Swampscott Dory

 

"Dories have long been recognized as fine seaboats, but their low initial stability and active response to wave action is apt to be disconcerting to the sailor unaccustomed to dories."


The late John Gardner of Mystic Seaport combined a massive understanding of the history and practicalities of small boat design and construction with an ability to write lucid and interesting prose to guide the novice through his or her first few projects.


When I got a copy of "Building Classic Small Craft" about twenty five years ago I had just completed the Joel White Nutshell, about which I have already enthused - here- and was ready for a larger project. The book was a treasure chest of interesting shapes and romantic histories, evocative of the coast of Maine in its transition from a series of traditional fishing ports to a holiday destination, conjuring up the spirit of Winslow Homer.

 

Here were fully detailed drawings of everything from planks to spars and sails, with simple instructions and words of encouragement. Long evenings were spent agonising over which of these evocative craft should grace the shores of Loch Melfort. 

There were a number of factors in the choice of the Swampscott dory as my next build. The shape was enticing, a lovely curve to the stem and an extreme "tombstone" stern, plus an utterly insane leg o' mutton mainsail and tiny jib set on an unstayed mast. I read that if you saw a line squall coming up you could throw the whole rig overboard in an instant and the boat would ride to it on her mainsheet like a sea anchor. That transom could never take an outboard, so rowability was a major factor.

Dories evolved in ancient history when wide flexible planks of cedar or pine were available, many presumably coming form old-growth forests long since destroyed. Plywood is of course an excellent modern alternative, stable and capable of providing a watertight glued structure.  Also there weren't too many planks to cut, unlike some of the other lovely designs in the book.

Like most amateur projects my dory was massively over-built. The hull planking came from 9mm marine ply, sourced from an ordinary builder's merchants, put together upside down over a temporary strong back set into the frames. The latter were cut off to length in due course and remained in the finished boat.

To get the sixteen foot length most of the planks had two scarfs.

I hadn't learned the delights of epoxy and glued the lands together with a polyurethane glue that went off in contact with moisture, not a problem in Argyll, but a plant spray was useful in occasional dry days. I didn't entirely trust the glue and added hundreds of copper nails as well, quite unnecessarily.

Don't paint the inside this colour - it attracts dung beetles

End of shed unbolted to get her out - it never recovered

The plank dimensions in the book were accurate and everything went together pretty well. My one gripe with these old American designs is with the profiles of centreboards and rudders. We now know that a good hydrofoil shape will make a world of difference to the performance of any vessel through the water and while there's an historical argument for keeping the traditional slab shape there's also a lot to be said for improving performance when it can easily be achieved. Here is the board, as drawn, just after I had cast in the required lead to make it sink.

In the Spring of 1988 the dory Anne, named after an understanding wife, took the water.

During the build process I had dreams of the result being an ideal boat for messing about, perhaps evening sails with a few friends, one in the bow with the case of beer passing refreshments down the line as required. Homer had after all got five boys aboard his admittedly slightly larger craft. But the dory turned out to be no picnic boat. Neither wife nor dog showed any great enthusiasm for going out in what was in reality quite a racy machine.

Dory and Nutshell

I found that I was mainly taking the dory Anne out on my own, which gave me a good sense of her qualities. One was her extreme sensitivity to weight distribution. Any movement forward would bring her sharply into the wind, so I changed the steering by removing the tiller and substituting a yoke with lines leading round the boat, enabling her to be controlled from anywhere.

The new Commander

Eventually dory Anne found a new owner, younger and fitter than I and with friends willing to experience the excitement of a hull that heals just so far, the rail exactly on the water, but that is almost impossible to push further. Under her new commander she made frequent explorations down the loch, invariably bringing her new crew home safe and well, if a little wet. I don't think the experience was unique, because when John Gardner's Volume Two came out there were drawings for wider, improved version. The quotation above comes from there.

