THE EVENING STORY GAELIC MIGHT

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXVIII, Issue 13026, 3 May 1940, Page 3

THE EVENING STORY GAELIC MIGHT

By Martin Rowan

It was o*ne of those winter nights so common on the coast of the County Mayo in Ireland. Rain falling. The wind howling with a mournful blast. Waves dashing against grim stalwart rocks. A night to sit before a great open fire of turf. “Let’s go out to Andy Joe’s, Hughie,” said Tim Carey to myself. “Andy should be in a great humour for a story on a night like this.” We set off for Andy Joe’s. There was never a better storyteller in Ballycloddy than Andy Joe —and didn’t Ballycloddy always top the whole of Ireland in matters of tradition and mythology and the accurate rendering of ancient Gaelic lore?

Andy Joe’s kitchen was crowded with neighbouring boys and girls. When we were seated, Tim Carey, who was by no means bashful, asked Andy Joe to tell us a story. “I won’t tell no story to-night Tim,” said Andy Joe, “because there’s something on me mind tonight. It was a night like this that was nearly the cause of me death 40 years ago.”

“Did you have an accident then, Andy?” inquired Tim Carey. > “Well, I did an’ I didn’t, Tim,” replied Andy Joe. “I went out in

me curragh one evenin’ an’ sailed up Blasksed Bay. The tide was like a

sheet o’ glass. I made up me mind , I’d stay out fishing for mackerel alf night. I took a skillet full o’ coals ; with me that I left in the bottom o’ j the curragb so that I could cook me- ' self some fish whenever I got bun- , gry. j “I had sailed up the Bull’s Mouth the time that night fell, an’ what a grand night it was then wit” the moon shinin' like gold on the bay, • an’ Achill Hill stahdin’ like a great big giant of a soldier close to me. j “Well, I kept on goin’ very slojv , an’ fishin' very aisy for there was peace an’ good will in me mind, an’ when there is peace like that in a man it is no time for him to disturb himself or he in a hurry of any kind. “I must have fallen asleep for when I woke up I "found the cur- t ragh up on an island wit’ the rain fallixi’ on me an’ the wind howlin’ jusht exactly like it is to-night. I wasn’t quite sure where I was, hut I thought it musht be one of the Inniskea Islands I was on. It was no night to start, batherin’ meself wit' questions so I just shtepped out of the curragh, took me skillet in me hand, an’ sat 'down on the island intendin’ to fry meself some mackerel for I had plenty o’ that. “I noticed a big lump, like a great big bunch o’ wild grass growin’ on 1 the island an’ I put me back against it an’ sat down. I took two mackerel an’ washed and cleaned them. I took me coals out of the skillet an’ placed them on the island. I didn’t have the coals on the island any length o’ time when the island commenced to move —an’ when I say move. I mean it. The island ran. First it ran back an’ forth, then it ran up an’ down, an’ at last it made one plunge an’ went right down under the wauther. “When I felt the Island goin’ to dive I caught a grip on the long grass an’ hung on an’ it was a good thing that I did for that was the only thing that saved me for when I came up again me curragh an’ me skillet were gone. “Well, that kept up all night wit’ \ the island racin’ an’ evei’y once in a while takin’ a dive, an’ meself haxxgin’ on to the grass for all I was worth an’ me TffTyin’ to thinko’ me prayers, although I am sorry to say there was a lot of them I had forgottexx. “Well, at lasht one day I saw land —an’ a mighty big land it was. I saw men walkin’ along, the shore. The next thing I knew the island an’ meself had reached the land an’ the

You won’t believe this tale first, but two warships, a Queen & the people of Australia will prove it.

men were crowdin’ around me. They began talkin’ to meself in English an’" I answered them. They were lookin’ very sharp at me wit’ eyes poppin’ out o’ their heads, an’ no wonder, for didn’t they tell me that the island I was on was a whale an’ that we nad landed in Australia?”

“Just a minute Andy,” said Tim Carey. “I thought you said there was grass on the island?” ' “I thought it was grass myself Tim,” said Andy Joe, “but it wasn’t, it was hair —an’ it’s many the time afthepvards I thanked God for growin’ a mane on that whale.

“Well, the people of Australia were all excited an’ they brought the mayor an 'the other big men to see me. Everyone was shakin’ hands wit’ me, an’ such eatin’ an’ drinkin’ I never had in me life before or afther.

“The way they figured it all out was that the whale must be ashleep on top o’ the wauther the night I took the coals out to make a fire a’ when the coals burned him he went on a rampage. They figured it had taken me about fifteen days to get to Australia an’ that was sped especially in the mdays. “Well, the English governmint sent two big warships to take me home. They told the shtory in the

papers an’ called me a ‘loyal British subject./ | “They brought me to London an’ j they had a parade for me an’ I rode !up an’ down the streets. Sittin’ bei side the Queen herself in a big carj riage an’ me waving me hand an’ smilin’, an’ the crowd cheerin’ for me. The Queen got a lot of notoriety out of being seen riding around wit’ ( meself while at the same time I was thanking God that Big Mick O’Donnell was not there to see me, for Big Mick hated the king and queen like the devil hates the holy wauther. [ “But 1 never saw the skillet from that day to this an’ that same was troublin’ me mind an’ that’s the raison that I couldn’t tell ye no shtory to-night—but come around some night when . there’s nothin’ botherin’ me an' I’ll tell ye a shtory then.’’ He knocked the ashes from his pipe and bade them all good-night.