Mermaid on St Kilda

Cliffs off St Kilda. CC image by Mike Pennington.

 A poor Welch seaman, who was last summer cast away in a squall on the island of St Kilda, applied to a gentleman in Ayr last week for pecuniary aid to help him on to Carnarvon. He stated in consequence of the little intercourse which exists between the island and the mainland, he had been detained there till lately, and related a variety of circumstances as to the habits and opinions of the St Kildians, which removed all doubt as to the authenticity of his story.

A belief in the existence of mermaids, it seems, is universal among this little known people, and although the Welchman at first was extremely sceptical on the subject, he was finally converted by the convincing evidence of ocular demonstration.

To secure to himself the means of a precarious subsistence he was obliged to participate in the dangerous labours of the islanders, and one day while he hung suspended over one of those dreadful precipices, from which "The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so large as beetles" in search of feathers and birds' eggs, the staple produce of the island, his attention was drawn to the unruffled sea beneath by a strange unearthly sound, as if some monster of the deep were raising its voice in song, in mockery to the human race. At the same moment a native similarly engaged on the rocks near him, exclaimed, "The mermaid, the mermaid!" and the astonished Welchman descried on the surface of the magnificent waters a being resembling humanity; but yet so curious withal, as to start a doubt in his mind as to the reality of the vision.

The description which he gave our informant of its form and features, varied little from the accounts of other historians of veracity, who have had the luck to behold these ominous creatures. Under a very short forehead were two small round eyes, separated by a flat nose, and the cheeks, which were exceedingly broad, were split across by a mouth which nearly reached from ear to ear. The chin and neck were short, and altogether it presented that dumpy appearance which has been often assigned to the rustic maidens of the Welch mountains -- Ayr paper.

Caledonian Mercury, 19th December, 1825.