Ireland Newsletter July 2017

The legend of the Monster of Lough Ree has always been, but smart modern people said it could not be true, as the lake was not deep enough to hide a monster. Moreover, they said that those who claimed to have seen it were probably poitin makers who were under the influence or were trying to scare off the police or customs men.

The clever monster was not impressed so he presented himself to three sober clergymen of impeccable character in the 1950s. They described him as being a giant eel-like creature about two and a half feet thick and up to forty or fifty feet long. For the few minutes that they saw him he had his head and four bodily loops above the water. They thought he had a lump on his head and mouth and teeth like a pike. Controversy reigned for a time but the real story never came to light.

Another story about the monster dates from a hundred years before that. Two brothers from Knockcrockery, Mick and Pat, said they saw the monster late one night when they were passing by the lake, looking out toward Quaker Island. Locals ignored this sighting, as the brothers were well-known poitin makers and drinkers who plied their trade between the islands and all along the west side of the lake. However, two Englishmen heard about it and decided to investigate. Their names were Percival and Donald. Both of them were related to well-known, brave, worldwide explorers, and by virtue of their fear of any danger and inability to achieve much, they were somewhat despised by their families.

Percival and Donald decided to make their names by capturing the Lough Ree Monster. To this end, they contacted Mick and Pat and employed them as guides and advisers. Mick introduced them to his brother-in-law, Tom, and his wife, Mary, who had a house with a spare room where Percival and Donald could board for only 1 pound each per day. They were lucky to get lodgings so near the lake!

Pat advised them to go to his brother-in-law, Joe, the blacksmith, and get him to make a giant hook. At that time, the local forge was the only sort of leisure centre available to male layabouts, newsmongers, gabsters and nosy backbiters. There was always news and action there, and in order to keep the fair side of the blacksmith, those fellows would help with sledging, fitting iron tyres on cart wheels or helping with young horses. Mick advised the Englishmen that their adventure needed to be kept strictly secret and that nothing would remove the hangers-on from the forge, only free drink. Mick suggested to Percival that a 5 pound float for a free bar in the local shebeen (illegal pub) would empty the forge so that they and the blacksmith could get down to business. Percival complemented Mick on his shrewdness and paid the money. He did not know that the shebeen was owned by Pat's uncle.

Now, Joe, Percival, Donald, Pat and Mick got to work. The hook had to be designed and made properly. A six-foot-long crowbar an inch thick was selected. Joe heated it in the fire, two feet from one end, and he and Pat lifted it on to the anvil with big pincers. Then Joe beat it into a lovely hook. It was heating time again so that the point of the hook could be beaten and barbs cut out with a chisel and turned so that the hook would hold fast to the captured creature. This was then cooled and the other end heated white and beaten flat before a hole was punched in it, to hold a twenty-yard long chain.

Just about that time, another brother-in-law, Tim, had a litter of little piglets and Pat acquired one for bait on the giant hook. Pat only charged Percival a pound for the pig. The chain was anchored to a tree on land and the hook with the dead pig on it was brought out by boat seventeen yards and then dropped from the far side of the boat so that it hung nine feet down over the side. As they were afraid of the monster, they anchored the boat there and returned to land in another boat. Mick owned the boats but he only charged 1 pound per boat per day. The Englishmen were rich. They watched from the shore for several hours and when their patience wore out they went out and pulled up the hook. The pig was gone.

'Well, doesn't that beat Banagher,' said Mick.
'The bloody monster is as clever as a Christian. We will have to secure the bait better.'

They tried again the next day and this time they tied the pig on with a rope. It did no good and when they pulled up the hook there was nothing there but the rope. This went on every day, with more and better ropes used until all twelve of the litter of little pigs were gone. Every night Pat, Mick, and Tim procured expensive poitin for Percival and Donald, who drank themselves to sleep.

As they were eating their breakfast on the eleventh morning, Mary, who always had too much to say, asked:
'Are ye going to feed another pig to the pike today?'
The penny dropped with Donald.
'Is that what has been eating out bait? There must be no monster at all. We have been wasting our time. We will not go on the lake again. How much is our bill? We will be leaving today.'

'What sort of an �inseach [fool] are you woman?' said Tom.
'How could pike get near the bait, sure the monster would eat them too. You're talking nonsense like always.' But the damage was done. The Englishmen were onto the ruse. That's when Pat and Mick arrived. Tom, interrupted often by his wife, told of the morning's conversation.

'Well, isn't that the best ever you heard,' said Pat, 'but don't worry, we'll catch him yet. We need a bigger pig with several ordinary fish hooks inserted in him and then, every pike that bites him will get caught and make a better bait altogether for the monster.'

