The Enchanted Bay is a fascinating anthology of Irish folklore tales collected by revolutionary leader Ernie O’Malley, focused on his native Clew Bay and including other parts of Ireland he travelled to while working as an IRA organiser. Transcribed by his son Cormac and featuring photographs by his wife, American artist Helen Hooker O’Malley, this book captures a bygone era and showcases the enduring power of the oral tradition in Ireland.

Here we publish extracts from the book which will be launched on Saturday October 5 at 12pm in the Cultúrlann, Belfast.

The Stick That Beat a French Sword in 1798

After the time the French had landed at Killala and invaded Ballina in August 1798, they swept down in to Castlebar where they routed the British troops. The French regrouped in Castlebar and stayed there a while. At that time there was an old man, named Quinn, living in Breaghwy out the road from Castlebar. His son-in-law, who wasn’t long married, had a fine young mare. One day he went to Castlebar with a bag of oats on the horse to sell. As he was coming in to the centre of town, one of the French officers came up to him and demanded the mare off him. The young man felt he was obliged to give up his mare to him. When he walked home without the mare and told the story, his father-in-law became excited and got into an awful bad temper at the idea of the mare being taken from his son-in-law.

‘How will we get on without the mare or how are we going to live at all?’ he asks the son-in-law. ‘We might as well clear out of here for we have no business in it. In my day,’ he says, ‘I’d die before I’d let the mare go. As soon as the sun rises in the morning, you’ll have to find the mare and bring her home or you’ll not rest here anymore.’

On the next morning, the son-in-law told the ould man that he wouldn’t go into Castlebar after the mare. Ould man Quinn was furious with him and decided to go in to Castlebar by himself with just his blackthorn stick, which he knew how to use well as a shillelagh. When he got to town, he approached one of the French officers and demanded his mare back. The officer only mocked him, and that made the ould man even more angry. He says, ‘I’m going to get back my mare at all costs.’

‘Well,’ says the officer, ‘are you willing to fight for her?’ ‘There isn’t a good man that wouldn’t fight with a stick for his mare,’ says the ould man. ‘Well,’ says the officer, ‘remember if you do fight, you’re going to lose your life.’ ‘I’m as well to lose me life as lose me mare,’ he replies. 

The officer ordered one of his men to mount on horseback with his sword and be ready to fight the ould man standing there all alone on the street with only his blackthorn stick. 
‘Are you ready now?’ asks the officer. ‘I’m ready,’ says the man. ‘Let him come on.’ 

The French officer rode towards the ould man at full speed, making a fair wind brandishing his sword as he came. The ould man ducked avoiding the sword but swung his blackthorn stick catching the rider on the back of his head killing him instantly with the one blow.

The senior officer said the man was well entitled to his horse and gave him back his mare and off home he went with it.

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An Féar Gorta on the Roads

On occasion a sudden attack of an féar gorta can occur and can be a surprise to a man when travelling along parts of mountains or rural roads. When a man goes through these places, he’d be attacked by such a kind of weakness or hunger, and he’s often unable to walk any further. The cure then is for him to eat any sort of food. He could even chance to chew on a piece of a whang or leather or leather shoelace from his shoe or chew a bit of a certain kind of grass or heather.

Once this man was visiting in a house in Carrowmore and a man, by the name of Mick Ward, who was there, told the man that on his way home one time, he was overcome by an féar gorta on the Leenaun Road, and he had to sit down. Luckily for him, he was able to get a bit of heather that was growing on the side of the road. He picked it, chewed on it, and he was able to get up again and continue on as he was all right again. It seems it leaves no evil effects at all after it.

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The Fenian Who Changed His Name

There was a Fenian brother, Pat McNicholas, from around Louisburgh who belonged to the organisation, and he had a pike and he hid the pike in the eave of the house. It appears that someone gave information to the police about him having a pike. The constables raided the house and after searching high and low, they found the pike. They arrested poor McNicholas and brought him to Louisburgh, where he was sentenced to be shot. 

It appears McNicholas had some dealings with the minister in Westport, named Reverend Nicholson. He had sold the minister a mare or something, and they became acquainted. When the minister heard of the sentence, he went to work to try to get a reprieve. He got the reprieve and then as soon as he got it, he took his horse and galloped out from Westport to Louisburgh. McNicholas had been sentenced and was on his knees, and the shooting was ready to take place. The minister came in galloping up the street, and he was flaunting a paper in his hands. The military stood and looked, and as he jumped off his horse, he said, ‘This man is reprieved.’ The minister showed the reprieve to the man, and he got up and went on his way as his life had been spared. 

The military were frustrated in not getting to shoot the man. They were hard out for blood, and they headed back to their station. As they went back up the street, they noticed a young man coming in over the bridge with a bag of oats to sell. Garvey was his name, and he was from Furmoyle near the bridge at Carrowniskey, up the mountain there. The military got a hold of Garvey, pulled him from his mare, and riddled him with bullets, shot him dead, when they were foiled from the other shooting.

Published by Merrion Press, The Enchanted Bay is priced £19.99.

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