From a construction point of view the dory lasted well. She endured many years of minimal maintenance and is still around somewhere, but I don't know where. She has been through a number of changes of ownership, generally and as far as I know has never been sold.

A dirty old night on the Clyde

 

It was late in the season and the sun had not been seen all day. If it hadn't been my turn to assist the race officer there's no way I would have gone, and as I drove down through wind and rain I wondered if even the Loch Longs would turn out to race.

They always do, of course, and on that evening fifteen or so years ago there were also a pair of Islanders.  With only two starts there wasn't a lot for us to do. I had a good view from the top of the clubhouse and took these pictures of Cara and Gigha battling it out.

 

Above is Gigha, then recently restored and owned by David Spy, romping in before the start.

Here is the scene in the last minute, followed by a couple of shots just after the start.

The boats were sent off on a long beat from Gourock to Hunters Quay, followed by a short reach down the Firth and then a run home. The race officer figured that even a couple of hardened old sea-dogs like David and Martyn would find that enough.

Here are some shots of Gigha as she bashed her way over towards the Kilcreggan shore.

The weather thickened so much that we lost sight of both contestants for a while. Eventually as visibility got even worse the wind moderated a bit and Gigha emerged from the murk, a few hundred yards ahead of her rival.

Gigha carried her full canvas throughout this race, which meant that she was pretty pressed at the start but had the advantage later, helped by David's crew being willing to hoist a spinnaker. Martyn decided to keep the full main and fly a tiny storm-jib. This helped Cara after the start, but gave her a serious handicap later on.

Traditionally the Islanders never reefed, but I think that with stronger modern sail-cloths they are now easily over-pressed and go better with a shorter main and not dragging their side-decks through the water.

More ramblings on Bute - and why this man kerfed children

In the early part of the Nineteenth century, before the railways and steamers turned it into a holiday resort, Rothesay was a centre for the herring fishery and associated commerce. The Firth of Clyde generally was home to countless little herring skiffs, with almost every port having its family of boat-builders and numerous variations in design, but all sharing the basic features of speed, light build, deeply sloping keels and lugsail rig. They were nimble to handle the nets and fast, partly to get the catch home but mainly to run for safety in sudden changes of weather. On fairs and days of rest these boats turned out rigged for racing and in due course the first small racing yachts would copy the skiffs pretty closely.

In those early days before the fishing industry became mechanised and destroyed the stocks the Clyde contained herring in their millions and a major industry evolved, curing these and sending them to the Baltic states in fast schooners designed for the purpose. One such vessel was the Inverune, built for Donald Macewen originally of Otter, near Inverary, around the end of the Eighteenth Century, when he moved to the isle of Bute. On Donald's death the Inverune passed to his son John, by this time already her master, and his herring business passed to his younger son Colin.

John continued to trade with the Inverune for many years, carrying salt herring to Scandinavia and returning with timber for the ship building industry and occasionally making shorter trips within Scotland with general cargoes. He built up a considerable fortune, while his wife produced children at a prodigious rate, ending with a round dozen. Disaster struck on a date which I have been so far unable to discover, but probably around 1840, when the Inverune was driven ashore on the West coast of Ireland in a winter gale and broke her back.

Captain John's career now took a curious new turn. In 1843 the Great Disruption happened in Scotland, when an enormous number of members and preachers in the Church of Scotland left to form a new organisation, the Free Church. Some of the issues were doctrinal, which Scots keep falling out about (an old professor once told me that the reason the Scots love to argue is because it's free). Others were political and related to the Church of Scotland having sided with the landowners in the clearances and enforced emigrations.

Curiously, because of his background, a major supporter of the new church was the Eton-educated John Campbell, the second marquess of Breadalbane and a freemason and massive landowner. It's difficult after all this time to understand why such a fellow would be attracted to a disputatious and frugal bunch like the Free Church. Campbell commissioned a very fine yacht to carry missionaries from the new church to the islands and the wooden schooner Breadalbane was duly built by J Barnhill of Cartsdyke, West Greenock and launched in 1844. At just over fifty feet over the deck 13.4 feet in beam and twentynine tons she was apparently a fine sight.

