LAMMAS FLOODS
When I got to Cruden it was quite dark. I had lingered by the way
thinking of Gormala MacNiel and all the queer kind of mystery in which
she seemed to be enmeshing me. The more I thought, the more I was
puzzled; for the strangest thing of all to me was that I understood
part of what seemed to be a mystery. For instance I was but imperfectly
acquainted with the Seer-woman's view of what was to be the result of
her watching of Lauchlane Macleod. I knew of course from her words at
our first conversation that in him she recognised a man doomed to near
death according to the manifestation of her own power of Second Sight;
but I knew what she did not seem to, that this was indeed a golden
man. From the momentary glimpse which I had had in that queer spell of
trance, or whatever it was which had come to me on the pier head, I had
seemed to _know_ him as a man of gold, sterling throughout. It was not
merely that his hair was red gold and that his eyes might fairly be
called golden, but his whole being could only be expressed in that way;
so that when Gormala spoke, the old rhyme seemed at once a prime factor
in the group of three powers which had to be united before the fathoming
of the Mystery of the Sea. I accordingly made up my mind to speak with
the Seer-woman and to ask her to explain. My own intellectual attitude
to the matter interested me. I was not sceptical, I did not believe;
but I think my mind hung in poise. Certainly my sympathies tended
towards the mysterious side, backed up by some kind of understanding of
the inner nature of things which was emotional or unintentional rather
than fixed.
All that night I seemed to dream, my mind working eternally round the
data of the day; hundreds of different relationships between Gormala,
Lauchlane Macleod, Lammas-tide, the moon and the secrets of the sea
revolved before me. It was grey morning before I fell asleep to the
occasional chirping of the earliest birds.
As sometimes happens after a night of uneasy dreaming of some disturbing
topic, the reaction of the morning carried oblivion with it. It was well
into the afternoon when all at once I remembered the existence of the
witch-woman--for as such I was beginning to think of Gormala. The
thought came accompanied by a sense of oppression which was not of fear,
but which was certainly of uneasiness. Was it possible that the woman
had in some way, or to some degree, hypnotised me. I remembered with a
slightly nervous feeling how the evening before I had stopped on the
roadway obedient to her will, and how I had lost the identity of my
surroundings in her presence. A sudden idea struck me; I went to the
window and looked out. For an instant my heart seemed to be still.
Just opposite the house stood Gormala, motionless. I went out at once
and joined her, and instinctively we turned our steps toward the
sand-hills. As we walked along I said to her:
"Where did you disappear to last night?"
"About that which is to be done!" Her lips and her face were set; I
knew it was no use following up that branch of the subject, so I asked
again:
"What did you mean by those verses which you told me?" Her answer was
given in a solemn tone:
"Them that made them alone can tell; until the time shall come!"
"Who made them?"
"Nane can now tell. They are as aud as the rocky foundations o' the
isles themselves."
"Then how did you come to know them?" There was a distinct note of pride
in her answer. Such a note as might be expected from a prince speaking
of his ancestry:
"They hae come doon to me through centuries. Frae mither to dochter, and
from mither to dochter again, wi' never a break in the lang line o' the
tellin'. Know ye, young master, that I am o' a race o' Seers. I take
my name from that Gormala o' Uist who through long years foresaw the
passing o' mony a one. That Gormala who throughout the islands of the
west was known and feared o' all men; that Gormala whose mither's
mither, and mither's mither again, away back into the darkness o' time
when coracles crept towards the sunset ower the sea and returned not,
held the fates o' men and women in their han's and ruled the Mysteries
o' the Sea." As it was evident that Gormala must have in her own mind
some kind of meaning of the prophecy, or spell, or whatever it was, I
asked her again:
"But you must understand something of the meaning, or you would not
attach so much importance to it?"
"I ken naught but what is seen to ma een, and to that inner e'e which
telleth tae the soul that which it seeth!"
"Then why did you warn me that Lammas-tide was near at hand?" The grim
woman actually smiled as she replied:
"Did ye no hearken to the words spoken of the Lammas floods, which be of
the Powers that rule the Spell?"
