The Storyteller.

Welcome to my blog page.  My name is Tony Locke and I am The Storyteller.  So why not pull up a chair and sit awhile.

The Storyteller.

There’s turf on the fire

There’s tea in the pot

Sunday’s here again

It’s been a good week

And now is the time

To hear the tale’s again

So pull up a chair and sit awhile

The clock is striking three

Tune in to WRFM

And join the Séanachai.

 

 

 

Join me on Sunday by tuning in to WRFM 98-2 from 3-00 till 4-00. You can listen live on www.wrfm.ie. You know you're never too old for a story.

If you have any comments or request’s you can send them into wrfm.ie or post them on my facebook page.

 

 

Music Playlist for the 13th October 2013.

 

Music Playlist 13^th October 2013.

Mr Sandman by The Chordettes.

Lonely Ghosts.

Matchstalk Cats and Dogs by Brian and Michael.

Superstitions by Stevie Wonder.

The Parting Glass.

The Mythology of The Dark Man.

The Mythology of The Dark Man.

 

Last week I mentioned some of various figures known in folklore as The Dark Men. There are a number of different myths that are associated with these dark figures and this week I thought I would follow up with a closer look at some of them.

The Grey Man is a figure from Scotland’s folklore. Sightings have been made over hundreds of years by walkers who have seen a spectre like figure.  He is said to haunt the second highest peak in Scotland, Ben Mac dhui, in the Cairngorms.  The Grey Man has been described by those who have seen it as a huge ape like figure.  He has been seen by such eminent mountaineers as Professor Norman Collie in 1891, although he was well known to be a practical joker so this could have been a publicity stunt.  Henry Kellas was reported as spotting The Grey Man at the turn of the twentieth century but this was never verified.  Peter Densham heard his footsteps following him on the Cairngorms in 1945.  Alexander Tewnion another mountaineer and naturalist reported that in 1943 he was attacked on the mountain by a strange shape, he fired his revolver at it three times but it had no effect. Tewnion turned and fled.

A similar entity has been reported around Lough Dhu in Antrim. An account in the Ulster Journal of Archaeology in 1858 tells of two men who saw him standing on a pillar in the middle of the Bush River.  Although they tried to talk to him they were ignored and eventually overcome with a deep sense of fear they ran home.

 

The Fear Dubh.

This is a rare legend from Scotland concerning an entity that is said to haunt the dark footpaths and forests at night.  Was it created to scare children in order to stop them roaming at night and getting lost? If so then it certainly works.

The Faceless One.

Now this one dates to the 18^th century in Wales.  It was created by ‘caring’ parents in order to stop them from being naughty, and to keep them away from the forests.  It was said that children often disappeared at night and were found the following days mutilated almost beyond recognition.  The parents even had a rhyme to go with it.

Hush, my child, do not stray from the path,

Or The Faceless One shall steal you away to Fairieland.

He preys on sinful and defiant souls,

And lurks within the woods.

He has hands of ebony branches,

And a touch as soft as silk.

Fear The Faceless One my child,

For he shall take you to a dark place.

And then what shall become of you?

No one knows, so be good, my little one-

Oh No! He is here to take you away!'

Now isn’t that a lovely little bedtime lullaby. No wonder children suffered from the night terrors.

 

The Nucklavee.

This is a creature that is feared in the folklore of Orkney.  The word means Devil of the Sea and he was a creature of pure evil whose sole purpose was to plague the islanders.  Although its home was the sea the Nucklavee had no problem roaming dry land but it had a terror of fresh water, particularly rainwater.  It was while he was on land that he was seen riding a horse as monstrous as himself.

Over time Storytellers have merged the two monsters together so that the horse and rider have become one and this is now the Nucklavee true shape.  He is said to have a head shaped like that of a man but “Ten times bigger”, a wide mouth and a pig’s snout, he also has only one eye that burns with a red flame.  His body is not only hairless but also skinless, its body a mass of raw flesh, you can see its thick black blood coursing through his veins. Again his arms are long and ape-like.