John Campbell

It's said to be very bad luck to go to sea with a preacher and Captain John Macewen now had to contend with up to six of the creatures. One can imagine them, like black crows, pacing the deck engaged deep in discussion on textual minutiae or huddled in prayer in the vessel's commodious main cabin. For the next few years Macewen took these strange evangelicals to remote places where the people were often still at least partially pagan. I've read that there were difficulties finding volunteers for the more extreme places, like St Kilda. Indeed that island ended up with one of the most extreme members of the new cult, who could hardly have been welcomed by a population struggling constantly to stay alive, scaling the cliffs to capture gannets and so on, without having to feed an additional and entirely unproductive mouth.

While this was going on Mrs Macewen back home in Rothesay gave birth to her twelfth and final child on the day after Midsummer 1848. He was to become Sir William Macewen, one of the most successful and inspirational surgeons of all time. During his childhood in Rothesay he was to spend time playing around the Fyfes' Red Shed and eventually learning some wood-working skills from them. Almost certainly what he learned from the Fyfes, not just in terms of manual skills, but also in confidence and self-reliance had a profound effect on his subsequent work.

By the age of twentynine the future Sir William was a full surgeon at the Royal Infirmary in Glasgow and at fortyfour he was Regius Professor at Glasgow University. Among his achievements he pioneered neuro-surgery by removing for the first time a brain tumour. The twentyfive year old patient was surprised to find himself alive after the procedure.

Initially a champion of anti-septic sprays Sir William converted early on to aseptic surgery, boiling his instruments and banishing those with wooden handles. He recognised the status and importance of nurses and was an enthusiast for women being educated and having their own careers. He made a detailed study of the growth of bone.

Throughout his career Sir William continued to moonlight as a police casualty surgeon and worked among some of the poorest of Glasgow's rapidly growing population. The children of recent immigrants from the Highlands and Ireland were often malnourished and suffered from the terrible deforming bone disease of rickets. Sir William recalled the Fyfes' practice of bending wood by the process known as kerfing, making a series of saw cuts across the plank and bending it. He adapted this by reversing it to enable the children's legs to be opened up, kerfed and straightened. Securely held in straight splints the young bones soon recovered.

Sir William's last major achievement was as a founder of Erskine Hospital, set up in 1916 to cope with the huge numbers of mutilated and limbless soldiers returning from the war. Again he recalled his early days in Rothesay, encouraging carpenters and pattern-makers from the shipyards to transfer into the manufacture of wooden artificial limbs.

Sir William declined to take holidays, but built himself a fine country retreat at Garrochty in the South-west corner of Bute, with a private pier for his boat. He continued to operate until shortly before his death in March 1924, just short of his seventysixth birthday.

Garrochty

The Other Fyfes

The Fyfes of Bute

A great deal has been written about the legendary Fifes of Fairlie, the three generations of craftsmen who produced some of the loveliest yachts ever seen. Many of these are of course still around, a few in original condition but mostly re-incarnations and a few entire new-builds. In fact this talented family were spread much more widely than just around Fairlie and this post is an attempt to commemorate one of the other branches of the family which has been somewhat eclipsed by their more famous relatives, namely the Fyfes of Bute. The above appears to show this family of three brothers and some of their workforce in their yard on the shore at Ardmaleish, near where Alfred Mylne was later to establish his Bute Slip yard.

In her well-known history "Fast and Bonnie" May Fife McCallum recounts how:-

"A cousin [of William Fife I] John, who was a carpenter in Ardrossan, and his wife, both died about the same time, and an uncle in Ardrossan took care of their three sons. Apparently these orphaned boys were not happy in this household and walked from Ardrossan to Fairlie, a distance of about ten miles, to throw themselves on the mercy of their father's cousin. He took them under his wing and employed them as apprentices. On completion of their apprenticeship they crossed to the island of Bute where they set up a successful boat building business at Ardmaleish."

