‘Well,’ says Jack, ‘I was hoping to take them, to show them to the king.’ But he didn’t tell her they were magic bellows!
So the queen couldn’t wait till she got these bellows and she’s admiring them. She says to Jack, ‘You carry the flowers, and I’ll carry the bellows!’ In she goes to her bedroom.
Now Jack said to her, ‘Look, there’s a wee spell on those, on those bellows, and they work themselves. You don’t need to pump them with your hands.’
‘Oh, that’s better,’ she said. ‘I’m delighted! I’ll have to shout for His Majesty the King and shout for everybody in the castle to have them come and see these magic bellows. You’ll get anything you want for them.’
So the queen caught her flowers and she stuck them into nice vases round about the room. She shouted for the king, the cook, the footman, the butler, for everybody to come in and see these magic bellows. And the fire, they had a great big fire. (Oh, the old-fashioned fires in the big castles were great big monster fires. And it was all sticks, they had no coal to burn in those days.) She said, ‘How do they work?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you just put them down at the fire and you say, “Blow, bellows, blow!”’
And the big, old, fat king – oh, he’s dying to see this, you see! And the cook comes in, the butler comes in, the footman comes in, and the queen – she’s standing close to the bellows. She said, ‘Blow, bellows, blow!’
And the bellows started to blow, and they blew the fire clean up the chimney. And they started to blow – now, the North Wind had put a big spell in them, you see – and they blew the queen’s hair right out straight, all that bonnie lovely yellow hair, blew the queen’s hair all the way back. They blew the roses out of the vases. They blew the king up and he stuck to the chandeliers. And the bellows started to go around the room and around the room, and they blew on the footman; they blew up the clothes of the cook and she was battering them with a stew pot and she couldn’t stop them!
They go out through the door and round the castle, round the palace, and are blowing all the flowers down, blowing the trees down … the king, he’s shouting for somebody to come and help, for the footman to go and get a ladder to get him down. And the cook’s after these bellows with a skillet, she’s trying to skelp the bellows – but no, she can’t stop them.
Now poor Jack didn’t know what to do, he’s dumbfounded. He’s shouting, ‘Stop, bellows! No!’ The more he shouted the worse it got.
The queen’s shouting for the bellows to stop, the whole castle is in an uproar with these bellows. They’re blowing everything in the castle outside in, but no, they can’t stop them!
Jack says, ‘There’s nothing for it! I’ll never get them stopped in the world – there’s only one cure, I’ll have to go back for the witch – no other cure!’ So it’s off with his two boots. Jack rolled up his trousers and he set sail back, and he ran and he ran and he ran.
Now all this time he was away these bellows were still going, round the castle and round the castle and they blew every stick of furniture, everything, out of the castle. They blew all the trees down at the castle, blew everything out of the garden – these bellows. And they’re going round in circles, puffing and blowing wherever they could get. Nobody could stop them. And the king! He’s hiding away into a cupboard and he’s got a hold of the queen with the fright of this thing, with the wind in these bellows. And he’s shouting for Jack, but Jack’s gone.
So Jack ran and he ran and he ran as fast as he could. He was out of breath as he ran to the top of the hill. And he told the witch, ‘Oh—’
‘What is it, Jack?’ she said. ‘Lord, what’s wrong with you, laddie!’
‘Look,’ he says, ‘I ran all the way …’ and he told her the story.
‘Oh, you did the wrong thing,’ she said. ‘But I put a spell in the bellows – I only gave it a spell to kindle your fire and no more … aye, Jack, I know who it was– it was the North Wind up to his tricks again! It was him, he blew into it and he made those bellows like that. God knows what’ll happen now,’ she said, ‘with the disturbance it caused down at the palace, Jack!’
‘I’m in trouble,’ he said, ‘because it was me who went with the bellows in the first place. I’ll probably get my head cut off, the king will maybe put me to the dungeon!’
‘No,’ she says, ‘I’ll tell you what to do: you run away back and I’ll be there as quickly as you. And I’ll put a stop to the bellows,’ says the old witch. ‘See!’ She went out the back door, jumped on her broomstick, got the broomstick between her legs and away she went, ‘whist’ through the air, and she landed in front of the castle just in minutes.
