‘Minister’s House, St Kilda, August 12, 1900
MY DEAR Friend, all hail to you from my heart! Upon opening the little box that contained the books you sent to me, I found a letter at the top, and upon opening it I felt like a little bird when it warbles from a crest of the rocks, so greatly pleased was I by the valuable gifts that you sent to the St Kilda Library.
After looking into these books, I feel satisfied that there is not one Highlander or Lowlander who may read them without finding that his heart is drawn to them in a kindly way.
When I see Fergusson [ Neil, 1876-1944, postmaster and ground officer] I shall tell him that you send a blessing to him, and he will value it like an inheritance from the Earl of Breadalbane!
I am very sorry that my house is so small, but with the help from my friends I am in the hope that it will be enlarged. Now, after the alteration takes place, come you upon a visit, and you will find right hearty hospitality.
Salutations to you and my countrymen and countrywomen who are endeavouring to spread pleasant and impressive stories that bear further wisdom and knowledge to the people in the north of Scotland and to the Gael of the Islands.
The flies [midges] are dirking me and so I must leave off writing more in this letter. My blessing to you for your kindness, man of my heart. Long may smoke arise from your house! Farewell until I hear from you. The harbour-works here are progressing well. When finished there will be a safe harbour for those who visit the island.
Again farewell! Good wishes alike for the days when we will see and not see each other. From your friend, Angus Fiddes, Minister of St Kilda.
For all his cheerfulness, or perhaps because of it, Mr Fiddes was more or less forced out of St Kilda despite the great life-saving work he did to eradicate infant tetanus which had been the cause of death among the community for generations. His story is well told in Roger Hutchinson’s book, St Kilda – A people’s History, published by Birlinn.
Immediately before the evacuation, the able-bodied men of St Kilda were offered jobs by the Forestry Commission once they had settled in their new home. Most of them went to work bare-footed whenever possible unless they were using tools for digging ditches.
They were strong, hardworking and walked very fast. They had an excellent sense of direction and would always arrive exactly where they wanted to be even in thick mist. Sometimes they would be put into different squads on the same hillside, but a few miles apart. They still managed to keep in touch with each other throughout the day by semaphore, a technique they had acquired and remembered from Royal Navy staff on Hirta when the Admiralty established a signalling station there during the First World War.
One of their first tasks was to plant trees as high up as possible on Aoinneadh Mor – a basalt ridge rising sharply to 1,500 ft above Loch Dire nam Mart, reputed to be one of the finest examples of active soil erosion in Scotland. None of the local forestry workers cared to go near the place saying that it was too dangerous, but the St Kildans, renowned for their cragsmanship on some of the highest sea- cliffs in Europe, just laughed and said the Aoinneadh Mor rocks were only ‘little hills’ by comparison.
As well as receiving a weekly wage from the Forestry Commission, the seven St Kilda households, also had a gift of £25 each from a charity known as the Kelsall Bequest to help them buy hens and coops.
In addition they were given the residue of another trust set up by the Austrian Government in recognition of their great kindness to the survivors of an Austrian ship wrecked off St Kilda in 1876.