This struck me as a slightly romantic tale of Victorian hardship and kindness and I wondered if in fact the boys were transferred by agreement not just in order to be trained but also to add much needed workers to the rapidly expanding Fairlie yard. I decided to try to discover a little more from the records.

I find ancestral research fascinating and have had a lot of pleasure, for example, in tracing my own tribe back about eight generations. A few years ago this sort of research would have entailed numerous visits to the national and local archives and been too time-consuming for anyone with a career to undertake. Now thanks to some excellent websites matters are much easier.

There are still pitfalls, such as confusions over spelling and the tendency for families to favour particular forenames. There was also a Scottish tradition of naming later children after earlier ones who had died, which doesn't help the historian. Both of these aspects can be found in the Fyfe/Fife history, with forenames such as John and William being favoured.

According to May Fife McCallum a John Fyfe was born in Kilbirnie in 1743 and moved to the Earl of Glasgow's Kelburn Estate to work as a wright in 1770. He and his wife Janet, nee Fyfe and probably a cousin had at least six children of whom four sons, John, James, William and Allan followed their father's trade, William becoming the famous William Fife I. She goes on to record:-

"It appears that John Fyfe Junior, the eldest son of John the wright on Kelburn estate was building fishing boats at the beginning of the 19th century. Old customs records list fishing boats built by him at Fairlie and registered at Irvine, the local port of registration at that time. As a youth William Fife, born in 1785, may have been attracted to his older brother John's business, and thus began his introduction to boat building."

Nothing more is said of this John Fyfe Junior and I was intrigued to find out if he could possibly have been the father of the three orphans, whose names I already knew were John, James and Thomas. I discovered the following, from the 1841 Census:-

This establishes two things. Firstly this John is not John Fyfe Junior, as he was only thirty in 1841. Secondly he was an established shipbuilder, not simply a carpenter. A further search showed that he died from jaundice on 14 May 1848. I couldn't find his wife's date of death. Note that John's brother James is living in the house, as he features later in this story.

A look at the 1851 Census showed that the boys weren't living with William Fife I at that time. Here is the entry for that famous household:-

So where were they? A further search shows two of them in Ardrossan, John a ship carpenter lodging at number 5 Harbour Street and James with his uncle James next door, still an apprentice. It also confirms that both were born in Fairlie. I haven't managed to trace younger brother Thomas and it seems the youngest, Daniel, had passed away.

This seems to confirm that far from being helpless little orphans the brothers were useful, fully or at least partly trained ship carpenters by the time they moved back to their place of birth in Fairlie and joined the workforce of William Fife I. Nor did they stay there long, for by 1856 a large wooden building had gone up on the shore at Rothesay, the Red Shed, probably not actually red in colour but named for the red rocks on which it stood. Here is Alexander Wilson's depiction of it.

On the front at Rothesay in June 2003 during the Fife Regatta I made the acquaintance of a delightful and well-informed lady, who turned out to be Miss Jean M Fife, perhaps the last surviving member of the Bute Fyfe family still in Scotland. I kept in touch with her and she kindly supplied much more information, with permission to publish it as I saw fit. What follows is based on her research in local libraries, conversations with local residents and so on, but not least her own memories of her family and a lifetime of holidays on Bute.

It seems that there were two James Fyfes building boats in Rothesay in the mid 1850s, described as Senior and Junior, but with only half a generation between them. This suggests that Uncle James (born about 1816) had moved from Ardrossan and nephews James (born 1832), John (born 1833) and Thomas (born 1838) had crossed from Fairlie to join him.

