The picture from our collection shows a group of sailors aboard HMS Carmania during the Great War. HMS Carmania was a Cunard liner (built 1905) which was converted into an Armed Merchant Carrier, and later served as a troopship. In the very early stages of the war, on 14 September 1914, she engaged the German Cruiser SMS Cap Trafalgar off the coast of Brazil, sinking the German ship, while taking 79 hits, sustaining considerable damage and losing five of her crew, including one Lewisman, AB Kenneth John Macleod, RNR, from 7 Ranish.

The photo is inscribed “Lewismen on the Carmania” though we don’t have any identifications and don’t know if all of these are indeed Lewismen. Those known to have served on her besides KJ Macleod from Ranish include Allan Macleod, Donald Macleay Sr, Donald Macleay Jr and John Martin, all from Upper Shader, and at least one man from Uig, Donald Macritchie from 7 Aird Uig (Domhnall a’ Geamhraidh, Doy’s father) who, as a Naval Reservist, was present during the engagement with the Cap Trafalgar.

There is an exceptional amount of well-researched information about both ships and the battle at this website -and three-quarters down this page, a smaller group of sailors taken in what seems to be the same position and possibly on the same day. Is our fellow with the large mustache, seated right, the man on the right in this other photo? If the pictures are a pair, they date (according to an identification in the small group) to between 1914 and 1916.

Donald Macdonald, Domhnall a Ghreusaich,  (1881-1940) was the son of Donald (the shoemaker) and Peggy nee Macritchie, 1 and 11 Geshader. In the photo below he is standing far right, with his cousins Malcolm Mackay Valtos and John Macleod Enaclete, and his sisters Cairsitiona and Catriona.

[singlepic id=1268 w=280 float=right]Donald (the son) was in the RNR, ON 4254 SD. He was mentioned in Dispatches in March 1919 and awarded the Distinguished Service Medal as a result of an incident in the Channel. He was a mate aboard a minesweeper trawler engaged in clearing WW1 mines from the Channel when a one exploded. The explosion demolished the wheelhouse windows. The skipper was blinded and injured by the blast and was unable to continue in command. Donald took charge of the vessel and returned it safely to port. See also his certificate.

The DSM was awarded for exemplary bravery and resourcefulness under fire at sea – now obsolete.

Domhnall married Peggy Maciver in 1920 and they moved to 3 Timsgarry in 1937. He died in 1940, and she in 1973.

A Hardship on Interned Men

We have been informed that money sent by Post Office Money Order to prisoners of war in Holland is only worth 15s for every £1 remitted. This seems an exorbitant rate of exchange, and strikes very hard those lads who are unfortunate enough to be interned there. Their friends endeavour to supply them with a little extra cash to enable them to get a change occasionally from the usual routine of menu, but at the present rate of exchange the weekly or fortnightly remittance dwindles into a very insignificant sum by the time they get it. Perhaps some of our readers may know of other means to remitting cash to those prisoners without such a heavy reduction, such as a society interested in the welfare of interned seamen. Any information on this subject will be welcomed by friends concerned.

Last Sunday [2 August 1914] will be a memorable one in Lewis. During the night the Mercantile Marine authorities at Stornoway received instruction to mobilise the Royal Naval Reserve. On Sunday afternoon motor cars were dispatched to all parts of the island with notices summoning the men to report themselves at Stornoway, but earlier in the day the news had become generally known through intimations made from the pulpits of the various churches, all the ministers having been officially wired to, asking them to announce the mobilisation. The proclamation affected not only every hamlet in Lewis but practically every family in the island.

How often have successive Governments been reminded in memorials from the crofters and fishermen of Lewis, as a claim to have their grievances remedied, that the “entire manhood of the island was trained to arms?” in this statement there was no exaggeration, for out of a rural population of 26,000, some 2000 men are connected with the Royal Naval Reserve, while about 1200 are enlisted in the Seaforth, Cameron and Gordon Militias, besides which the island contributes its fair quota to the regular Army and Navy.
The commotion occasioned in the homes of Lewis by this unprecedented breach in the customary Sabbath calm may be imagined. The men themselves made a commendably prompt response, practically every available man having found his way to Stornoway by Monday evening.

