the Captain and his mate almost grounded on houses near the shore. The postman heard the boat's engines and put all his house lights on and other people were outside their houses flashing torches to alert the Captain to the danger.

We were asleep in Glendale and knew nothing of this drama until the following day. The next morning the Captain went drinking at the home of an old Navy friend. We made countless journeys with the van and trailer from our croft to the boat and the Captain's mate winched everything in and on the boat - cattle in the hold and everything else on deck. This took all day, then the Captain appeared ... and we tried to get him sober for the journey to Sanday.

Meanwhile six fishing boats had returned to Dunvegan pier and tied up to the Busant. We set off complete with these fishing boats and men were jumping from boat to boat to release them.

It was dark again by now and the Captain was so ill that he went to his bunk after instructing D. to steer the boat but to keep to the left of the red lights. Hours later the Captain appeared and took charge of the boat as we rounded Cape Wrath. The weather worsened and the Radio said Force 9 and 10 gales and we all believed it.

D., my cousin and his partner and myself travelled in any space on this basic working boat with no passenger facilities. The cattle and the dog settled well and moved with the boat's movements. It was good to see them so contented.

The sea came swishing on one side of the deck and poured off the other side for hour after hour.

Looking back, I cannot believe how safe I felt throughout that twenty-four hour journey on the 'Busant'.

I will never forget that journey and our arrival at Kettletoft Pier, Sanday. The water was low and there were lots of unknown faces looking down at the four of us, our cattle, the dog Fly and all our worldly goods.