These Bute Fyfes were an industrious bunch and built almost anything that could float, apart from yachts. In his "History of Rothesay and its People" Dr Lawson records:-

"The Red Shed was below the level of the road. What is now the [New Rothesay, later St John's] manse garden was the ground on which the larger keels were laid of smacks of a goodly size. Smacks, fishing skiffs and rowing boats (also small boats with round sterns and one sail) were the craft built by Messrs Fyfe. There would be a number of new boats lined up on the ground on the margin of the roadway extending to the ladies' bathing place (now Isle of Bute Sailing Club). Behind the ladies' and gents' bathing places (the old bathing station) the land was lower than the roadway. This depression was used in winter time for the laying up and storing of small rowing boats."

On 13 June 1857 The Buteman announced:-

"On Wednesday last there was launched form the boat-building yard of Messrs. Fyfe a beautiful craft of the gigger rig, c. 20 tons, property of Mr Thorburn, Farmer, Isle of Muck. She was named "The Islander's Bride" by Miss Richmond, daughter of Mr Richmond, Temperance Hotel-keeper, Rothesay and is intended to carry produce of the isle of Muck to Tobermory, the nearest market port in that district, the owner being the lessee of that isle. She has a very faviurable appearance and, considering the cost she is built for, promises to be a swift sailing craft and a credit to her young and enterprising builders."

This would have been one of the first larger vessels built by the family, but they went on to greater things. In April 1858 the Buteman again:-

"Launch! On Tuesday afternoon there was launched form the building yard of Messrs Fyfe a sloop of c. 70 tons burden, the property of Mr Kelso of Arran. The vessel was name "Catherine Kelso." The launch was conducted with systematic accuracy and the vessel glided down the ways gracefully. We hope soon again to witness the launch of as large, if not larger craft form the same yard."

By 1861 the Census described James as a Master Ship carpenter, John as a ship carpenter and Thomas  as a mere journeyman. One can see that they all knew their station.


With the coming of the railways and the Clyde steamers Rothesay entered its heighday as a holiday destination for all classes of society. Wealthier families could afford to build or rent villas along the front, while more ordinary ones went into lodgings for the annual Glasgow Fair. There was terrific business for boat hirers well into the Twentieth century, in fact right up to the arrival of cheap package holidays in the 1960s.

After many years the road along the front at Rothesay was improved and the Red Shed was taken down. The Fyfes moved round to Ardmaleish, where they established their second yard on the site where there now stands a sea-food factory. Thomas (Miss Fife's great-grandfather) didn't join his brothers. Instead he concentrated on building rowing skiffs and in the 1881 Census is described as "boat-builder/hirer (17 boats)."

My grandfather used to take his family on holiday to Port Bannatyne and my  late father recalled that on such a summer's day in the 1920s they were out in a rowing boat off Ardmaleish Point when a whale appeared alongside the boat and alarmed the family. Fortunately my great-aunt Maggie, recently returned from her exploits in South Africa and quite fearless, sang to it and made it go away. It's very likely that the vessel had been constructed by the Bute Fyfes, but probably not by Thomas, as he eventually couldn't cope with an outdoor life and went to spend the rest of his life working in the yard at Fairlie.

The remaining Fyfes eventually concentrated on building fishing skiffs and three of James Fyfe's sons were working at Ardmaleish until the 1930s, by which time the boats were getting much bigger and designs were changing fast. Two of John Fyfe's sons were trained there, but George was drowned aged twenty in 1898 and  John emigrated to Canada in 1906. Most of Miss Fyfe's surviving relatives are now in Canada and the United States.

Anyone interested in finding out a bit more about some ancient Kennedys can visit http://www.kennedystory.blogspot.com

Scottishboating is a year old

This blog is one year old today, so we're celebrating with a cake (and maybe a drop of the Laddie).

