History of Papa Stronsay and Orkney

The top photograph was taken in Papa Stronsay in the 1933 and is part of a collection very kindly lent to us by Mrs Nan Scott of Kirkwall. Her husband, Jack Scott, passed away in September 2002, shortly after his wife had organised a Papa Stronsay evening in Kirkwall. At that meeting a photograph was taken of all those present who had been born on Papa Stronsay, including Mr Scott. He had a very great love for his island birthplace. May he rest in peace.

To the extreme left, you see the old schoolhouse. Next to the right are the living accommodation for all the women that participated in the gutting of the fish. In front are four landing stages, which belonged to four different companies: Donaldson’s, Joe Slater’s, Jenkins’, later Bremlow’s and Sinclair & Buchan’s. From these four landing stages, the barrels of salted herring were sent off in ships to different parts of Europe. Back and to the right, you see the Big House with another house (no longer standing) directly in front of it. Further to the right is McIver’s, another company. Lower in the picture is the Papay pier. And to the extreme right you see the old kitchen.

The lower photograph shows Papa Stronsay as it is today. Starting at the left, you see the 24 new cells, most of which are now completed. Further back you see the old Big House, renamed St Michael’s House, with the attached outbuildings that now serve as kitchen, refectory, and tool shed. To the right is the boat house - just as it was in the 1930’s. And McIver’s has been changed into the Holy Face Building, which includes the chapel to the extreme right. And in front is the Papay pier, the port of disembarkation for passengers from Stronsay.

Life on an Orkney Isle
75 Years Ago

by Mr William Miller of Stronsay.

Papa Stronsay has a very exciting past, and no doubt will have a very interesting and exciting future. From the Culdee monks, through the days of the Vikings, the slaying of Earl Rognvald Brusason in 1046 by the supporters of Thorfinn the Mighty, and the days of the herring fishing industry which peaked in the early 1900’s, “Papay” has had a varied and interesting career.
Used as an overspill area for the Stronsay herring fishing industry, it soon became an important fishing port in its own right, with no less than five curing stations spread along its southern seafront. When you approach the island today, you disembark on the jetty which was owned in the herring fishing days by a fish curer called McIver. Photo 1 shows McIver’s curing station covered in thousands of barrels, with fish gutters and coopers who were responsible for making the barrels, all hard at work. You can see the railway tracks on which ran the “bogeys”, or small railway trucks, to convey the barrels of herring down the jetty to the waiting ships. In the background stands the building which was home to some of the workers, and which now houses the chapel, sacristy, common room and four monks’ cells.

1. Gutters at work at McIver’s curing station on Papa Stronsay.

Travelling west along the foreshore, you arrive at the curing station owned by Sinclair & Buchan. All that is left now is the skeleton of the jetty, vertical lengths of old railway track, which once supported this very busy landing stage. Photo 2 (at bottom of back page) shows a very active scene at Sinclair & Buchan’s – herring drifters tied alongside the jetty, baskets of fish on a bogey being towed along the rails by a small lorry, and the local shopkeeper, James Stout, landing provisions from his small boat. All the provisions, meat, bread, etc., had to be transported by boat from Stronsay. Papay even had its own ice cream shop.

2. A busy day at Sinclair & Buchan’s jetty on Papa Stronsay. James Stout unloading provisions from the small boat.

3. Steam Ship ‘Henry’ loading barrels at Sinclair & Buchan’s jetty, circa 1938.

Large steam ships transported all the salt and barrels of herrings to and from Stronsay and Papay, and this in itself was a monumental task. For instance, in 1922 the total catch was 19,700 crans of herrings, which translated into 24,850 barrels of cured fish, valued at £23,100. As a general rule, it took one barrel of salt to cure three barrels of herrings, and so large ships were necessary for the transportation. Photo 3 shows one such ship loading barrels at Sinclair & Buchan’s jetty circa 1938. To the left of the ship’s bow you can see accommodation for the women who gutted the fish, and over the ship’s foredeck can be seen a large shed where the herrings were put into large boxes of “farlands”, ready for gutting and salting.