Here the bellows are still going – they’re puffing and blowing around the castle and blowing the dust around, blowing in the windows. They had blown the queen’s feather-bed till there was nothing left, they’d scattered the feathers all over the palace for miles. They’d blown every stitck of clothes off the cook and she’s standing shivering at the back of the door. And the butler – he’s worse!
Anyway, the witch landed – right in front of the bellows. And the bellows are circling, puffing and blowing and puffing round in circles. So the witch stops and she draws a big circle and she points to the bellows, ‘Come here! Come you to me, bellows!’ she said. And the bellows stopped. And they came round, came round and came back – when they came right into the middle of the circle the witch made a snap at them – and their power was gone. She pumped the bellows, pumped them, two–three times – no more wind. ‘Right!’ she said.
So everything quietened down at the castle and she went up to the king, and she told the king, ‘Look, Your Majesty, it wasn’t Jack …’ and she told the king the story that I’m telling you. She said, ‘It was the North Wind; Jack had nothing to do with it.’
‘Well!’ says the king. ‘It’ll take weeks, maybe months to put this castle back the way it was, but somebody has to pay for it.’
‘Well,’ says the witch, ‘it wasn’t Jack.’
‘He was the one who came,’ said the king.
‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do;’ she said, ‘it was the North Wind that caused all the trouble, and I’ll send him to you and you can make him pay for what he did.’
So Jack went in to the king and the king forgave Jack. And the queen looked at the bellows – oh, she was terrified! The witch says, ‘No, no, Your Majesty the Queen, you’re all right.’ In one spell the witch had put everything back to normal, everything back the way it had been.
‘Everything’s back to normal,’ the king said, ‘but somebody has to suffer for what I suffered with those bellows!’
When the queen saw the bellows, she liked them but she was afraid to touch them. ‘Go on!’ said the witch. ‘Go up to them, catch them, blow the fire with them!’
And the queen was kind of frightened, you know. She went up, she caught the bellows and she puff-puff-puff-puffed the fire. The fire blazed up beautifully … and the queen fell in love with the bellows. And she gave Jack a big bag of gold for the bellows and everybody was contented.
‘But no,’ said the king, ‘there’s one man who’s got to come yet and be reckoned with. And that’s the North Wind!’
‘Well,’ says the witch, ‘I’ll send him to you when I go back.’ So the witch jumped on her broomstick and back she went to Blowaway Hill where her house was. And sitting on Blowaway Hill in her wee house was the North Wind.
And he’s sitting and he’s laughing, ‘Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!’ Oh, he’s laughing away to himself. He could see what was going on, you see!
‘Aye,’ said the witch, ‘it was nothing to laugh about. You nearly got poor Jack in a lot of trouble with your carry-on.’
‘Well, I didn’t mean any harm, it was only for fun,’ he said. ‘I blew into the bellows and made the spell a wee bit stronger.’
‘You nearly got Jack hanged,’ she said. ‘And if I hadn’t got there in time and settled things,’ she said, ‘God knows what would have happened to the poor ladd
ie! But anyway, all’s well that ends well.’
‘Ah well,’ he said, ‘that’s it.’
‘No, that’s not it!’ says the witch. ‘You’re wanted back at the palace – the king wants you!’
‘What does he want me for?’ asked the North Wind.
She said, ‘He wants you for what you did!’
‘Well, there hasn’t been any wind around the palace for a long while … I’ll have to go when His Majesty calls on me,’ said the North Wind – ‘I’ll have to go!’
The king was lying back in his palace, he and the queen, when all in a minute the wind started round and round the castle, ‘Whooo, whooo,’ in through the window – right to the king’s feet.
‘Who are you?’ said the king.
He said, ‘I’m the North Wind.’
‘Oh you are,’ says the king, ‘you’re the North Wind, eh? You’re the man that caused all the trouble with the bellows?’
‘I am,’ said the North Wind, ‘and I’ve come to beg your pardon,’
‘Well, look,’ the king explained, ‘I’m not in a bad mood now; but I was in a bad mood for a while and, you know, I’m not a bad king.’