A few months ago Nikki and Bart visited from New Zealand, where apparently everyone is into healthy eating. They brought this cake, which is seriously good for putting instant energy into hungry outdoor types, be they salty sailors mariners, crazy canoeists, frozen fishermen or whatever. Of course it suits anyone allergic to wheat or just trying to lose weight. Here is the recipe for-

Nikki's Flourless Fruit Cake

Ingredients:-

2 whole oranges

6 eggs

generous teaspoon of each of nutmeg, cinnamon, mixed spice or whatever plus half teaspoon of ground cloves

300 grams ground almonds

2 kg dried mixed and fruit (chopped prunes, apricots, raisins, sultanas) soaked in rum or brandy for a few days

Method:-

Simmer the oranges in water for 30 minutes, remove, allow to cool, remove pips and blend to a pulp.

Beat the eggs and add the pulped oranges. Mix well now and at every stage.

Add the spice.

Add the almond.

Add the fruit.

When all thoroughly mixed transfer to a square tin 23 to 24 cm lined with baking paper, outside wrapped in two layers of brown paper. Cover top with double layer of baking parchment with hole cut in middle.

Put in oven heated to 120 degrees electric fan or equivalent, bake for 3 hours 45 minutes.

Pour cup of rum or brandy over cooked cake while it's still warm.

I don't apologise for the above product placement, Bruichladdich do such a good job sponsoring the Crinan Classics.

Olympic Yachts - More Images from John Gardner

For Olympic year 1996 John Gardner produced a series of former competitors, which I am happy to show here.

Above is Magda IX, designed by Johan Anker, the Norwegian winner of the Gold at the 1912 Games held at Nynashamn in Sweden. Sadly there were only three entries, the others being Erna-Signe from Sweden and Heatherbell from Finland.

Next we move on to the 1936 Berlin Olympics, the sailing events taking place outside Kiel. The British entry Lalage, designed by Charles E. Nicholson, won the Gold, after a tense series of seven races at the end of which Lalage, the Swiss Ylliam III and the Norwegian Lully II were all equal on points. Unexpectedly the Swiss entry was then disqualified for infringing the amateur status rule. In the redistribution of points between the other two Lalage came out one point better to win the series.

 In his mind's eye John must have been on almost the same spot I was sailing over in 1998 when I took this picture during a race in quite windy conditions. You can see the U-boat memorial in the background in both images.

Fast forward to 1948 at Torbay in Devon. Here we see Johan Anker's Dragon Class yachts, Norwegian design of course and the winner Pan also from Norway, narrowly beating Sweden's Slaghoken and Denmark's Snap.

For Helsinki in 1952 the Swede Richard Sarby designed the Finn Class for single-handed racing with an unusual rotating rig and unstayed mast. Competitors drew lots for identical boats built by Borreson of Denmark, whose Paul Elvstrom won the series with four wins, beating Britain's Charles Curry and the Richard  Sarby himself picking up the bronze.

Next we have the Star Class at the 1964 games on Enoshima Bay near Tokyo. The Bahamas entry Gem took the gold, the American Glider the silver and Sweden's Pelle Pettersson the bronze.

On Lake Ontario in 1976, in Solings, Denmark's Odds-n-Ends took the gold despite only winning one race, the Americans took the silver and the East Germans got the bronze.

Finally John Gardner chose to depict the Tornado catamarans at Long Beach in 1984, the gold going to New Zealand with a boat built by Reg White of Brightlingsea, Essex, the silver to the United States and the bronze to the Australia. With one hull out of the water these machines can easily reach twenty five knots.

From Toberonochy to the Battle of Largs, a voyage through some ancient history

Aileach, a replica birlinn

Regular readers will know that Toberonochy is a favourite spot of mine and I am doing my best to put it back on the world map of Very Important Places, where it surely belongs. When the Greek islands disappear under the rising sea Luing will still be rising from being released from the weight of the mile of glacial ice that melted away a few millennia ago; when the South of France burns to a cinder it will still be raining there; and when the rest of the World runs out of oil and gas Argyll will still be sprouting acres of ashwood for the stove and the hydro schemes will be overflowing. Peter says the county will be covered with lovely windmills too, but I’m not too sure I’m keen on that idea.