The process of salting or “curing” the herrings was quite a protracted affair. When the fish arrived in the “farlands”, salt was sprinkled over them, and the workers had to ensure that every herring came into contact with the salt. This was known as “rousing”, and was a very important part of the process. Next, the herrings were gutted and made ready for packing. Each herring was placed on its back in the barrel, starting at the side and working across the barrel until you had a complete layer. Salt would then be sprinkled on top of that layer, and the amount of salt depended on several factors: (1) the size of the fish, (2) the strength of the salt, (3) the final destination of the herrings, and (4) the length of time the herrings were likely to be kept in the barrels. The packing continued with a layer of fish and a sprinkling of salt until the fish were above the level of the barrel top. After one or two days, the fish level would sink far enough to allow the barrel top to be fixed in place, or “tighted”. The barrel would then be laid on its side for eight to ten days, then stood upright, and the pickle drained off through the bung-hole. At this stage, the herrings would be packed down tight with the hands, and would have lost about 15 % to 20% in volume, so would have to be topped up again with more herrings. The barrel would again be “tighted” and laid on its side to check for leaks. If there were no leaks, the cure was complete, and ready for shipping off to various destinations, such as Russia, Germany, and up to a thousand miles inland from the Baltic ports. It was said that “if the Russian peasant can obtain a Scottish herring, a cucumber and a piece of black bread, he is satisfied.”

It is difficult to visualise the enormity of the task of shipping all the barrels, but Photo 4 will give you some idea of what one shipload amounted to.

4. Steam Ship ‘Dalalfven’, loading herring barrels
at Sinclair & Buchan’s jetty, circa 1938.

Moving west along the foreshore, you would arrive at three more curing stations: Jenkins’, Sclater’s and Donaldson’s – each with its own jetty and crews of gutters, packers, coopers, and all the auxiliary workers necessary to keep the process running smoothly and efficiently. It is said that on a working day there would be up to 1000 men and women employed on Papay. Photo 5 gives you a view of the last mentioned curing stations, with the farmhouse and outbuildings on the extreme right. This photograph was taken about 1917, and therefore does not show the many “gutters’ huts” and “farlands” which were erected later.

5. Curing stations, Papa Stronsay, circa 1917.

The herring fishing in Stronsay and Papa Stronsay died out with the beginning of the Second World War in 1939, and sadly, never came back. It would be nice to see it again for just one day.

Archaeologists come to Papa Stronsay

For ten days at the end of August (2001), a team of archaeologists from Orkney and England came to Papa Stronsay to review the work uncovered over the last few years on the site of the St Nicholas chapel, which they say was built by the Celtic monks in the ninth century. In past years, the archaeologists have discovered such artefacts as an altar stone, four skeletons, a monastic hermit’s cell, a baptismal font and a piece of green porphyry from a place of pilgrimage in Greece. This year, further excavations were carried out to the east of the chapel on the edge of the North Sea, revealing more of a double wall of the ancient cloister. The archaeologists are scheduled to return later in the year to survey the rest of the island and determine where the new monastery may be built.

Italian Chapel, Lamb Holm, Orkney

Built during World War 2 by Italian prisoners of war engaged in building the Churchill Barriers, this beautiful little chapel is all that remains of camp 60. Constructed from two Nissen huts, the chapel is situated on the Holm side of Lamb Holm. “Catholics believe that nothing can be too good for God, and, therefore, desire that the building consecrated to His worship should be at least as beautiful a one as they can afford to build.”

Papa Stronsay:
the Burial Place of Sir Patrick Spens

The history relating to the burial of Sir Patrick Spens on Earl’s Knowle on Papa Stronsay is related by William Edmonstoune Aytoun (b. Edinburgh 21 June 1813, d. 4 August 1865). Aytoun was educated at Edinburgh Academy (of which his father was a founder) and at Edinburgh University, graduating in Law in 1833. He was made Sheriff and Lord Admiral of Orkney and Shetland in 1852. It was after his retirement from this position that he edited a collection of Scottish poetry in which the first poem is Sir Patrick Spens, subsequently made more famous by the poet Coleridge. In his forward to the poem Aytoun writes: “It is true that the name of Sir Patrick Spens is not mentioned in history; but I am able to state that tradition has preserved it. In the little island of Papa Stronsay, one of the Orcadian group, lying over against Norway, there is a large grave or tumulus, which has been known to the inhabitants, from time immemorial, as ‘The grave of Sir Patrick Spens’. The Scottish ballads were not early current in Orkney, a Scandinavian country; so it is very unlikely that the poem could have originated the name. The people know nothing beyond the traditional appellation of the spot, and they have no legend to tell. Spens is a Scottish, not a Scandinavian name -is it, then, a forced conjecture, that the shipwreck took place off the iron bound coast of the northern islands, which did not then belong to the Crown of Scotland? ‘Half ower to Aberdour’ signifies nothing more than that the vessel went down half-way between Norway and the port of embarkation.”