The Fetch.

Also known as: doppelganger
According to Irish folklore, a fetch is a supernatural double of a living person. They are generally regarded as a very bad omen: anybody who sees a fetch that has taken on their appearance is doomed to die, and soon. However, some folklorists claim that if a fetch first appears in the morning rather than the afternoon or evening, it’s actually a sign that whoever the fetch has imitated has a long life ahead of them.

The Sack Man.

Also known as: the Bag Man; the Bugbear
In Latin and Eastern European folklore, the Sack Man is a skinny, foul-tempered and unspeakably ugly old man who scoops up children from off the street, bundles them into his sack, then takes them back to his filthy hovel and devours them.

The Fír Gorta.

In Ireland the Fír Gorta or Man of Hunger.  He was a tall thin man dressed in black raggedy clothes. He travelled from place to place, village to village, town to town during times of famine.  It was said that when he knocked on your door you would welcomed him as you would a stranger and offer him a little food and drink even though food was extremely hard to come by during the famine.  For this reason many would hide behind closed doors, some would deny him any food or drink, some would even chase him from the door.

It was said that for these people there would be no hope and that they had sealed their fate, death by starvation.  For those who spared a small piece of potato or a drop of milk, even if that was all the family had, or those who genuinely had nothing except the offer of a welcome hand, the Fír Gorta would thank them for their generosity, politely refuse their offers and take his leave of them.  However, before he left he would say “Because of your generosity and your honest welcome today you will be truly blessed.  Neither you nor your family will ever die of the hunger, tell no others of what has passed here but from this day forth your pot will never be empty, your jug will never run dry.

It was said that in the morning the mother of the house went to the pot and found within it a great big potato, more than enough to feed the whole family and a jug that was brimming over with fresh creamy milk.  It would be the same each morning and they survived the famine.

Last but certainly not least is the old favourite that gave birth to many a nightmare.

 

The Bogeyman.

 

Many years ago parents would sometimes threaten their children with the words “if you don’t behave, the bogeyman will get you”. However, who or what was the bogeyman?

 

A bogeyman might live under the bed, in a wardrobe/closet, in a dark cupboard under the stairs or anywhere that might be dark or spooky. If you looked through the keyhole you may see an eye looking back at you...that may be the bogeyman looking back at you.

 

Bogeymen can appear as shadowy figures you see out of the corner of your eye but when you look there is nothing there.  They can change shape to look like black dogs, weirdly shaped trees with branches shaped like claws or glowing eyes that appear in the dark of night.  They may even stand behind you, causing you to feel uneasy sending a shiver up your back.

 

The bogeyman is a general term for a frightening figure that was used to frighten the vulnerable and the word itself may derive from the old Anglo-Saxon word Boh, meaning demon. This may also have given rise to the custom of creeping up behind someone and shouting “Boh” or “Boo” meaning “The devil is behind you”.

 

Here in Ireland our bogeyman was also known as Bloody Bones or Rawhead and his legend spread throughout the U.K. and North America presumably through Irish emigration.

 

Bloody bones was believed to live in places near water and this may be why he may be found under the sink hiding in the cupboard near the water pipes.  It was said that Bloody Bones would reward good children but naughty children would be taken down through the sink hole or drainpipes into the drains or sewers and there they would be drowned.

 

This Samhain/ Halloween be careful, if you see a rock that looks as if it has hair on it then it may just be a bogeyman. You may see a black dog covered in scabs or scars, is it really a dog? When you are out for a walk in the woods and you hear a noise or you are standing by a lake and you suddenly feel uneasy, who knows what may be lurking in the undergrowth or beneath the dark waters.  The bogeyman can take many shapes so don’t look over your shoulder.

