Shaun-Mor

The islanders believe firmly in the existence of fairies who live in
the caves by the sea—little men about the height of a sod of turf, who
come out of the fissures of the rocks and are bright and merry, wearing
green jackets and red caps, and ready enough to help any one they like,
though often very malicious if offended or insulted.

There was an old man on the island called Shaun-Mor, who said that he
had often travelled at night with the little men and carried their
sacks for them; and in return they gave him strange fairy gifts and
taught him the secret of power, so that he could always triumph over
his enemies; and even as to the fairies, he was as wise as any of them,
and could fight half a dozen of them together if he were so minded, and
pitch them into the sea or strangle them with seaweed. So the fairies
were angered at his pride and presumption, and determined to do him a
malicious turn, just to amuse themselves when they were up for fun. So
one night when he was returning home, he suddenly saw a great river
between him and his house.

“How shall I get across now?” he cried aloud; and immediately an eagle
came up to him.

“Don’t cry, Shaun-Mor,” said the eagle, “but get on my back and I’ll
carry you safely.”

So Shaun-Mor mounted, and they flew right up ever so high, till at last
the eagle tumbled him off by the side of a great mountain in a place he
had never seen before.

“This is a bad trick you have played me,” said Shaun; “tell me where I
am now?”

“You are in the moon,” said the eagle, “and get down the best way you
can, for now I must be off; so good-bye. Mind you don’t fall off the
edge. Good-bye,” and with that the eagle disappeared.

Just then a cleft in the rock opened, and out came a man as pale as the
dead with a reaping-hook in his hand.

“What brings you here?” said he. “Only the dead come here,” and he
looked fixedly at Shaun-Mor so that he trembled like one already dying.

“O your worship,” he said, “I live far from here. Tell me how I am to
get down, and help me I beseech you.”

“Ay, that I will,” said the pale-faced man. “Here is the help I give
you,” and with that he gave him a blow with the reaping-hook which
tumbled Shaun right over the edge of the moon; and he fell and fell
ever so far till luckily he came in the midst of a flock of geese, and
the old gander that was leading stopped and eyed him.

“What are you doing here, Shaun-Mor?” said he, “for I know you well.
I’ve often seen you down in Shark. What will your wife say when she
hears of your being out so late at night, wandering about in this way.
It is very disreputable, and no well brought up gander would do the
like, much less a man; I am ashamed of you, Shaun-Mor.”

“O your honour,” said the poor man, “it is an evil turn of the evil
witches, for they have done all this; but let me just get up on your
back, and if your honour brings me safe to my own house I shall be for
ever grateful to every goose and gander in the world as long as I live.”

“Well then, get up on my back,” said the bird, fluttering its wings
with a great clatter over Shaun; but he couldn’t manage at all to get
on its back, so he caught hold of one leg, and he and the gander went
down and down till they came to the sea.

“Now let go,” said the gander, “and find your way home the best way you
can, for I have lost a great deal of time with you already, and must
be away;” and he shook off Shaun-Mor, who dropped plump down into the
sea, and when he was almost dead a great whale came sailing by, and
flapped him all over with its fins. He knew no more till he opened his
eyes lying on the grass in his own field by a great stone, and his wife
was standing over him drenching him with a great pail of water, and
flapping his face with her apron.

And then he told his wife the whole story, which he said was true as
gospel, but I don’t think she believed a word of it, though she was
afraid to let on the like to Shaun-Mor, who affirms to this day that it
was all the work of the fairies, though wicked people might laugh and
jeer and say he was drunk.