‘Well, I’m thankful for that!’ says the North Wind.
‘But one thing you’ll have to do for me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to let you off on one condition: when there comes bonnie, warm warm days at my palace; when there’s not a breath of wind round my palace, and everything is warm and hot and there’s not a breeze to be seen, and the trees and everything are quiet, I want you to come and blow a cold breeze about me whenever I get hot.’
‘Right!’ said the North Wind. So he and the king shook hands onto it, and he bade the king ‘farewell’.
And after that, the king had never any need to worry! Because when it was hot blazing sun and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the king could lie back and enjoy a cool, cool breeze from the North Wind. And the witch was happy and Jack was happy and that’s the last of my wee story.
1 sorted – repaired
1 a bit piece – a sandwich
1 I doubt she's a wee bit away with the birds – she's certainly gone mad
1 as low as my father – as sure as the death of my father
Jack and the Devil’s Purse
My father’s cousin Willie Williamson of Carradale told me this story in Argyll when I was a boy. As a family we lived in a large handmade tent or barrikit in a forest near Loch Fyne. A river separated our part of the wood from another part, where my traveller relations, like Uncle Willie, would come along to camp in the summer and put up their low tents. We children would cross the river and go to the traveller camping places, sit there and listen.
A long time ago in the West Highlands of Scotland Jack lived with his old mother on a little croft. His father had died when he was very young and Jack barely remembered him. He spent most of his time with his mother. They had a few goats and a couple of sheep on their small croft. His mother kept a few hens and she sold a few eggs in the village. She took in washing and knitting and did everything else just to keep her and her son alive. But Jack grew up. He loved and respected his mother. And he tried to make the croft work, but things got very hard. The ground was too hard and stony, little crops could he grow. He always depended on the few shillings that his mother could bring in because he couldn’t get very much off the land. And where they stayed was about two miles from the small village– there was a post office and a local store and a little inn. Jack used to walk there every week to get his mother’s few groceries, or messages. And Jack had grown up to be a young man by this time.
So one day his mother called him, ‘Jack, are you busy?’
‘Well no, Mother,’ he said, ‘I’m no busy. I’ve cut the wee puckle hay and I’ve stacked it up, it’s no much.’
She said, ‘Would you like to go into the village an get something for me?’
‘Of course, Mother,’ he said, ‘I always go, you know I always go.’
So she gave him a few shillings to walk into the village. And he went into the stores and bought these few groceries for his mother. He came walking across the little street, and lo and behold he was stopped by an old friend of his mother’s who had never seen his mother for many years. But the friend knew him.
‘Oh Jack!’ he said, ‘you’re finally grown up to a big young handsome man.’
Jack said, ‘Do I know you, sir?’
‘Och laddie,’ he said, ‘ye ken ye know me, I’m a friend o’ yer mother’s.’
‘Well,’ Jack said, ‘I’ve never remembered much about you.’
‘Oh but your mother does! Tell her old Dugald was askin for her when ye go back!’ He said, ‘I was your mother’s lover, you know!’
‘Oh well,’ Jack said, ‘that’s nothin to do with me.’
‘Well, tell your mother I’ll come out an see her first chance I get,’ he said. ‘I’ve been away travellin. But now I’m back and I’m settled here in the village, I’ll prob’ly come out and see her sometime.’
‘Okay,’ says Jack, ‘I’ll have to hurry.’
‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘laddie, ye’re no goin awa like that! Come in wi me!’
Jack said, ‘Where?’
He says, ‘Into the inn.’
Jack says, ‘The inn? Sir, I don’t—’
‘Dinna call me “sir”,’ he said, ‘call me Dugald!’
He said, ‘Sir, I never was in a inn in my life.’
‘Oh laddie,’ he said, ‘you mean to tell me you never had a drink?’
‘No me, Dugald,’ he said, ‘I never had a drink.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’re gettin one now! Come wi me.’ Into the little inn. Jack had his mother’s little groceries, he placed them beside the bar. ‘Two glasses of whisky!’ said old Dugald, who’d had a few glasses before that. ‘Drink it up, laddie! It’s good for ye. And I’m comin to see yer mother, mind and tell her!