'I am not convinced,' said Percival. 'I have lost faith in you, your bait, your boats and the monster. In fact, I'm sceptical as to whether there ever was a monster.'
'Didn't you tell me that your brother climbed the highest mountain in Europe, Mattie's Horn?' asked Mick, 'and I bet he didn't give up just when he could see the top.'
'It's the Matterhorn,' said Percival with a condescending smile at the ignorant peasant. But he was stung by the suggestion that he was a quitter or that he was less than his brother, the mountaineer.
'I suppose we could give it one more go if you are agreeable, Donald, and if another pig is available.'
By sheer luck, another brother-in law had arrived from Gaily Bay with a bigger pig in an ass's cart. Not only that, in spite of his great size, he was prepared to sell him for just 2 pounds. Luck struck again when a stranger turned up with fifty special hooks to implant in the pig and he even had short lines to attach to the hooks and to the big hook.

'It looks as if fate is on our side this time,' said Donald. The stage was set for the final trap to catch the monster. The pig was killed. The hooks were inserted and the pig was tied to the big hook. All was loaded on to the boat. It was rowed out the seventeen yards. The pig, complete with big hook and fifty small hooks, was dropped over the side. Then all hell broke loose!

The chain became taut and was wrenched over the end of the boat nearly overturning it. The tree that the chain was anchored to shook as great pressure was put on it. Then everything went quiet. Tim and Tom who were on the shore pulled in the slack chain. There was nothing on the end of it and the big inch thick hook had been straightened out. Pat, Percival and Donald who had been in the first boat, were busy hiding their embarrassment at what the fright caused. Mick was in the other boat with a bottle on his head.

There was a monster after all.

Everybody but the English were surprised. Pat and Mick did much less boating on the lake thereafter, and Percival and Donald had the best fishy story of all time.

Pat Watson
pjwatson@utvinternet.com

Pat Watson is author of 'Roscommon Folk Tales' available from The History Press.

From the Freeman's Journal, March 15, 1816

PRIEST SHOOTS FOUR THIEVES
A few days since, a Roman Catholic clergyman in the county Cavan, was overtaken on his way home by a man on horseback, who entered into conversation with him, and, stating himself to be a stranger in that part of the country, requested he would direct him to some house in the village they were approaching, where he could be safely accommodated for the night.

When they came to the village, the priest pointed out a house to him, and rode on towards his own residence, some distance from the village. He had not gone far when he was again overtaken by the stranger, who told him he was afraid to stay in the house he had directed him to, as it was full of Orangemen; the priest told him he need be under no apprehension whatever, and advised him to go back, which he declined, saying, he would rather be on the road all night. The priest then told him, as his apprehensions would not let him return, he would give him a bed, and a place for his horse, at his own residence, to which the stranger assented: after taking some refreshment, they retired to their apartments.

The man servant of the clergyman having occasion to go into the stranger's bed-chamber before he had gone to bed, observed under his great coat a blunderbuss. On quitting the room, which he did instantly, he went to his master, and told him he did not like the appearance of his guest; that he was armed, and probably had bad intentions. His master, upon this statement, desired him not to go to bed, but to arm himself with a pitchford, and sit up in the kitchen; while he at the same time loaded a case of pistols, and sat up also reading, to beguile the time.

In the dead of night the priest's door was opened, and the man whom he had sheltered entered the room, presented the blunderbuss, and desired him to deliver his money, or he would shoot him; the clergyman requested he would put down the blunderbuss lest it might accidentally go off, and that he would show him what money he had; the priest then threw on the table a few tenpennies, saying that was all the money he had; on which the other replied, he knew he had plenty if money and that he came for the purpose of getting it, and that if he had not brought him to his house, he would that night have broken into it.

The priest then told him what money he had was in the desk that stood in the corner of the room, and, putting his hand in his pocket, took out the key, which he threw on the table; during the time he had been in the room, the ruffian was threatening him with immediate destruction; however, he took up the key, laid down the blunderbuss, and went towards the desk, when the priest drew one of the pistols, fired at him, and killed him on the spot!

The moment the report of the shot was heard, the hall-door was forced in, and four men entered, and rushed into the room; the priest, collected for the worst event, took up the blunderbuss, when he heard the crash of the door, and firing amongst them as they entered, killed two, and a third with the reserved pistol; the servant attacked the fourth with the pitchfork, and inflicted a wound in his back, but he unluckily escaped.
�Middleton Correspondent

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