“And they left their nets”

On Sunday the Customs officers and police visited the fishing boats lying at Stornoway and instructed all Naval Reservists, no matter where they hailed from, to report themselves at the Mercantile Marine Office, and about fifty men from the boats were thus sent away by the mail steamer that night, en route for Chatham. Many of the fishermen had to go leaving their nets on the fields where they had spread them on Saturday, while a number of the East Coast boats have to lay up here on account of their crews being depleted. As for the local fleet, with the exception of time-expired Reservists, hardly a fisherman is left.

On Monday 430 men were sent on to Chatham where they will meet with hundreds more of Lewismen who were called up at Fraserburgh, Peterhead and other fishing ports, as well as Rosyth, etc.* The men who were conveyed across the Minch by the steamers Claymore and Sheila, had an enthusiastic send-off. The cheers of the large crowds which gathered at the steamers’ quay were joined by the sirens of the steam drifters and other shipping which kept up a deafening din till the steamers had rounded the beacon.

The mobilisation of the Militias and Territorials, after the Naval Reservists, has practically denuded Lewis of its able-bodied male population. It is safe to say that no other district in the British Isles has contributed its manhood in such proportion as Lewis.

* Those working at mainland ports such as Fraserburgh were not allowed to return home first, but were required to report immediately to the depot.

One day last week, Mr Murdo Macleod, Cliff, found on the sands close by, a small tin box which had just been washed ashore. He carried it home and opened it. Inside were four steel tubes. As the damp seemed to have got at them he considered them quite harmless, and he began making a closer examination when one of them exploded, badly damaging his hands and face. The thumb and forefinger of the left hand were practically blown off, and the other fingers badly lacerated. The right hand and arm and the right side of his face were also badly injured. His little boy, who was standing close by, got some of the stuff into his leg. Fortunately, the nurse was immediately in attendance and dressed their wounds. That same night, the father was removed to Stornoway Hospital where, we are glad to hear, he is progressing favourably. The boy is also doing well. It is hoped that any person finding anything of an uncertain character will exercise every precaution in dealing with it.

19 March 1920

His many friends are glad to see Mr Murdo Macleod, cliff, back again to his home, and looking so well after his treatment in hospital in the south. It will be remembered that mention was made in these columns of a serious accident he had in November last, when he narrowly escaped death from the explosion of a fuse found on the shore. His hands (particularly the left one) and face were badly damaged, and he was removed to Stornoway hospital that same night. After a fortnight’s stay there he had to come home with his hands still unhealed.

The district nurse – Miss Jeannie Maclean – began to attend him. Great credit is due to her for the manner in which she discovered and extracted, under many disadvantages, two pieces of brass tubing which had lodged and had been left in his hand. His eye, however, needed attention, and he was sent for treatment to an infirmary in Glasgow. There it was found that the sight had been damaged, the eyeball being penetrated in different places. That necessitated the immediate excision of the eye. A decaying bone was also taken out of his thumb; and now, so successful has the operation been, his eyes look quite normal.

As a boy in Enaclete I heard many stories about the war, including the Onslow action, being discussed by Calum Iain Smith and the worthies who used to congregate at night for a ceilidh at Norman Macdonald’s (Puff’s) house, Post Office, Enaclete, and also at the Coisich’s house after the family had moved from Ungeshader.

Calum Iain’s father, Donald, was one of six men from Uig who had served in WW1 on the auxiliary cruiser HMS Orama at the Battle of the Falklands.  He was a very quiet man but on Hogmanay he sometimes sang a song about the Orama and the Falklands, but I have never heard anyone else singing it. I wonder if anyone has the words of this song?

Puff’s house was one of two houses in our village with a radio and most nights there were people from Enaclete, Ungeshader, Geshader and sometimes further afield who would visit the house for a ceilidh, listen to the BBC 9 o’clock news and wait the arrival of the Uig bus. Uig had three buses then, MacRitchie’s, Buchanan’s and MacAulay’s, all of which on their journeys to and from Stornoway would stop at the Macdonalds’ house.

The ferry sailings from Kyle to Stornoway were at that time staggered to prevent U-boats shadowing and sinking the Lochness and consequently nobody knew when the boat, and therefore the bus meeting it, would arrive. People often waited into the wee small hours and when the bus eventually arrived there was great hilarity and a hearty welcome for the servicemen coming home on leave. Today this house lies empty and my thoughts often return to the days of laughter, jokes, stories, leg-pulling and bonhomie. Next to the Post Office was a shop and a paraffin storage tank and it was very busy place with cars, buses, lorries and people on cycles and on foot coming and going all day long; indeed the area could be described as the Piccadilly of Uig.

