Púcaí Thalamh an Éisc
Collected from Seán Breathnach, Cill Maoilchéadair, Co. Chiarraí, 1938. Preserved through the National Folklore Collection, UCD.
“Théadh a lán daoine bochta ón ndúthaigh seo fadó go Talamh an Éisc, nuair ná bíodh aon job eile oibre acu, ná aon phá ná aon ní acu á d’fháilt. Bhídís ag gabháilt d’iascach ann. Bhíodh báid bheaga acu. Triúr a bhíodh ins ngach aon bhád. Bhuel, ceann do na tráthnóintí bhí cuma glasaithe air, agus dúirt an fear a bhí orthu, an captaen, brostú leis an spiléar go raibh eagla air gurb am ina shéidfeadh sé - ní raibh aon dealramh cóir ag teacht ar an dtráthnóna. Bhí bád eile ag cur agus ní raibh sí sin ullamh in aon chor. Do rug sé uirthi sin agus do tharraiceadar seo an talamh gur éigean. Shéid sé. Cailleadh rud sin - an bád eile - beirt Chaitilicithe agus Sasanach ab ea iad. Nuair a theip an t-iascach ansin orthu seo - bhí an aimsir ró-gharbh dóibh do bhídís ag cur - cad é an ainm a thabharfaidh mé orthu sin arú! Do bhídís ag cur trapanna chun ainmhithe. D’fhanadh fear acu insa bhotháinín a bhí acu i gcónaí agus bhíodh an bia ullamh aige roimis an gcuid eile nuair a thagaidís tar éis a gcúram a bheith déanta acu.
“Raghadsa,” ar seisean, “agus cuirfdh mé mo thrapanna féin im’ chóngar,” arsa an fear a dh’fhan istigh acu, “agus b’fhéidir go mbeinn chomh maith chun cinn ar maidin libhse,” ar seisean, leis féinig.
D’imigh sé air agus tráthnóna sneachta ab ea é, agus nuair a bhí sé ag teacht tar éis a thrapanna bheith curtha aige do bhuail beirt fhear ‘na choinne agus duine acu agus maide aige agus é ag bualadh an tsneachta agus na toir roimis an bhfear eile amach. Do labhair sé leo agus do labhradar leis agus d’aithin sé iad. “Dheara! an sibh atá ansin?” Ar seisean.
“Is sinn,” ar siadsan.
“Conas atá agaibh?”
“Ní ceart dúinn gearán,” ar siadsan.
“An bhfuil aon chúntas ar an Sasanach agaibh?” ar seisean leothu.
“Ní fhacamar an Sasanach,” ar siadsan, “ó buaileadh an béal fén mbád.”
“Tá an seantáinín atá agaibh,” ar siadsan, “tá sé ag déanamh ana-dhíobhála dhúinn mar tá cúinne an fhalla ag teacht amach insa chosán orainn. Agus inis don mbeirt eile pártaí atá agat mar gheall air.”
D’imigh sé is nuair a chuaigh sé abhaile go dtí an tigh, éth! Bhí sé ag aistriú an falla isteach as a slí agus nuair a thánadar seo d’fhiafraíodar dó cad a bhí sé ag déanamh.
“A leithéid seo,” ar seisean, ach gur éigean a chreideadar é. “Dúradar liomsa,” ar seisean, “go gcífidís fhéin sibhse nó go gcífeadh sibhse iad chomh maith liomsa - liom fhéinig.
Ach an chéad eile ansin a chuadar thar n-ais do chonacadar fhéinig iad.
Do liathaigh sé in aon oíche amháin. Do chuadar isteach i dtír ceann do na laethanta ag triall ar lón dóibh fhéinig i gcóir na seachtaine, agus do shéid an lá orthu agus chaitheadar fosadh i dtír agus ní raibh éinne ina theannta ansin sa tseantán ach é féinig. Siar insan oíche d’aithnigh sé an solas ag gabháilt tharais an bhfalla, sé mar bheadh mionphoill bheaga insa bhfalla, agus cad a tháinig isteach an doras chuige ná ainmhí i bhfoirm muice, agus aon tsúil amháin i gclár éadain agus gan aon tsúil eile le feiscint ann. Thug sé fén dtinteán aníos agus thug sé fógra dhó faíreach síos uaidh. Ní raibh sé ag tabhairt aon toradh air. “Bhuel,” ar seisean, “scaoilfidh mé an gunna chughat, mura bhfanfaidh tú síos.