 

Why some parents persist in telling their children these types of stories and fairytales before they go to bed is beyond me. However, it seems to be something that is a common theme right across the folklore of many different cultures. As you go to bed tonight don’t forget to check under the bed. Sweet dreams.

If like me you are interested in folklore you will find a whole host of dark slender men who wander the night looking for lost souls, children, and victims. From the Sandman to the Candy man, the Scare Crow to the Sack Man. You will find similar spectral beings recorded in the folklore of all societies.  Old stories told by the ancients around camp fires right up to the present day. There’s nothing better on these cold dark evenings than pulling up a chair in front of a roaring fire, pour a nice cup of tea or maybe something a little bit stronger, turn the lights down low, turn of the radio and listen to The Storyteller on WRFM.98-2fm. You know you’re never too old for a story.

A Cold Night in October.

And now for the silly story of the week.

A cold night in October.

It was late at night on an autumn evening when Séan was driving down the West Road. He had left Westport and was on his way home to Louisburgh when he was surprised to see a young girl thumbing a lift; She stood outside the walls of Aughavale cemetery, normally Séan wouldn’t stop for anyone this late at night but as there was no one else on the road and it was a particularly cold night he took pity on her. He stopped his car and asked her where she was going,

“Louisburgh” she said.

“No problem, jump in”.  After driving for a couple of minutes Séan said “You must be freezing, how long were you waiting for a lift”

“I’ve no idea” she replied.

As they approached Louisburgh the girl told Séan that her father didn’t like her taking a lift from strangers so could he drop her off at the bridge just outside town.

“Fair enough but let me give you my jacket to wear or you’ll catch your death”

“If you wish” she said, and for some reason she gave a little smile.

“If you give me your mobile number I’ll arrange to collect my jacket over the next day or two” said Séan.

She told him that she did not have a mobile but she told him the number of her parent’s house and he would find all he needed to know there. Séan thought it very unusual that a young girl wouldn’t have a mobile but may be her father was very strict and so he left it at that.

Three days later Séan had finished work early and so he decided to call for his jacket.  It took him a while to locate the house as it was down one of the many side roads around Louisburg.  He knocked at the door and it was answered by an oldish man.

Séan introduced himself and asked if he could see the young girl.

The man told Séan she was his daughter and asked if he had been a friend of hers.

“Not really, it’s just that I gave her a lift the other night and I lent her my jacket” replied Séan.

“I think there is some mistake” said the father, “Our daughter died two years ago”

Séan was confused, “How can she be dead, didn’t I give her a lift and she told me that she lived here”

“There must be some mistake” said the father, “My daughter is buried in Aughavale cemetery”

Séan apologised and agreed that there must have been a mistake

“I must have written down the wrong road, I’m so sorry for your loss. Tell me what was her name?”

Séan got back into his car and drove away. However, he felt he needed to know the truth; he needed to check the graveyard.

He searched among the tombstones eventually finding the grave with her name on it but the most shocking thing for Séan to discover was that the jacket he had lent to the girl was folded neatly and lay on top of the grave.

From that day onward Séan was never the same again, he was to suffer from bad dreams and his mental health deteriorated.  He was admitted to a psychiatric hospital and may still be there for all I know.

So this Halloween be careful who or what you offer a lift to, and keep hold of your jacket.

Tadgh Dall O'Huiginn. The Matchstalk Man of Straide.

 

And now for a little folklore and a story with a local connection. Many of you listening would have visited the Michael Davitt museum at Straide and if you haven’t then I would recommend you do so for it’s an extremely interesting place that outlines Michael Davitt’s life and his fight for justice and the formation of the Land League. The museum is attached to the old Friary and it is the graveyard of the Friary that I am going to talk of today.  Within the graveyard you will find the final resting places of various historical people.

 

Tadgh Dall O’Huigínn.  The Matchstalk Man of Straide.

c1550-c1591.