Norman’s son John was a Quartermaster in the Merchant Navy and when he returned from the sea he used to bring me comics from New York. These American comics were full of dragons and monsters and sometimes they scared the living daylights out of me when I read them by the fire with the light from a peat.

©DJ Macleod

Translated from an interview with An Geal, John Maclennan, born 1896 at 15 Kneep and married at 4 Aird, Uig. The Admiralty ship the Iolaire taking servicemen home to Lewis grounded on the Beasts of Holm outside Stornoway, on the 1st of January 1919. More than two hundred men perished. Translated by Maggie Smith.

At the end of December 1918, on leave and travelling back to Lewis with other servicemen from Uig, we planned to arrive home on New Year’s day and surprise the families. Approaching Stornoway Harbour on the Iolaire the mistake was made when we changed course. All it required was less than half a point, it just needed to be slightly to the West. The lighthouse was visible, but the man at the wheel didn’t alter the course when he should have.

We never suspected a thing until she hit, it was so quiet and everything was so normal… Only two people escaped from that part of the ship I was in. One brave man swam ashore with a rope and secured it. When the ship grounded she swung round broadside. I remember moving the rope from the stern to the side, but today I don’t quite know how I managed it. A lot of those around me had lost their mind, particularly the younger men. There were no orders from the officers maybe if… If only the ship had grounded closer to the shore, most of those aboard would have been saved. But the rocks we hit were the furthest point from the shore. Although there had been a strong wind it was behind us. I was able to crawl to safety across that rope. The ship sunk eventually and one man was left clinging to the mast until he was rescued. Only seventy five people made it to the shore.

When I got ashore I was shoeless as I had been resting and had taken them off. A lot of the men had taken their shoes off and were lying down, wherever they could get space to rest their head. Reaching the shore I fell into a bog and lost my socks, then I headed for the nearest house, where a huddle of injured people had gathered. I was injured with cuts on my chest, but I never let on to anyone. It was a frosty night and I walked from Holm to Stornoway.

Seeing a sign for the Post Office I headed in that direction. I heard a woman crying. It was Maga (nighean Seonaid Chalum Tharmoid). Maga had met two Uig men who had been on the boat, Uilleam Dubh (William Maclennan 36 Cliff) and (Tuireag) Malcolm Macritchie 7 Aird. They had mentioned I was on the ship, and as they hadn’t seen me since coming ashore, they had come to the conclusion that I too, had been lost.

I got some ‘civvies’; they were clothes belonging to Peter, a brother of Maga. Then went down to the Admiralty building, where a row of us were sitting outside on the wall. Admiral Boyle came and asked me who I was, he didn’t know me in the ‘civvies’. Then he clapped me on the shoulder and said “Thank God you’re safe”. He said “come back here in quarter of an hour and I’ll have the car ready for you”.

I made it home on New Years Day. The car took Tuireag and me to Callanish and Duncan Macrae’s motor launch took us to Traigh Sheanais in Reef. Tuireag and I walked back to the Kneep and we met my sister Hannah at the top of the hill, she was so happy to see me. I never said anything.

I went into the house, my mother was in bed and I went to her bedside.

She said “Iain, what happened”.

“Nothing happened” I said.

“Something happened, I’ve known for a long time ago that something dreadful was going to happen”.

The telegram with the news of the loss of the Iolaire was not put up in the Post Office in Uig until the following day. Somehow word must have got back to Uig because Càdham and An Gobha came to the house and as I had not seen either of their sons since coming ashore, I feared the worst.

I went to hide at the other end of the house and wished I hadn’t come home so soon. Going to face those men knowing their sons were drowned, but I couldn’t tell them that.

I couldn’t leave till the island until my leave ended. I couldn’t attend the court of inquiry because of the injury to my legs and chest.

Some of the bodies of those lost on the Iolaire had not been recovered. Càdham had a premonition or a dream, because six weeks after the tragedy of that New Year’s morning, he set off for Stornoway telling the family he was going to collect his son’s body. On approaching the Admiralty Base he demanded a boat and they decided to humour a grieving father and take him to Glumaig Bay as he wished. In the bay there they found the body of his son Angus Matheson from Uigen, in the location where his father had seen his body in the dream or premonition.

