|
MUCH has been written of the Flood of ‘29 by
Sir Thomas Dick Lauder and others, but something of interest may
yet be added bearing on Abernethy. The Dell house stands near the
verge of a broad dale or haugh. To the south and east lies the
farm land, bounded by the Nethy. On the north is the garden, which
slopes towards a hollow, through which runs a tiny stream, fringed
with birch and alders, probably an old bed of the river. On the
night of Monday, the 3rd August, two boys, of the ages of seven
and four, my elder brother and myself, were sleeping in the
nursery, which was in the west wing of the house. It had rained
without ceasing for two days, and the gloom was terrible. Our
parents being from home, we were thrown upon the care of servants,
who did their best for us, telling us stories by the fireside and
lulling us to sleep with the sweet lilt of Crochailean. But our
rest was rudely broken. I have a vivid recollection of my nurse,
Kirsty Ross, coming in early in the morning, while it was yet
dark, catching me up and carrying me out in her arms, and the
strange sound of her feet plash, plashing in the water still lives
in my ears. The explanation was that the Nethy, driven across by
the Dorback, had broken the bulwarks below Tomghobhainn, and swept
down in great force through the fields, not only filling the
hollow to the west of the house, but flooding the lower apartments
to the depth of about a foot. The maid servants had been sitting
up all night in fear and trembling, and when the water burst in
they had hastened to take us children from the nursery to the main
house, which stood on a higher level. Another memory is very
clear. When we had been dressed and fed, with the light hearts of
childhood we began to amuse ourselves with the waters. Standing on
the step at the parlour door, we caught at the sticks and bits of
wood that came floating about in the passage that led to the lower
wing, piling them up like logs, or building them into liliputian
rafts. We said we were playing at floating.
When the waters had subsided, we
were taken to the kitchen, and were much surprised to see two or
three English sheep in the back corner. Sween Robertson, one of
the farm servants, had found them taking refuge on a hillock
amidst the waste of waters, and with much difficulty had succeeded
in bringing them to a place of safety. Later still, my nurse
carried me out into the garden, and shewed me the dark muddy
stream rushing past in the hollow, fearful to look at, and the
cuts and gashes made in the walks and the ruin wrought in the
plots by the cruel flood. As I have mentioned, our father and
mother were from home. They had gone to the Dell of Rothiemurchus
to visit our grandfather, Mr Mackintosh. The following account is
taken from a note-book of my father’s, and is of special value, as
written at the time by an eye-witness
"For three days rain had fallen without
intermission. The rivers rose rapidly. On Tuesday, 4th August, the
Druie broke out and overflowed the lands round the Dell, even
threatening the house. We were exceedingly anxious about our own
home, and home concerns, and left early in the morning in our gig.
We found the road at Pytoulish partially covered, and the stream,
strange to say, running from the Spey into the Loch,
instead of, as usual, from the Loch into the Spey. This shewed the
enormous rise of the Spey. The bridge at Croftrnore was also
covered, and the Kirk of Kincairn surrounded by water. The sweep
of the river past Kinchirdy was magnificent. What was usually
still, deep water, was now turned into mighty surges, rolling on
in awful majesty; and the roar was terrible. When we came to the
Mains of Garten we were astonished to see the meadows one sheet of
water, the houses of Caolachie surrounded, and the public road
submerged. Further progress seemed impossible; but we got the help
of two lads, who went before us on horseback, and piloted us round
by the old road above Croftronan. One of them, Sandy Gow (Smith),
had a narrow escape. His horse stumbled into a hole made by a
cross current, and, between the rush of the water and the
struggles of the horse, he was like to be smored. We found the
road at Tomchrocher overflowed, and the view from one of the
heights was very impressive; Spey had been converted into an
immense lake stretching from Boat of Garten to Inverallan, skirted
on the one side by Tullochgorm and Curr, and on the other by
Birchfield and the Culriachs, while here and there Tombae,
Broomhill, and Coulnakyle stood out as islands in the midst of the
waters. When we arrived at Bridge of Duack, about 8.30 A.M., we
observed a cottage, that of Alex. Mitchell, tailor, a little above
Nethy-Bridge, swept off. This was a sample of the destruction
going on. The road between the two bridges was flooded, but,
guided by our brave lads, we got safely through. When we turned in
the direction of the Dell, our difficulties increased. The Nethy
was fast cutting into the land, and the air was dank and heavy
with the smell of earth from the falling banks. Hardly had we
climbed the hill at old Bridge End, when the very road over which
we had passed was swept away, and we shuddered at what might have
been our fate. The saw-mill at Straan-beg had been carried off a
little earlier. The Nethy, forsaking its old course by the foot of
Balnagoun, had made a new and straighter channel, carrying off the
mill. Down it sailed for some distance, quite entire—a wonderful
sight—and then, coming into contact with a bulwark, it was dashed
to pieces. The state of things was becoming more and more
terrible. People were to be seen in all directions, some looking
on mournfully dejected, nay, even stupified; others helping
neighbours or busy removing their effects to places of safety.