 

Tadgh Dall O’Huigínn was a bardic poet and scholar that came from a long line of distinguished Irish poets.  He received his training within his family and may also have received training in the bardic school in Ceall Cluaine (in County Galway) where a number of his family had been trained.  The attachment of ‘Dall’ to his name suggests that he had a visual impairment and he may have been blind in one or both eyes although it has been suggested that he may not have been completely blind.

Tadgh was a wealthy man by today’s standards and he owned land and property throughout Sligo and Mayo that amounted to hundreds of acres and he enjoyed a very comfortable lifestyle.  As a poet of note he was welcomed in all the great houses of Ireland where he spent many weeks being wined and dined by his hosts.  It was the custom in ancient Ireland for the poets to compose poems that spoke of the hospitality and generosity of the nobility, these poems could make or break the reputation of the ruling chieftains so poets were treated extremely well.  The treatment of the bard would then be reflected in what he wrote and the reputation of the chieftain would be enhanced in the eyes of all through the public reading of the poetry or verse.  This made Tadgh an extremely powerful man in the Ireland of his day in much the same way as a highly influential journalist would be considered in the Ireland of today.

However, Tadgh was also said to have a sharp tongue and the gift of satire and it was this that cost him his life. Tadgh was murdered in Banada at Corpus Christi Friary on a Sunday afternoon in 1591.  Tadgh visited Cormac O’Hara of the O’Hara Bui (yellow); he received such a welcome and was treated so well that he wrote a poem that praised the O’Hara Bui to the highest.  The poem became the talk of Connacht and made the O’Hara Bui famous for their prowess in battle, their lineage and genealogy and their magnificent hospitality.

In Connacht there was another branch of the O’Hara.  They were known as O’Hara Rua (Red) and when they heard of this they were extremely displeased.  They were already in contention with O’Huigínn regarding the title to some land and this insult to their line just heightened their intense dislike of him and they decided to seek retribution. 

One night, when Tadgh was away on his travels the O’Hara Rua decided to pay a visit to his house.  Six of the O’Hara Rua broke in and stole food and drink before leaving. Tadgh was to return and found his house in a mess that he had to clean up.  This led to great animosity between the O’Hara Rua and the O’Huigínn and the greatest fear the O’Hara Rua had was that O’Huigínn would write a poem ridiculing them for the actions of the six.  In a time when there were no televisions or newspapers the poetry of the bard’s was eagerly awaited by the people and a few well written lines could make you either a hero or a laughing stock and the O’Hara Rua knew that their reputation could be ruined by O’Huigínn. 

This is exactly what happened, a poem was written about the six that made them the laughing stock of the countryside, no matter where they went people pointed and sniggered.  At last they could take no more and they decided to kill Tadgh O’Huigínn.  They hatched a plan, they set an ambush and lay in wait for him one Sunday as he was returning home, he managed to escape and fled on horseback to the nearby Friary of Corpus Christi and here he claimed sanctuary believing that this would give him the protection of god’s house. 

Unfortunately for Tadgh, the Prior of the Friary was an O’Hara that was related to the O’Hara Rua and he just turned his back on O’Huigínn and refused to help him.  Tadgh was pulled from the Friary and died a horrifying death.  The O’Hara Rua cut out his tongue then slit his throat; they also gave orders that his wife and child were to be murdered at the same time.  The O’Hara Rua responsible for these horrendous acts were eventually captured and taken to Sligo were they were tried for the murders in 1593 but due to the apparent lack of witnesses and evidence they were released.  Tradition suggests that Tadgh Dall O’Huigínn was buried in the grounds of Straide Friary in County Mayo and it is his grave that is marked by the grave marker that shows a carving of a Matchstalk man.

 

The source used for some of this information was,    As the Waters Flow - Banada through the Ages by Séan Owens.

Superstitions surrounding babies or infants

Superstitions surrounding Babies or Infants.