Bhí sé ag druidim leis aníos i gcónaí.
“Bhuel,” ar seisean, “tá piléar airgid agam,” ar seisean, “le cuir don ghunna,” ar seisean, “agus dá mba tú an diabhal fhéin,” ar seisean, “críochnóidh sé thu.”
Thug sé an oíche ag gabháilt dó go dtí go raibh sé ag déanamh ar timpeall ghlao an choiligh agus sin é an uair a bhailigh sé amach an doras uaidh. Ar maidin lá ‘rna mháireach ansin nuair a tháinig an lá air, ‘sé ceann tamaillín don mhaidin, bhí a bhalcaisí bailithe ar a dhrom aige is é chun tabhairt fé snámh trasna ar eagla ná tiocfaidís [na pártaithe] thar n-ais chuige - ná fanfadh sé ann aon oíche eile.
Ach nuair a tháinig na páirtithe bhí sé chomh liath le gabhar agus is ar éigean a d’aithníodar gurb é a bhí ann.”
“A lot of poor people went from this district long ago to Newfoundland, when there didn’t have any other jobs for work, nor any pay or having any means to get it. They would go for fishing there. They had little boats. Three people were in each and every boat. Well, one of the evenings there was a raw and chilly appearance on it, and the man in charge of them, the captain, said to hurry up with the trawl line because he was afraid that it would be time that it would blow - there wasn’t any proper appearance coming on the evening. Another boat was casting and that one wasn’t prepared at all. He bore upon it [his boat] and they rowed it to shore just barely. It blew. A thing was lost then, the other boat, two Catholics and an English person they were. When the fishing failed on these ones, the weather was too harsh for them, they were putting - what is the name I will give them alas! - They were putting traps for animals. One of them always stayed in the little cabin and he had the food prepared before the other ones would come back, having done their task.
“I will go,” he said, “and I will put my own traps about,” said the man that they had wait inside, “and maybe I will be as well-off by morning as yourselves,” he said to himself.
He departed and it was a snowy afternoon, and when he was coming back having placed his traps he met two men before him and one of them had a stick and he was beating the snow and the bushes out before the other man. He spoke with them and they spoke with him and he recognized them.
“Indeed! Is it you that is there?” he said.
“It is us,” they said.
“How are you?”
“We can’t complain,” they said.
“Do you have any account of the English person?” he said to them.
“We didn’t see the English person,” they said “since the prow went under the boat.”
“The little cabin that you have,” they said, “it is doing much harm to us because the corner of the wall is coming out into our trail. And tell the other two companions you have about it.”
He departed and when he went home to the house, eh, he was moving walls inside out of their path and when they came they asked him what he was doing.
“This,” he said, but they hardly believed it. “They said to me,” he said, “that they themselves would see you or that you yourselves would see them just as well as me - myself.”
But the next time then that they went back they themselves saw them.
He went grey in one single night. They went into the bush one of the days to try for food for the week, and the day blew on them and they stopped in the bush and there was no one in his company there in the cabin but himself. Late in the night he noticed the light going by the wall, it was as if there were tiny holes in the wall, and what came in the door towards him but an animal in the form of a pig, and one single eye in the middle of its forehead and without any other eye to be seen. He set about climbing the fireplace from below and he gave a hollar out down from him. It wasn’t paying him any heed. “Well,” he said, “I will shoot my gun at you, if you won’t stay down.
It was always coming closer to him from below.
“Well,” he said, “I have a silver bullet,” he said, “to put in my gun,” he said, “and if you are the devil himself,” he said, “it will finish you.”
It spent the night attempting to seize him until it was making on about the call of the rooster and that’s when it ran out through the door. The following morning when the day came upon it, that’s one little time in the morning, he had his clothes gathered on his back and he was trying to swim across for fear that they wouldn’t come [the companions] back to him - he wouldn’t wait there one other night.
But when the companions came he was as grey as a goat and they hardly recognized that it was him.”
Adapted from: “The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0446, Page 143” by Dúchas © National Folklore Collection, UCD is licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0.
