Transcript

Tá loch ins an áit s'againne a dtugann siad Loch na Faithreach uirthi. Ní theachaigh[1] a'n[2] fhear ariamh a dh'iascaireacht 'na[3] locha nach mbeadh díolta ar son a shaothair. Gheobhadh siad oiread i gcónaí agus dhíolfadh ar son an lae. Bhí bealach mór go dtí í agus (...) (a choil 'na loch), an mhuintir a mbeadh beathaigh acu, théadh siad an bealach mór. Ach théadh muidinne i gcónaí an aichearra. Théadh muid amach fríd na cnoic agus bhí sí ocht míle (uainn). Ach bhí seanghabha ina chónaí ins an am a chuaigh thart ar thaobh an locha agus bhí sé ag saothrú oiread airgid dá rabh ' dhaoiní ins an áit uilig. Bhí sé maith i gceart ag cur cruitheach ar bheathaigh.

Théadh siad leis na beathaigh a chur cruitheacha (...) ar an ghabha. Agus níodh siad lá iascaireacht. Agus dhíolfadh an lá ar shon cruitheacha a chur ar na beathaigh. Bhí siad ag obair leo mar sin go dtí a'n mhaidin amháin a chuaigh siad a dh'iascaireacht agus bhí an seanghabha marbh. Thoisigh siad a chuartú an airgid. Chuartaigh siad i rith an lae ach ní bhfuair siad airgead ar bith. Chuartaigh siad an lá harna mhárach. Ní bhfuair siad airgead ar bith. Thug siad suas an cuartú. Chuaigh achan nduine a dh'iascaireacht. Ní rabh duine ar bith ag amharc i ndéidh an airgid a bhí ag an tseanghabha.

Rinn muidinne suas, scaifte againn, céadtaí bliain 'na dhéidh sin choil[4] amach agus lá iascaireacht a dhéanamh ar Loch na Faithreach. Chuaigh muid amach. An chéad bhaidhte a chuir mise amach, chuaigh mo dhuán síos (i súil) na hinneoire a bhí amuigh sa loch. Bhí eascainn faoin inneoir agus fuair an eascainn greim ar an bhaidhte. Thug sé broideadh domhsa ach ní rabh maith domh tarraingt in mo bhaidhte. Bhí mé ansin ceanglaithe[5] i rith an lae. Bhí na hiascairí ag gáirí magadh faom, ag iarraidh orm briseadh. Níor bhris go dtí go rabh an tráthnóna. Nuair a thoisigh na hiascairí a dhéanamh suas a gcuid éisc le goil 'na bhaile chonaic mise go gcaithfinn briseadh (an uair sin), sin nó (...) (a tharraingt). Thug mé a'n tarraingt amháin agus chaith mé an inneoir suas agus an eascainn cúig slata déag fríd an fhraoch. D'amharc mé suas go bhfeicinn goidé a bhí liom. Chona' mé carria thuas agus é ag creafadaigh lena chosa. Chuaigh mé suas. Chruinnigh na hiascairí go dtí mé go bhfeiceadh siad goidé a thug mé isteach. Nuair a bhí an carria ag creafadaigh lena chosa nocht sé ceann cláir. Thóg mise an clár. Bhí clár eile faoi. Thóg mé an clár sin. Bhí bocsa faoin chlár sin. Thóg mé an bocsa. Bhí eochair faoin bhocsa. Bhain mé an glas den bhocsa. Bhí an bocsa lán óir. Thosaigh na hiascairí (a leasú) mar a (chraithfeadh siad) a dhéanamh suas gur cheart domhsa an t-ór a rann, ach ní rabh fear ar bith liomsa. Chuir mise an bocsa faoi m'ascaill agus shiúil mé liom 'na bhaile.

Nuair a tháini' mé 'na bhaile, d'fhiafraigh mo bhean domh an bhfuair mé iasc ar bith. Dúirt mé nach bhfuair.