As I’ve said previously within Irish folklore there is a great deal written about superstition. It begins at or even before birth and carries on through all aspects of this life and beyond. From the cradle to the grave so to speak. This week I thought I would tell you of a few of the superstitions that surround a baby or young child and some of these are still with us today in one form or another.

A son born after his father’s death is said to have the power to cure fever.

It was believed that the clippings of the hair and nails of a child, tied up in linen and placed under the bed will cure convulsions. I hope you realise it’s the hair and nail clippings you tie up and put under the bed and not the child.

Although it has to be said that under no circumstances could a baby’s nails be cut until after the first birthday since if the nails were cut the child would grow up to be a thief.  Instead the nails were bitten off by the parent and placed in the bottom of the cradle.

As said previously babies born with a Caul were blessed with a great talent or gift. The Caul was valued by seafarers above all other things as they believed it had the power to prevent death by drowning.

Stories surrounding the new born frequently concerned faeries or the evil eye. A piece of silver was placed in the cradle to preserve the baby from the evil eye and salt was rubbed on its forehead. Neighbours and friends on first seeing the baby would place a silver coin in its hand or shawl (still common practice today).

There were precautions taken even before birth to preserve the mother and baby and keep them free from harm and safe from the evil eye. Should the unfortunate woman meet a hare then her baby would surely be born with a hare lip, of course this could be prevented simply by turning up her skirt and putting a tear in her petticoat. Men who hunted the hare always cut the tale immediately after killing it for fear of the damage it could do if they met an expectant mother whilst they were carrying it home.

When a woman first takes ill in her confinement, unlock instantly every press and drawer in the house, once the child is born lock them all up again at once.  It was believed that if care wasn’t taken then the faeries would get in and hide in the drawers and presses, to be ready to steal away the new baby when they got the opportunity and place some ugly wizened changeling in its place. Every key should be turned, every lock made fast, and if the faeries are hidden inside then let them stay there until all danger is over for the baby by all the proper precautions being taken. You should place a red coal under the cradle and a branch of mountain ash tied over it or a branch of alder depending on the sex of the baby. It was believed that the first man was created from an alder tree and the first woman from the mountain ash.

Unbaptised children are readily seized by the fairies. Ways to prevent this include, a cloth exposed on the eve of St Brigid’s feast day was lucky and used on the mother and child.  Oatmeal was given to the mother and baby when the baby had been born. A piece of iron or a cinder concealed in the baby’s dress. A set of Iron tongs placed across the cradle. The best preventative was believed to be a little salt tied up in the child’s dress when it is laid to sleep in the cradle.

The fairies, however, are sometimes successful in carrying off the baby and the mother finds in the morning a poor weakly little thing in the cradle in place of her own beautiful child. However, if the baby the faeries have stolen grows up to be an ugly child then they will send it back to you.  Bit unfair really.

If a child seems to be pining away it was thought that they had been fairy struck and the juice of twelve leaves of Foxglove may be given, this was said to also aid in the relief of a fever but I wouldn’t try this at home folks.

When a seventh son is born put an earth worm into its hand, tie a piece of linen around the hand and keep it tied until the worm dies. It was said that this will give the child power to charm away all diseases. Although how you’re supposed to know when the worm has died if it’s all tied up is beyond me. May be by the smell.

The same thing worked if the worm was put into the hand of a baby and kept there until it was baptised. The baby not the worm.

You should also sew a piece of iron into a baby’s clothes until after it has been baptised. This was to ensure protection from the fairies as they fear iron.

If a baby was born in the house it was believed to be unlucky if you gave away a coal from the fire before the baby was baptised.

People born in the morning cannot see spirits or the fairy world. However, those born at night have a power over ghosts and can see the spirits of the dead.

Conception could be prevented if an enemy tied a knot in a handkerchief at the time of marriage. No child could be born to that couple until the knot was undone.  Once again folks don’t depend on this bit of advice.

