Loch Scresort, about one and a half miles deep, is the island’s one decent anchorage, and being exposed only to easterly winds, would suit us very well. So we laid a course on the headland that guards the northern entrance. But as we brought this on our beam, the island of Eigg beckoned more strongly than ever, for we were going well and Rum was at least protecting us from the westerly swell. As we opened out Loch Scresort we saw the walls of dwellings, far in the shelter of the inlet, that had obviously never been designed by or for crofters. I experienced a strong desire to go in and land there, but as we had had a fairly rough fortnight on board our small craft, we thought it might be wiser first of all to keep our appointment in Eigg, which might then be used as headquarters for foraging expeditions to islands round about, should the weather behave itself at all.

And it was undoubtedly clearing up. The Scuir of Eigg, that remarkable formation of hard pitchstone, had its elevated backbone so clearly cut against the blue that one could see all its knobbly joints. The massive clouds had lifted a little off the Cuillin and the western peaks were just clear. Soay Island could be made out, but the fierce gusts for which Loch Scavaig, behind it, is notorious reconciled us to a postponed visit. For the time being we did not want anything worse than we had experienced at Portnalong! There is a good natural harbour in Soay itself, and we still had it, as it were, under our lee bow. And some good history of the eviction times, as can be gathered from the evidence led before the Royal Commission in 1883. If I may be permitted to quote once on this subject, I should like to give the reply to the Chairman of that Commission by a cottar and boatman, not so much for its economic as for what one may be allowed to call its Imperial aspect: ‘My great grandfather served with the army. My grandfather was forced to go to the army, and his bones are bleaching in a West India island. My father was in the militia; my brother was in Her Majesty’s navy till the time of his death, and now the grandson of my grandfather is on a rocky island that is not fit to be inhabited. In Soa we pay £3 of rent. At first the agreement was that we were to have four milk goats, a cow, and ten sheep. The farmer by degrees reduced the number of our cows. He did not reduce the rent a farthing. There are twenty-three families on the island. The crofts are on bogs and rocks. When you put your foot on some parts the ground shifts so much that you would think you were standing at the foot of Mount Etna.’

Soay had been uninhabited until these families had been compulsorily removed to it from good holdings in Skye. And the evidence of the next witness, described as ‘cottar and fisherman’, also suggests Imperial travel or travail: ‘My present house is built on the sea-shore, and the tide rises to it every stormy night that comes. I have to watch and put out all my furniture, such as it is. A sister of mine was employed last winter putting out the furniture, and she was sickly and died in consequence. I tried, by carrying some peat soil on my back, to make a bit of land, but it defied me. The ground is so soft about me that I had to pave a way with stones for my cow to get to the hill. I never saw a place in Scotland, Ireland, or France so bad for man to live in.’