I served as a seaman on the original Iolaire, the Naval flagship which had been based in Stornoway during the First World War. That original vessel was three times the size of the ship of the same name, which was lost on the Beasts of Holm.

When the larger ship left to go to Dundee, the replacement in the Minch adopted the Iolaire name. This was the boat which sailed out of Stornoway Harbour for three months, before the fateful night she was lost and almost two hundred men drowned

My shipmate from Shadar was also on the Iolaire that fated night. He was probably the best swimmer that was ever born on the Island of Lewis. Three times he tried to get to the shore and had to return each time, before eventually crossing on the rope to safety. When we met to travel to join the ship the Iolaire in Bowling, Glasgow we turned the ribbons on our caps so they just showed HMS on them. But people still knew who we were, even when we got to the headquarters in Glasgow.

The ship’s crew had to go to Portsmouth to be demobbed. One of the officers told me to stay behind until he travelled to Portsmouth with me. I spent a fortnight in Glasgow where he put a car driven by a W.R.E.N. at my disposal. When I got to Portsmouth I got my demob papers after only 4 days and the rest of the crew were still there waiting for theirs.

Uig Seamen Lost on the Iolaire:

Murdo Mackinnnon 18 Brenish (Murchadh Chaidhean)
George Morrison 20 Brenish (Seòras a Chèisean)
Murdo Nicolson (jnr)1 Crowlista (Murchadh Beag)
Angus Macdonald 6 Crowlista (Aonghas an Duibh)
Ewen Macdonald 13 Crowlista (Eoghainn)
Malcolm Mackay 14 b Crowlista (Calum Dhòmhnaill Nèill
John Macdonald 16 Crowlista (Iain Aonghais Mhoir)
Peter Buchanan 23 Crowlista (Padraig Dhòmhnaill Chaoil)
John Macleod 16 Uigen (Sheocan a Ghobha)
Angus Matheson 18 Uigen (Aonghas Chàdham)

Readers in Lewis and Harris, please remember tonight is the night for your 2011 Census rehearsal form to be filled in, online or on paper, in English or Gaelic. In all the Comainn Eachdraidh we rely on the census records in our research, and whatever the state of genealogy in a hundred years time, our followers will appreciate a full and accurate record.  A wide participation in this (voluntary) rehearsal will help to ensure the success of the 2011 record.

William Matheson (Uilleam Dearg) was born to 2 Geshader in 1877, the youngest son of William Ruadh.  As a young man he went off, presumably to join the Seaforths, though his family heard nothing of him until he turned up in a picture of a company in Egypt or the Sudan, about 1898. He served in the Boer War then settled in South Africa, worked as a prospector, joined up again in 1914 (despite severe bouts of malaria) and in 1940, at the age of 63, served finally in the South Africa First Reserve Brigade.

[singlepic=596,200,right] William never returned to Lewis but his daughter Annie, now living in Australia, has visited (her nearest relations being the Mackays at Reef) and the Comann Eachdraidh is delighted to have received recently her father’s medals, which will be on display in the museum.   In a Great War chocolate tin (above right) are the 1914-15 Star, the British War Medal, the Victory Medal and the British Empire Service League badge (South African Legion of Military Veterans); and in a WW2 chocolate tin, the War Medal (1939-45), the African Service Medal, his bar of ribbons and two cap badges from the SA First Reserve Brigade.  Many thanks to Annie and her daughter Felicity for their generous donation. We’re looking forward to gathering more detail about William’s adventurous life – and to identifying his two missing medals, which from the ribbons on the left end of the bar seem to be the Queen’s South Africa Medal (Boer War, 1899-1902) and the King’s South Africa Medal (for troops completing at least 18 months service, 1902.)

On 5 August 1914 the postman delivered buff-coloured envelopes to all the reservists. War had been declared. There was no reluctance to answer the mobilisation call, and those on the Island made their way immediately to Stornoway, thence to Kyle of Lochalsh, and eventually to one of the Channel ports.  The most pressing military need at the time was for infantrymen, not for ships’ crews, so the Naval Reservists found themselves issued with a rifle and ten rounds of ammunition. Their training had been as crew for warships, and the handling of big naval guns, not as infantrymen! But on 5 October they were transported to Antwerp in Belgium, via Dunkirk, to attempt to defend the strategic port from the advance of the Kaiser’s Army. The defences were built in the nineteenth century and were no match for the heavy artillery or the devastating fire from the ‘Big Bertha’ mortars. The ill-equipped and inadequately trained Naval Brigades had no chance and held out for less than three days.