Jack drank the glass of whisky for the first time in his life. Oh, he choked and coughed a little bit and it felt strange to him. He had never had a drink before in his life. But after a few seconds when the warm glow began to pass across his chest and his head began to get a little dizzy, Jack felt good!
And old Dugald said, ‘Did you like that?’
Jack said, ‘Of course, it was good.’
‘Have another one,’ he said. So he filled another glass for Jack and Jack had two full glasses of whisky for the first time in his life.
He said, ‘Well now,’ he was feeling a wee bit tipsy, ‘I think I’d better go home wi my mother’s groceries!’
‘Okay laddie,’ he said, ‘mind my message now! Tell yer mother I’ll come out to see her because she’s an old girlfriend o’ mine!’ Old Dugald was well on with the drink.
Jack picked up his little bag and he walked back … two steps forward, three steps back. But he made his way to his mother.
When he walked in his mother was pleased to see him, she said, ‘Your supper’s on the table.’
‘I’m no wantin any supper, Mother,’ he said.
She said, ‘Jack, have you been drinkin? You know, Jack, drink ruined yer father. It was drink that killed yer father.’
‘Oh Mother,’ he said, ‘I had the best fun o’ my life. In fact I met an old boyfriend o’ yours!’
And she touched her hair and she pulled her apron down, you know! She smoothed her apron, she said, ‘What did you say, laddie?’
He said, ‘Mother, I met an old boyfriend o’ yours!’
And she tidied her hair, pulled down her apron and said, ‘What did you say?’
‘I met an old boyfriend o’ yours and he’s comin to see ye!’
She said, ‘A, my boyfriend? I have nae boyfriends, laddie.’
‘Aye Mother,’ he said, ‘you’ve had a boyfriend – before you met my father.’
She said, ‘What’s his name?’
He said, ‘Dugald.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘young Dugald, young Dugald! God, laddie, I’ve nev
er seen him for years.’
‘Well Mother,’ he said, ‘he’s comin to see you onyway.’
She was pleased about this. She’d forgot about Jack’s drinking. So they sat and they talked and they discussed things. And things went on as usual. But Jack had the taste of drink.
Now every time he went to the village he would say, ‘Mother, could I borrow a shilling fae ye?’ or, ‘two shillings’ or, ‘three shillings’, every time for the sake of getting a drink. And Jack finally got hooked on drink. Till there was no money left, there was no money coming into the croft by his work or his mother had nothing to spare. She gave him what she could afford to buy the messages and that was all. ‘Mother,’ he said, ‘gie us a shilling, or something!’
‘No, son,’ she says, ‘I havena got it.’
‘Anyway,’ he says, ‘I’ll walk to the village.’
So on the road to the village there was a cross-roads, one road went to the left, one road went to the right. Jack was coming walking down, he said, ‘God upon my soul, bless my body in Hell, and Devil …’ he’s cursing to himself. He said, ‘What would I give for a shilling! My mother has nae money, she gien me everything she had. God, I could do with a drink! I could do, I could walk in an buy mysel a glass o’ whisky and really enjoy it. God Almighty, what’s wrong with me?’
No answer.
He said, ‘The Devil o’ Hell – will ye listen to me? ‘I’d give my soul tonight to the Devil o’ Hell if he would only give me a shilling for a drink!’ But lo and behold Jack walked on and there at the cross-roads stood a tall dark man.
Jack was about to pass him by when he heard, ‘Aye, Jack, you’re makin your way to the village.’
Jack looked up, he said, ‘Sir, do you know me?’
‘Ah, Jack, I ken you all right, you and your mother are up in that croft there.’
‘But,’ Jack said, ‘I’ve never met you, sir.’
‘No, Jack,’ said the man, ‘you’ve never met me. But I heard you muttering to yourself as you were comin down the road. And the things you were sayin I was interested in.’
Jack said, ‘What do you think I was sayin?’
The King and the Lamp Page 19