It was also said to be bad luck for a pregnant woman to attend a funeral in case her baby would be born dead or deformed. It was believed that a condition known as Clubfoot was caused by the mother slipping or stumbling in the graveyard and there is a story told about one lady who was foolish enough to go to a funeral when she was heavily pregnant, she leaned against a headstone and when her baby was born it had a birthmark in the shape of a headstone on its back.  The teller of this story swore it to be true “By the help of god”.  Pregnant women were even told not to remain in a house while a corpse was being placed in the coffin, nor act as a sponsor to a bride.

May Day was said to be the luckiest day on which to give birth but Whitsun was thought to be the most unlucky day of all.  A child born at Whitsun will have an evil temper and may grow up to be a murderer. However, in order to turn away bad luck from a child born at that time a grave must be dug and the baby laid in it for a few minutes. After this the evil spell is broken and the baby will be safe.  Well there’s not a hope of that happening these days, the mother would split you in six if you tried anything like that.

Babies sometimes take their time in coming and before we had the modern medical treatments available today a full bottle of castor oil was given to the fasting mother and this usually brought on the birth. Another method was to immerse the expectant mother in a hot bath. It was also believed that if you wished to predict the baby’s sex you stuck a needle into a piece of cork threaded the needle then swung it like a pendulum over the stomach of the expectant mother. If it swung right to left it meant a boy, if it went in a circle then a girl was on her way.

Finally, the coming of a baby into a family was and is a great and happy event. The time of birth is important, babies usually come with the phase of the moon and if a baby was overdue then the old people would be out watching the moon to see how close to the full moon or new moon it was.

If you know of any superstitions regarding babies or infants then post them on my facebook page or on my blog at www.wrfm.ie and go to The Storyteller.

The Soul Cage.

And now a story about a fisherman and a merrow it’s called

 

The Soul Cage.

Jack and his wife lived in a small cottage on the coast. Jack was a fisherman just like his father and his grandfather before him, it was a family tradition and although some would think it was a wild and desolate place to live they were happy and content. They had their own little spot that was well protected from the Atlantic winds where their boat lay nice and snug.

 As we all know here on the west coast the storms can come on a richly-laden ship and when this happens who can blame a man who finds things like fine bales of cotton, barrels of rum or wine, casks of brandy and even kegs of tobacco washed upon the shore. In some ways Jack had his own little kingdom. To be fair to him, there was many a time he braved the storm in his little boat to rescue a sailor from a sinking vessel so in many ways you could say that these pickings were his reward.

Now many a night Jack heard and saw strange sights and sounds but as you can already tell he was a brave and hardy man and nothing daunted him. In fact, Jack often wished he could meet a Mermaid or a Merrow for he had been reared to believe that luck always came from meeting them. He would often see the Merrows moving along through the water in their magical robes of mist and although he always chased after them he never caught up with them and many a scolding he got from the wife when he arrived home with no fish for the dinner. Little did she know what he was really after? What annoyed him even more was the fact that both his father and grandfather had told him many a story about their dealings with the Merrow.

However, fortune smiled on Jack one day. As he was strolling along the beach looking to see what had been washed up after a storm he saw perched on a rock a little out to sea, what looked like a green man wearing a cocked hat? Jack rubbed his eyes and looked again, yes it was still there, unmoving upon the rock, after staring and wondering for a good half hour Jack gave a whistle and shouted to get its attention, when the Merrow (for that’s what it was) heard this he gave a start, pulled his hat tightly on his head and dived into the sea.

 Well that was it, Jack’s curiosity was now raised and he returned to the same spot every day but never saw him again. He decided that he must have been dreaming and left it at that. One day however, after another storm he was again walking along the shore when he saw the Merrow swimming and jumping around the same rock as before. He suddenly realised that it was after a storm when he first saw him and he now only had to choose when he wished to meet him.