They were facing overwhelming odds, and despite orders that they were to defend this strategic deepwater port at all costs, it was obvious that a retreat was necessary. There were also specific orders that on no account should the Naval Division be caught in Antwerp. Eventually the orders came to fall back, and two of the Brigades did so, but for some hours the third remained ignorant of the withdrawal. 3,500 men reached the Burght, crossed the River Scheldt by pontoon bridge and marched to St Niklaas, where they boarded trains and escaped. The other 1,500 men of the First Brigade, consisting of Hawke, Benbow and Collingwood Battalions, finally got their evacuation orders but when they arrived at the river the bridge was no longer in place. Fortunately there were some small boats available for ferrying them across, but valuable time had been lost. They arrived exhausted at St Niklass early on the morning of 9 October.

All the transport had departed and they were forced to continue on foot to St Gillis-Waas. There they discovered that the railway had been blown up, and they were almost completely surrounded by enemy troops. In fact some of the Naval Brigade had already been captured, including John Maclean Ungeshader (Shonnie Gorabhaig), John Buchanan Brenish, John and Angus Maciver Crowlista, and Donald Mackay Valtos. Only three of the Uigeachs who were sent to Antwerp managed to escape that day: they were Kenneth Maciver Geshader, Donald Macritchie Aird and Angus Mackay Valtos. The rest were now facing capture, being wounded or even being killed by the fierce bombardment they were suffering. Commodore Henderson was in charge and the lives of his men depended on him making the right decision. Reluctantly he chose the safest option: rather than become prisoners of war, they would cross the border. Once they were on Dutch soil, and had surrendered their weapons to the Dutch Army, they became internees in the neutral country of Holland.

The Uig contingent were: Malcolm and Murdo Buchanan (cousins) Brenish; Angus Morrison Islivig; Angus Macdonald Geshader; Donald Morrison, John William Macleod, Angus Macaulay, and James Morrison Valtos; Donald Maclennan Cliff; Kenneth Nicolson Crowlista and Norman Macritchie Aird. Out of the twenty Uigeachs who were sent to Antwerp only Kenneth Maciver Geshader, Donald Macritchie Aird, and Angus Mackay Valtos avoided capture or internment.

The forlorn remnant of “Winston’s Little Army” spent their first night in Holland sleeping by the roadside, without any food. They were starving, and some resorted to stripping meal from dead cows that they found in the fields, and eating it raw. The next day they were taken under armed guard to Groningen, forty miles to the west. At first the security was very tight. A rule of neutrality was that ‘prisoners’ who had sought refuge as a way of avoiding capture by the enemy should not be permitted to escape or return to active duty. In order to protect its neutral status and avoid occupation itself, the Dutch Government was determined to give no favours to the refugees, so the treatment was generally harsh at first.

To begin with, they were housed in the Rabenhaupt Barracks in Groningen, which were temporarily vacant. After three months, the men were moved into huts especially erected for them next to the State Prison. This new accommodation was soon to become known by the inmates as “HMS Timbertown”. The nickname was derived from the wooden huts, and the fact that they housed sailors, not “infantrymen”. Each hut was fairly large and had a number of stoves, but internees complained that in the winter, especially at night, they got very cold. In the summer the ventilation was not adequate and the huts became hot and stuffy. The new camp was on the old parade ground with the barracks perimeter fence on one side, and the Sterrobos woods on the other. The Rev Lamont, writing in The Stornoway Gazette of 25th January 1918, observed “imprisonment behind barbed wire, in the flat and featureless countryside must have been very hard for Lewismen so used to the hills and the sea”.

The food was meagre but just about adequate. Some of the men complained that the only meat they got was horsemeat. It had very little fat on it but most of the inmates eventually grew accustomed to it. Others complained that the meals provided were too fatty! Each man received half a loaf of bread a day. It tasted as though it was made from potato peelings and grain husks! Later oatmeal appeared, and porridge was taken daily. Eventually it was agreed with the authorities that the internees could do their own catering, as long as they stayed within the permitted budget. Tea was a rare treat, and letters home begged for supplies. However things were tight in Uig too, and tea was just as scarce here – so unfortunately for the internees there was none to spare.