We are happy that this history in now recorded in the text of our Grant of Arms under the judgment of the Writer of the Queen’s Signet, the Lord Lyon of Scotland.

Shortly after the New Year, Mr Duncan Dallas and his family visited Papa Stronsay. Mrs Dallas is the translator of Nuticulus Satirique – the Latin translation of Enid Blyton’s Noddy and the Goblins.

 

Sir Patrick Spens Anonymous, 17th Century I. The Sailing The King sits in Dunfermline town Drinking the blude-red wine; “O whare will I get a skeely skipper To sail this new ship o’ mine?” O up and spak an eldern knight, Sat at the king’s right knee; “Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That ever sail’d the sea.” Our king has written a braid letter, And seal’d it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand. “To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o’er the faem; The king’s daughter o’ Noroway, ’Tis thou must bring her hame.” The first word that Sir Patrick read So loud, loud laugh’d he; The heist word that Sir Patrick read The tear blinded his e’e. “O wha is this has done this deed And tauld the king o’ me, To send us out, at this time o’ year, To sail upon the sea? “Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, Our ship must sail the faem; The king’s daughter o’ Noroway, ’Tis we must fetch her hame.” They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn Wi’ a’ the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway Upon a Wodensday. II. The Return “Mak ready, mak ready, my merry men a’! Our guide ship sails the morn.” “Now ever alack, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm. “I saw the new moon late yestereen Wi’ the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we’ll come to harm.” They hadna sail’d a league, a league, A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea. The ankers brak, and the topmast lap, It was sic a deadly storm: And the waves cam owre the broken ship Till a’ her sides were torn. “Go fetcha web o’ the silken claith, Another o’ the twine, And wap them into our ship’s side, And let nae the sea come in.” They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith, Another o’ the twine, And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side, But still the sea came in. O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To wet their cork-heel’d shoon; But lang or a’ the play was play’d They wat their hats aboon. And mony was the feather bed That flatter’d on the faem; And mony was the gude lord’s son That never mair cam home. O lang, lang may the ladies sit, Wi’ their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand! And lang, lang may the maidens sit Wi’ the gowd kames in their hair, A-waiting for their ain dear loves! For them they’ll see nae mair. Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour, ’Tis fifty fathoms deep; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet! Glossary: skeely: skilful; lift: sky; lap: sprang; flatter’d:    tossed afloat; kames: combs

To Golgotha o’er the Faem by Mr Duncan Dallas A man sat in the Stronsay Inn, Drinking the blude-red wine; “O whar will I get a guid sailor, To sail at New Year Time?” Up and spake the landlord then, He spake for all tae hear: “Them monks next door sail everyday, Without a trace of fear.” The man went to the monks’ abode, While they were at their tea, “Myself and all my family Would fain Golgotha see.” “The snaw is fallin’ all aroond, The wind is muckle great, But we’ll tak ye to Golgotha isle, We do not fear our fate.” “Mak haste, mak haste my family, Our guid ship sails the morne.” “‘Oh faither,” they said one and all, “We fear a deadly storme.” “Late, late yestreen I saw the new moon, Wi’ the auld moone in hir arme.” “Dinna ye fash my bonny loon, We will nae come to harme.” They boarded a peerie sailing boat, The lady was cairted by hand, They set off with some pilgrims From many a foreign land. The travellers thought of Sir Patrick Spens, Who was shiprecked on this isle, But the monks did sing and pray to God To keep them all the while. And as they reached the other side, They were greeted most warmily, And wi’ muckle glee they stepped ashore On this Desert in a Pathless Sea. Glossary: The lady was cairted by hand:     Mrs Dallas is wheelchair-bound.

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