One extremely windy day, before he got to the point where he had a view of the Merrow's rock, a storm came on so furiously that Jack had to take shelter in one of the caves which are so numerous along the coast; and there, to his astonishment, he saw sitting before him a thing with green hair, long green teeth, a red nose, and pig's eyes. It had a fish's tail, legs with scales on them, and short arms like fins. It wore no clothes, but had the cocked hat under its arm, and seemed engaged thinking very seriously about something. Jack, taking his courage in his hands, approached the Merrow and said “Your servant, sir” to which the Merrow replied “Your servant, Jack”. Jack was surprised that the Merrow knew his name and said so.

“Why man, I knew your grandfather long before he was married to Judy Regan, your grandmother! Ah, Jack, Jack, I was fond of that grandfather of yours; he was a mighty worthy man in his time: I never met his match above or below, before or since, for sucking in a shellful of brandy. Although you’re poor father had no head at all for the drink. I hope it’s your grandfather ye take after?”

“Don’t you be worrying about me” said Jack, “I can hold me own”

"Well, I like to hear you talk so manly; you and I must be better acquainted, if it were only for your grandfather's sake."

"I'm sure, said Jack, "since your honour lives down under the water, you must be obliged to drink a powerful amount to keep any heat in you in such a cruel, damp, cold place. Well, I've often heard of Christians drinking like fishes; and might I be as bold as ask where you get the spirits?"

"Where do you get them yourself, Jack?" said the Merrow, twitching his red nose between his forefinger and thumb.

“You must have a well stocked cellar sir, It would be worth seeing” said Jack.

“Meet me here next Monday at the same time and we will see what we can do” said the Merrow, and with that they parted like long lost friends.

On the Monday Jack was surprised to see the Merrow had two hats with him, one under each arm. “Why have you two hats with you?” asked Jack. “You will need to wear one so you may come down and dine with me” replied the Merrow. Now Jack was a brave man so he did as he was bid even though he was afraid of drowning and they both left the cave. When they reached the rock the Merrow said,

“Just put this hat on your head, and mind to keep your eyes wide open. Take hold of my tail, and follow after me, and you'll see what you'll see."

Into the sea they dived, and, at last, to Jack's great surprise, they got out of the water, and he actually found himself on dry land at the bottom of the sea. They landed just in front of a nice house that was slated very neatly with oyster shells! And the Merrow, turning about to Jack, welcomed him down.

Jack really was hungry, and it gave him no small pleasure to perceive a fine column of smoke rising from the chimney, announcing what was going on within. Into the house he followed the Merrow, and there he saw a good kitchen, well provided with everything. There was a noble dresser, and plenty of pots and pans, with two young Merrows cooking. His host then led him into the room, which was furnished shabbily enough. Not a table or a chair was there in it; nothing but planks and logs of wood to sit on, and eat off. There was, however, a good fire blazing upon the hearth--a comfortable sight to Jack.

 “Come in and have a wee drink and I’ll show you the cellar” said the Merrow.

 Jack ate and drank till he could eat no more: then taking up a shell of brandy he said "Here's to your honour's good health, sir though, begging you pardon, it's mighty odd that as long as we've been acquainted I don't know your name yet."

"That's true, Jack," replied he; "I never thought of it before, but better late than never. My name's Coomara."

At length said he to Jack, "Now, my dear boy, if you follow me, I'll show you my curiosities!" He opened a little door, and led Jack into a large room, where Jack saw a great many odds and ends that Coomara had picked up at one time or another. What chiefly took his attention; however, were things like lobsterpots ranged on the ground along the wall.

"Well, Jack, how do you like my curiosities?" said old Coo.

 "Upon my life, sir," said Jack, "they're mighty well worth the looking at; but might I make so bold as to ask what those things like lobster-pots are?"

"Oh! The Soul Cages, is it?"

"The what? Sir!"

"These things here that I keep the souls in”.

"Arragh! What souls, sir?" said Jack, in amazement; "sure the fish have no souls in them?"

"Oh! No," replied Coo, quite coolly, "that they have not; but these are the souls of drowned sailors."