As time went on, negotiations between the Dutch and British Governments led to a slackening of the strict security, and somewhat better conditions. Inmates were allowed ‘shore leave’ for a few hours, which meant that they could go into the town of Groningen. Some of the men had already struck up friendships with local girls through the fence, so now they could go on dates to the local cinema with them.

On Sunday afternoons, the “Englische Kamp” had become a sightseeing attraction, and townsfolk came to gawp through the fence at the sailors. The inmates were a novelty, and at first many of them felt like monkeys in a zoo. The camp itself was soon to open for two hours on Sunday afternoons, so that townspeople could visit. They came to watch football matches, to attend concerts, and to provide entertainment themselves. Local musicians, choirs and opera groups performed in the camp. The internees also gave concerts in the town for local people to enjoy.

Astonishingly, by 1916 home leave was being permitted. Ostensibly this was only granted on compassionate or medical grounds. A letter from home to the effect that a brother had been killed, and the family needed help on the croft, was considered enough. The family doctor generally wrote the letters. One request was granted because it was harvest time and the interned sailor’s mother was a widow. Angus Macdonald had at least two periods of leave during the four years, each of one-month duration. He dutifully returned each time, so that others could have the same privilege in their turn. The rule was that if anyone failed to return from leave, then the privilege would be withdrawn from everyone. Needless to say the feeling of companionship and trust among the men meant that no one broke the rule. It is thought that Malcolm Buchanan of No 11 Brenish also came home on leave.

Everyone predicted that the war would be over by Christmas 1914, but in fact it dragged on another four years. For the First Naval Brigade, now interned in Holland for the duration, the greatest difficulty was coping with the long hours of inactivity. This was a problem for both the British and the Dutch and there were guards appointed by both sides to prevent any trouble occurring. The Dutch authorities were unable to understand why the men could not be sent home, but the rules of war stated that the internees should not be permitted to take any further part in hostilities.

Activities were therefore organised to reduce the boredom. Books and materials were sent out from Britain. Study courses were arranged for the sailors. Angus Macdonald attended first aid and navigation classes, and he recorded what he learnt in a small notebook. Some of the men studied for exams and were able to sit them in the camp. At least one sailor studied for the ministry and many earned merchant seamen certificates. A number of groups and societies started up including drama, music and crafts. There was soon a thriving cabaret company who put on regular concerts.

The men were permitted to take on work outside the camp. Some worked in coalmines, some in shipyards and others on farms. There was a knitting club, and the sailors produced jumpers and socks, both for themselves and to sell. Others who had the skills already made trinket boxes and other wooden items also for sale. Some of these items were shipped back to Britain and sold at Selfridges in London. The money earned could be used to purchase extra food and essentials and for other activities such as trips to town to the cinema or bars.

As the war dragged on food became scarce in Holland, and in camp its quality and quantity deteriorated seriously until even rats were caught and eaten. Donald Maclennan was so desperately hungry that on one occasion when they were working on a farm he and his companions caught and killed a sheep. They decided they would have to eat it raw so as not to draw attention to themselves by lighting a fire.

The confined nature of the camp meant that the only exercise possible consisted of groups of men walking around in circles. Later compulsory route marches under armed guard were organised, along the banks of the “stinking” canals. As time went on the men were able to enjoy sporting activities such as athletics, cricket and their favourite, football. There were numerous teams in the camp who played against each other, and later there were matches against local Dutch teams.

Uigeachs who went to fight for King and Country. They had returned fairly unscathed or damaged by their experiences. Despite being jokingly accused of “sleeping in Holland for four years”, they were not cowards. They may have had doubts themselves about whether they had “done their bit” for their country. Possibly they felt that surrendering to a neutral country would not be seen as a very brave thing to do. When I spoke to people who had known these men, they could give me very little information. This was due to the reticence of the internees, over the years, to talk about their experiences. Some wondered whether the reluctance to talk was due to embarrassment about the whole thing.

See also a wee note about remittances from home.

Thanks to Guido Blokland and Menno Weilinga, lain Macdonald Islivig, Calum Buchanan Brenish, Murdina Maclennan Cliff, lain Buchanan Islivig, Finlay Maciver Carishader and Seonag Maclean Timsgarry.  © Dave Roberts