"An bhfuair a'n nduine aon cheann?"

"Fuair achan nduine ualach éisc ach mise."

"B'annamh leat sin," (a deir sí).

D'fhág mé féin an bocsa síos ar an tábla. Thug mé an eochair as mo phóca. D'fhoscail mé an bocsa agus bhí an bocsa lán óir. "Sin an iascaireacht (is fearr) liomsa."

D'amharc sí ar an bhocsa. "Is fearr sin i bhfad ná an t-iasc."

Translation

There is a lake in our place called Glentornan Lough. No man ever went fishing on the lake who wasn't rewarded for his effort. They would always get as much as they could sell in one day. There was a big road to it, and (...) to the lake (?), the people who had horses, they used to take the road. But we always took the shortcut. We used to go through the hills and it was eight miles away. But there was an old blacksmith living at the time who went about on the lake shore and he was making money off all the people who were in the place. He was really very good at shoeing horses.

They used to go to get the horses shoed (...) at the blacksmith's. And they would do a day's fishing. And the day would pay for shoeing the horses. They were working away like that until one morning they went fishing and the old blacksmith was dead. They began to search for his money. They searched all day but they didn't find any money. They searched the next day. They didn't find any money. They gave up searching. Everyone went fishing. No one was bothered about the old blacksmith's money.

We went up, a gang of us, hundreds of years afterwards to go out for a day's fishing on Glentoran Lough. We went out. The first bait I put out, the hook went down into the eye of an anvil that was out in the lake. There was an eel under the anvil and the eel caught the bait. I felt the bite but I couldn't pull the bait. I was stuck there all day. The fishermen were laughing at me and scoffing, telling me to let go. I didn't let go till the evening. When the fishermen started to pack up their fish to go home I saw that I would have to let go at that time, then, or catch(?) (...). I gave one pull and I threw the anvil and the eel fifteen yards up through the heather. I looked up to see what I had. I saw a deer above flailing its feet around. I went up. The fishermen came to me to see what I had brought in. When the deer was flailing its feet it revealed a lid. I took the lid off. There was another lid under it. I took off that lid. There was a box under that lid. I lifted the box. There was a key under the box. I unlocked the box. The box was full of gold. The fishermen started to gather round (?) as if they had decided (?) I should share the gold, but there was no man with me. I put the box under my arm and I walked away home.

When I came home, my wife asked me if I caught any fish. I said I didn't.

"Did anybody catch one?"

"Everyone but me caught a load of fish."

"How unusual," she said.

I put the box down on the table. I took the key out of my pocket. I opened the box and the box was full of gold. "That's the fishing I like best (?)."

She looked at the box. "That's far better than fish."

Footnotes

Commentary

This personal story about the storyteller unearthing treasure may be related to a series of narratives that are common in international folklore, where lies or tall tales are told about fishing expeditions. Most often the narrative revolves around a massive fish, motif X1301 Lie: the great fish, but treasure seems to be replacing it in this instance, possibly employing motif X1154 Lie: unusual catch by fisherman. It also seems to employ a motif of the category of lucky accidents, namely N550 Unearthing hidden treasure. See Stith Thompson, Motif-index of folk literature (rev. and enlarged ed., 6 vols, Bloomington, Ind., 1955-8). The implication of the presence of these motifs is that the storyteller is deliberately lying or exaggerating details in the story for entertainment purposes. For an analysis of this type of story in an international context, see Nancy Cassell McEntire, 'Tall tales and the art of exaggeration', Acta Ethnographica Hungarica 54:1 (2009), 125-34.

This story is transcribed also in Róise Ní Bhaoill, Ulster Gaelic voices: bailiúchán Doegen 1931 (Belfast, 2010), 130-3. A version appears also in Nollaig Mac Congáil and Ciarán Ó Duibhín, Glórtha ón tseanaimsir (Gleann an Iolair, 2009), 16-18.