"Well, the fact is that I don't know anything of 'Lammas-tide!' We do
not keep it in the Church of England," I added as an afterthought,
explanatory of my ignorance. Gormala was clever enough to take advantage
of having caught me in a weak place; so she took advantage of it to turn
the conversation into the way she wished herself:
"What saw ye, when Lauchlane Macleod grew sma' in yer een, and girt
again?"
"Simply, that he seemed to be all at once a tiny image of himself, seen
against a waste of ripe corn." Then it struck me that I had not as yet
told her or any one else of what I had seen. How then did she know it? I
was annoyed and asked her. She answered scornfully:
"How kent I it, an' me a Seer o' a race o' Seers! Are ma wakin' een then
so dim or so sma' that I canna read the thochts o' men in the glances o'
their een. Did I no see yer een look near an' far as quick as thocht?
But what saw ye after, when ye looked rapt and yer een peered side to
side, as though at one lyin' prone?" I was more annoyed than ever and
answered her in a sort of stupor:
"I saw him lying dead on a rock, with a swift tide running by; and over
the waters the broken track of a golden moon." She made a sound which
was almost a cry, and which recalled me to myself as I looked at her.
She was ablaze. She towered to her full height with an imperious,
exultant mien; the light in her eyes was more than human as she said:
"Dead, as I masel' saw him an' 'mid the foam o' the tide race! An' gowd,
always gowd ahint him in the een of this greater Seer. Gowden corn, and
gowden moon, and gowden sea! Aye! an' I see it now, backie-bird that I
hae been; the gowden mon indeed, wi' his gowden een an' his gowden hair
and all the truth o' his gowden life!" Then turning to me she said
fiercely:
"Why did I warn ye that Lammas-tide was near? Go ask those that value
the months and days thereof, when be Lammas and what it means to them
that hae faith. See what they are; learn o' the comin' o' the moon and
o' the flowin' o' the tides that follow!"
Without another word she turned and left me.
I went back to the hotel at once, determined to post myself as to
Lammas-tide; its facts and constitutions, and the beliefs and traditions
that hung around it. Also to learn the hours of the tides, and the age
of the moon about the time of Lammas-tide. Doubtless I could have found
out all I wanted from some of the ministers of the various houses of
religion which hold in Cruden; but I was not wishful to make public,
even so far, the mystery which was closing around me. My feeling was
partly a saving sense of humour, or the fear of ridicule, and partly a
genuine repugnance to enter upon the subject with any one who might not
take it as seriously as I could wish. From which latter I gather that
the whole affair was becoming woven into the structure of my life.
Possibly it was, that some trait, or tendency, or power which was
individual to me was beginning to manifest itself and to find its means
of expression. In my secret heart I not only believed but knew that some
instinct within me was guiding my thoughts in some strange way. The
sense of occult power which is so vital a part of divination was growing
within me and asserting its masterdom, and with it came an equally
forceful desire of secrecy. The Seer in me, latent so long, was becoming
conscious of his strength, and jealous of it.
At this time, as the feeling of strength and consciousness grew, it
seemed to lose something of its power from this very cause. Gradually it
was forced upon me that for the full manifestation of such faculty as
I might possess, some kind of abstraction or surrender of self was
necessary. Even a few hours of experience had taught me much; for now
that my mind was bent on the phenomena of Second Sight the whole living
and moving world around me became a veritable diorama of possibilities.
Within two days from the episode at the Pier head I had had behind me a
larger experience of effort of occult force than generally comes to a
man in a lifetime. When I look back, it seems to me that all the forces
of life and nature became exposed to my view. A thousand things which
hitherto I had accepted in simple faith as facts, were pregnant with
new meanings. I began to understand that the whole earth and sea,
and air--all that of which human beings generally ordinarily take
cognisance, is but a film or crust which hides the deeper moving powers
or forces. With this insight I began to understand the grand guesses of
the Pantheists, pagan and christian alike, who out of their spiritual
and nervous and intellectual sensitiveness began to realise that there
was somewhere a purposeful cause of universal action. An action which in
its special or concrete working appeared like the sentience of nature in
general, and of the myriad items of its cosmogony.
I soon learned that Lammas day is the first of August and is so often
accompanied by heavy weather that Lammas floods are almost annually
recurrent. The eve of the day is more or less connected with various
superstitions.