"The Lord preserve us from all harm!" muttered Jack, "how in the world did you get them?"

"Easily enough:  when I see a good storm coming on, I set a couple of dozen of these, and then, when the sailors are drowned and the souls get out of them under the water, the poor things are almost perished to death, not being used to the cold; so they make into my pots for shelter, and then I have them snug, and fetch them home, and is it not well for them, poor souls, to get into such good quarters?"

Jack did not know what to say so he stood up and said he thought it was time for him to return home.

Just as you like, Jack," said Coo, "but take a duc an durrus before you go; you've a cold journey before you."

Jack took the parting glass and out of the house they went. Coomara placed the hat upon Jack’s head told him to throw it back when he reached the surface and with a great heave launched Jack up into the water.

As time passed, Jack kept thinking of the souls trapped in the lobster pots and he came up with a plan to release them. He would invite Coomara to dinner, get him drunk, take his hat, swim down and release the souls and come back all before Coomara sobered up. Now what to do with the wife? Jack decided to pretend to have become very pious and said to Biddy (his wife, for that was her name)

“It would be good for our souls if you were to go and do the stations around the Holy Well, but you’ll have to stay there from dawn till dusk, for you have been awful slow in yer wifely duties” (we won’t say what her reply was).

The coast was now clear so away Jack went to the rock and gave the agreed signal to Coomara, which was throwing a big stone into the sea. Up came Coomara,

"Good morning, Jack," said he; "what do you want with me?"

“Would you like a bit of dinner and a few drinks with me?”

“I would” said the Merrow, “when do you want me to come?”

“Oh, how does one o’ clock sound, that way it will still be daylight for you to go home by”

"Perfect, sounds good to me" said Coomara.

At the dinner Jack took care to have his own liquor well watered, and to give the strongest brandy he had to Coo. At last says he,

 "Pray, sir, did you ever drink any poteen? Any real mountain dew?"

"No," says Coo; "what's that, and where does it come from?"

“Oh, that’s a secret, but what I can tell you is that it’s fifty times stronger than any brandy or rum you have ever drank, and as you’re a friend of the family, I have a few bottles to treat you with”

Coo was delighted: he drank and he sang Rum bum boodle boo over and over again; and he laughed and he danced, till he fell on the floor fast asleep. Then Jack, who had taken good care to keep sober, snapped up the cocked hat, ran off to the rock and dived into the sea and soon arrived at Coo's house. All was quiet and in he went, turning up the pots he heard a little sound like a low whistle (for no-one can see a soul) and having set them all free he went outside.

 Now, how to get back to the surface? All of a sudden Jack saw a large cod passing by so he grabbed its tail, the cod in amazement made a dash for the surface taking Jack with him. He got to the rock in no time and without a moment's delay hurried home, rejoicing in the good deed he had done.

Meanwhile, Biddy had returned home from the Holy Well. Entering the house she saw the mess Jack had made (for no man can keep a kitchen clean). All of a sudden she heard a grunt from under the table and looking down she saw Coomara on the floor surrounded by poteen bottles.

 “Holy mother of God, that pig of a husband of mine has turned into a proper beast” and she rushed out of the house.

As she was wondering what to do she heard singing coming up the road and recognised the sound of Jack’s voice. Well she was so pleased that she didn’t have to be married to an auld smelly man-fish, Jack explained to her all he had done and the great thing he had done for the souls of the fishermen.

Coomara never missed the souls, for fishermen and sailors were always getting lost at sea so the lobster pots were always filling up again. Jack and Coomara remained the best of friends and he continued finding excuses to get into the house beneath the sea unknown to Coomara and freeing the newly trapped souls. This went on for many years until one day Coomara never answered the call. Without the hat, Jack could not swim down to see what had become of the Merrow, he believed that the old man-fish, or whatever he was, had either died, or gone to some other part of the sea. Of the souls, no more was heard.