Kilchattan Bay is soaked in history. It is where King Alexander II anchored his fleet of one hundred and sixty galleys one night in early July 1249 on his way to a scheduled meeting with Ewan of Argyll, the third Chief of the Clan MacDougall, who controlled the inner isles at that time. Ewan was in the habit of keeping in with both King Haakon of Norway and the Scottish King, which probably both infuriated and pleased both in equal measure. The walls of the old kirk at Kilchattan bear graffiti that may have been done by Alexander's marines during their visit. We know that it depicts Scottish, rather than Norse ships, because they have short, vertical stems and sterns and hung rudders, whereas as everyone knows Viking ships had long ends and were steered with an oar.

Alexander's trip was not a great success. Firstly, Ewan had gone to Stornoway, taking with him the ten year old king of the Isle of Man, for the boy's protection. He wasn’t to return South until 1251. Secondly, the following day Alexander died at Horsehoe Bay on Kerrera. Some reports claim that he developed a sudden fever, but it’s far more likely that he was already stricken with some illness and made his trip in an attempt to obtain some control over this part of what he claimed as his realm after his demise. Among his enormous retinue he apparently had with him Bishop Clement of Dunblane, rather an odd companion for a military expedition unless you were concerned about requiring his services at short notice. I have read a lot about this period and have never come across any suggestion of foul play, so it seems likely that his death had nothing to do with what he might have eaten at the Castle of the Dogs on Torsa, where it’s nice to imagine he maybe had his last dinner. His son, also ten years old, was crowned Alexander III just a week or so later at Perth, which suggests that the Court had the arrangements already in hand.

 

Of course the western isles weren't to come under the control of the Scottish kings for many years later. In a couple of years from now we Scots will no doubt all be celebrating the 750^th anniversary of the Battle of Largs, to get us into the mood for Bannockburn’s 700^th in 2014. The battle didn’t quite end Norse domination of the islands, which continued until the Treaty of Perth in 1266, but it probably demonstrated the difficulties of running outposts so far from home. As I have already mentioned the Scottish and Norse ships had very different characteristics. A Viking longship with her slender flexible hull would have been ideal for crossing the oceans quickly but a nightmare to control in the narrow tidal passages that are one of our main coastal features. The Scottish birlinns were shorter and were developed by the island ruler Somerled (Sorley) into a fighting ship with short ends and a rudder. 

image from McDufie's chapel on Oronsay

Generations of Scottish schoolchildren were taught that the Battle of Largs was a decisive Scottish victory, but modern historians seem to concur in thinking it was more of an inconclusive skirmish in stormy conditions in which a Viking store-ship had been blown ashore. History is usually written by the victor and in this case it may be that both sides felt they had won, so let’s call it a draw.

There follows an account of events found in Hacon's Saga written by Sturla Thordssen, just after Hacon's death.

  "Battle on the Sands: King Hacon Intervenes in Scotland, 1263

The summer before had come letters from the west from the Southern [Western] Isles from the king there, and they made much stir about that strife which the earl of Ross and Kjarnak Machamal's son and other Scots had made in the Southern Isles when they fared out into Skye, and burned farms and churches, and slew a host of men and women. And they said this that the Scots had taken small bairns and spitted them on their spear-points, and shaken them till they fell down on their hands, and cast them dead from off them. [claims of this sort have been a popular form of propaganda tool down the ages from Viking times, through the Belgian babies nonsense of WWI to our present age] They repeated too, many big words of the king of Scots, and said that he meant of a surety to lay under him all the Southern Isles, if life were granted him. And when these tidings came to King Hacon, they touched him with great care; he brought these matters before his friends and councillors. But whatever any man might say about it, king Hacon there and then let letters of summons be sent round all Norway after Yule and called out the levies both of men and stores as he thought the land could best bear it; he summoned all the host to meet him early in the summer at Bergen.