This made me more eager for further information, and by the aid of a
chance friend, I unearthed at Aberdeen a learned professor who gave me
offhand all the information which I desired. In fact he was so full of
astronomical learning that I had to stop him now and again in order to
elucidate some point easily explainable to those who understood his
terminology, but which wrapped my swaddling knowledge in a mystery all
its own. I have a sneaking friendliness even now for anyone to whom the
word 'syzygy' carries no special meaning.
I got at the bases of facts, however, and understood that on the night
of July 31, which was the eve of Lammas-tide, the moon would be full at
midnight. I learned also that from certain astronomical reasons the tide
which would ostensibly begin its flow a little after midnight would in
reality commence just on the stroke. As these were the points which
concerned me I came away with a new feeling of awe upon me. It seemed
as though the heavens as well as the earth were bending towards the
realisation or fulfillment of the old prophecy. At this time my own
connection with the mystery, or how it might affect me personally, did
not even enter my head. I was content to be an obedient item in the
general scheme of things.
It was now the 28th July so, if it were to take place at the Lammas-tide
of the current year, we should know soon the full measure of the
denouêment. There was but one thing wanting to complete the conditions
of the prophecy. The weather had been abnormally dry, and there might
after all be no Lammas floods. To-day, however, the sky had been heavily
overcast. Great black clouds which seemed to roll along tumbling over
and over, as the sail of a foundered boat does in a current, loomed up
from the west. The air grew closer, and to breathe was an effort. A sort
of shiver came over the wide stretch of open country. Darker and darker
grew the sky, till it seemed so like night that the birds in the few
low-lying coppices and the scanty hedgerows ceased to sing. The bleat of
sheep and the low of cattle seemed to boom through the still air with a
hollow sound, as if coming from a distance. The intolerable stillness
which precedes the storm became so oppressive that I, who am abnormally
susceptible to the moods of nature, could almost have screamed out.
Then all at once the storm broke. There was a flash of lightning so
vivid that it lit up the whole country away to the mountains which
encircle Braemar. The fierce crash and wide roll of the thunder followed
with incredible quickness. And then the hot, heavy-dropped summer rain
fell in torrents.
All that afternoon the rain fell, with only a few brief intervals of
glowing sunshine. All night, too, it seemed to fall without ceasing,
for whenever I woke--which I did frequently with a sense over me of
something impending--I could hear the quick, heavy patter on the roof,
and the rush and gurgle of the overcharged gutters.
The next day was one of unmitigated gloom. The rain poured down
ceaselessly. There was little wind, just sufficient to roll
north-eastwards the great masses of rain-laden clouds piled up by the
Gulf Stream against the rugged mountains of the western coast and its
rocky islands. Two whole days there were of such rain, and then there
was no doubt as to the strength of the Lammas floods this year. All the
wide uplands of Buchan were glistening with runnels of water whenever
the occasional glimpses of sunshine struck them. Both the Water of
Cruden and the Back Burn were running bank high. On all sides it was
reported that the Lammas floods were the greatest that had been known in
memory.
All this time my own spiritual and intellectual uneasiness was
perpetually growing. The data for the working of the prophecy were all
fixed with remarkable exactness. In theatrical parlance 'the stage was
set' and all ready for the action which was to come. As the hours wore
on, my uneasiness changed somewhat and apprehension became merged in a
curious mixture of superstition and exaltation. I was growing eager to
the coming time.
The afternoon of July 31 was fine. The sun shone brightly; the air was
dry and, for the time of year, cool. It seemed as though the spell of
wet weather was over and that fiery August was coming to its own again.
The effects of the rainstorm were, however, manifest. Not only was every
rill and stream and river in the North in spate but the bogs of the
mountains were so saturated with wet that many days must elapse before
they could cease to send their quota to swell the streams. The mountain
valleys were generally lakes in miniature. As one went through the
country the murmur or rush of falling water was forever in the ears. I
suppose it was in my own case partly because I was concerned in the mere
existence of Lammas floods that the whole of nature seemed so insistent
on the subject. The sound of moving water in its myriad gamut was so
perpetually in my ears that I could never get my mind away from it. I
had a long walk that afternoon through roads still too wet and heavy for
bicycling. I came back to dinner thoroughly tired out, and went to bed
early.