Only one house had as yet fallen, but others were in danger. The
Nethy having cut through the land to the west of the bridge, and
gradually undermined the foundations, the west arch fell in about
10 o’clock with a great crash. It was hoped that, the water having
thus got freer scope, the cottages on the Coulnakyle side might be
saved; but a clump of alders below the bridge threw a strong
current to the east side, and three poor cottars had their
dwelling-houses, and much of their belongings, swept away. This
happened between 11 A.M. and 4 P.M. The work of destruction had
now been going on for hours. The bonnie banks of Nethy were broken
up, and the little haughs, with gardens and cornfields lying here
and there, had been laid waste. The mischief was not limited to
the lower districts, as the vast quantity of all sorts of property
seen floating down the stream plainly shewed. Nethy was at her
greatest height about 10 A.M. of Tuesday. The river was noticed to
rise and fall more than once in the course of the morning. This
was probably owing to outbursts of rain on the hills, and the
alternations caused by the shorter run of the Dorback. At times
there were terrible thunderings and appalling noises in the
mountains, as if some convulsion of nature were impending. Though
much land and property were destroyed, providentially no lives
were lost. At the same time, the shock and trouble of these dark
days were hurtful to many, and injured their strength beyond
recovery."
Mr Forsyth goes on to tell of the depredations
of the Nethy and its tributaries, and also of the loss of timber
and the breaking down of banks and bulwarks; but this part of his
notes need not be quoted. He modestly refrains from telling how he
reached his home; but this has been done by the graphic pen of Sir
Thomas Dick Lauder:-
"Unable to proceed in the gig, Mr Forsyth
walked up the river-side, large masses of the bank tumbling every
now and then into the torrent. After getting near the corner of
his garden, where a rill two feet wide and two inches deep was
wont to run, he found his further progress arrested, and his home
surrounded by a broad and powerful current of so great a depth as
to be quite unfordable. He saw the back of his house about 60 or
70 yards from before him. In it were his children; and he had no
means of knowing what might be the extent of the operations of the
river beyond. A half-rotten paling, that had as yet resisted this
sudden foreign flood, appeared dipping from either bank into the
stream before him. What it might be in the middle he did not know,
for there it was already submerged. The hazard was tremendous;
but, goaded on by his anxiety, he took his determination. Poising
a long ladder on the quivering poles, he made a desperate
adventure. By God’s providence he achieved it, and found all safe
in the house, though the water was a foot deep in it."
Sir Thomas then explains how the breach in the
Nethy bulwarks had been made by the Dorback, and how the
newly-created river had played havoc with the turnips and other
crops of the Dell. He also describes Mr Forsyth’s mode of
embankment:-
"Three rows of strong piles are driven down,
sloping slightly to the river, and are left above the ground of
the height of the intended embankment. Two feet intervenes between
the rows of piles, as well as between the piles of each row, and
the piles of the different rows cover each other individually, as
rear rank men do those in the front rank. Young fir trees, with
all their branches on, are then laid diagonally across between the
piles; but differing from Colonel Mackintosh of Fan’s plan so far,
that instead of the points of the brush being turned down the
stream, they are hid so as to oppose it, by which means they
arrest the sand and mud brought down by the river, and each
successive stratum of them is covered by it in its turn. Six
inches of gravel is laid over each layer of brush, between the
piles, and whole fir tree logs are placed along between the rows
over the gravel. These layers are repeated till the work is of
sufficient solidity to the mass, which speedily assumes all the
appearance of a natural bank. I saw this embankment, which in a
few days excluded the water, and perfectly withstood the appendix
flood of the 27th August"
The sufferings and losses caused by the
Morayshire floods excited much sympathy, and a committee was
formed at Elgin, with Mr Isaac Forsyth as convener, to raise funds
for the relief of the poorest class of sufferers. Reports were
obtained from the nineteen parishes in the county, and aid granted
according to the exigencies of the particular cases. The sum of
£67 was allocated to Abernethy, which was divided among the
following persons:—1st Class—Lewis Grant (aged 47); John Grant
(67); May Glass (62); Elizabeth Grant (62); Roderick Mackenzie
(47); Alex. Mitchell (32); Wm. Reid (45); Ann Grant McEwan. 2nd
Class (crofters)—Duncan Murray (50); Alex. Riach (80); James Riach
(60); James Macdonald (70). |
|
|