The invasion fleet sailed, but, lying at anchor in Cumbrae sound, ships were driven ashore and attacked by the Scots.

When they saw that the main battle was drawing near, men begged the king to get into a boat and row out to the ships to send them much more force. The king offered to be on land with them, but they would not bring him into such risk; and for that he put off in a boat, and rowed out under the isle to his force. These were the liegemen who were on land: Ogmund crow-dance, Erling Alf's son, Andrew pot, Erlend the red, Andrew Nicholas' son, Thorlaug the hot and Paul sour. There were near sixty men from the king's ship and at their head was Andrew clubfoot.

But by the reckoning of most men there were in all eight or nine hundred of the Northmen on land. Nigh two hundred men were up on the hillock with Ogmund, but the other force stood down on the shingle. Then the Scottish host began to draw near, and it was a very great host. It was the reckoning of some men that they numbered five hundred knights; but some called them something less. That force was very well equipped, with mail-clad horses, and many Spanish steeds all covered with armour. The Scots had a great host of footmen, but that force was badly equipped as to weapons. They most of them had bows and Irish bills. The Northmen who were on the hillock dropped down towards the sea, so that the Scots should not hem them in. Then Andrew Nicholas' son came up on the hill, and asked Ogmund [crow-dance] if he did not think it wiser to go down to the shingle to the force that was there; and that advice was taken.

Andrew bade his men to go down, but not to hurry like runaways. Then the Scots came on fast, and pelted them with stones. Then a great shower of weapons fell upon the Northmen. But they fell back facing the enemy and shielded themselves. But when the Northmen came as far as the brow of the descent which went down from the hillock then each tried to be faster than the others. And when those who were down below on the shingle saw that, they thought that the Northmen wanted to flee. The Northmen ran to the boats, and in that way some of them put off from the land and came out to the ships. But most of the boats sunk, and then some men were lost. Many Northmen ran under the lee of the bark and some got up into her. When the Northmen came down from the hillock into the dell between it and the shingle, then most of them took to running. But some one called out to them to turn back. Then some men turned back, but still few. There fell one of the king's bodyguard Hacon of Stein. Then the Northmen still ran away. But when they got down on the shingle it was again called to them to turn back. Then again some of them turned back, but not many. That was south on the shingle beyond the long-ship which had drifted on shore. There two of the Northmen fell. Those who had turned back had then nothing left for it than to keep on the defensive, and so they fell back until they came north round the long-ship. Then they found there some force of the Northmen, and they all shared in the fight together. These were the leaders there - Ogmund crow-dance, Andrew Nicholas's son, Thorlaug the hot, and Paul sour. Then there was a hard battle, but still a very unequal one, for there must have been ten Scots to one Northman. There fell a young man of the Scots; his name was Perus; he was come of the best stocks, and was the son of a powerful knight, and rode more boldly than any other knight. There fell men on both sides, but more of the Scots . . .

 When the day was wearing away the Northmen made an onslaught on the Scots up on the hillock and there fell on them most boldly. As is said in the Raven's Song:

The chosen barons of the king, Chief justice of North-Mæren folk, With war-songs hailed their sturdy foes, What time the hill at Largs they scaled; The valiant henchmen of the king, Who keeps his throne in awful state, Marched iron-hooded, cased in steel, Against the foe in sword-stirred fray. Brown brand bit the rebels sharply, At the mail-moot on the hill; Up the 'How' the red shields mounted, Till their bearers reached the top, Then the Scottish brand-gale cloudmen [shielded warriors] Took to flight with terror stricken Turned their heels those doughty soldiers From the champions of the king.

Then the Scots fled away from the hillock as fast as each man could to the fells. But when the Northmen saw that they went to the boats and rowed out to the ships and got off with difficulty for the storm."