In Kintyre, as compared with other parts of the Highlands and Hebrides, there is no history of forced Clearances. And yet, from about 1750 to the present century large numbers of people regularly left the district, seeking a better living overseas. For example round 1750 the population of Southend was approximately 3,000. When my father became minister of the parish In 1910 it had dwindled almost to its current level of about 500.

In a paper published In 1962 (reprinted In 1964) by the State Department of Archives and History in North Carolina, concerning men and women from Kintyre who had settled there In the years 1774 and 1775, the following reasons are given for their emigration: "Low wages, high rents, low prices of cattle, high prices of bread due to distilling , the conversion of arable lands into sheep pastures, and the exactions of landlords."
(The wheat was a valued ingrediant of Whisky. HR)

Around the rocky shores of Southend there can still be seen, grass-grown and deserted, the ruins of townships from which some of those people came. Balmagomery, Balmavicar, Balimacmurchle, Bailevearhil (township of Mac Michael), Balimackleconalich (township of Conley's son), Balinamoll - the names are like an old song sighing down the wind. Today such places appear to be of interest only to local shepherds and to the Royal Commission on the Ancient Monuments of Scotland.

But when strangers from abroad come visiting, sometimes an old song can acquire a new and vigorous tune. In the summer of 1975 Mrs. Harvey B. Hunter of Charlotte, North Carolina, unexpected dropped in to see us. She was accompanied by her daughter-in-law, a lecturer in history at the University of North Carolina.

Mrs. Hunter is a formidable lady, eighty years of age, who, with the help of two sons, conducts the business of a large dairy farm. At the gate of her house, she told me, in an attractive Southern accent which I had imagined existed only in the movies, there stands the model of a cow, twenty feet high.

She and her daughter-in-law had less than three hours to spare. Could I in that time, give her any Information about her ancestor, Daniel Caldwell, who had emigrated from Southend in 1774? She showed me a copy of the testimonial to his good character which he had carried with him to America. It was signed by David Campbell, minister of Southend, and John Raid, elder.

We stood on my lawn, looking out over the sunlit bay at the Rock of Dunaverty and at the old jetty which lies close to it. American hustle is all very well, but this was ridiculous. Suddenly, however, the name sparked off a memory of something I had read in Andrew McKerral's book, "Kintyre in the Seventeenth Century." I went into the house and looked up the reference; and there, sure enough, was a master clue. In 1774 the Caldwells had been tenants in the farm of Christlach.

I went back out on to the lawn, where the ladies were talking to my wife and admiring our roses. They reckoned they were better roses than they themselves could grow in North Carolina. Delighted by such evidence of American magnanimity, I cut two of the best blooms and presented them with one each. I looked over the bay again at the jetty near Dunaverty, and another memory occurred to me.

"Do you know the month in 1774 when Daniel Caldwell left Southend?"

"August," said Mrs. Hunter.

"The ship, he sailed in, was she by any chance the Ulysses?"

"Say, that was the very name! How did you know?"

I knew (or thought I knew) because a story about the Ulysses used to be told in Southend: how she had anchored in the bay while emigrants were taken out from the jetty in a small boat, and someone on the shore had played a lament on the bagpipes.

"It is possible," I told Mrs. Hunter, "that your ancestor sailed for America from out there, less than half a mile from where you are standing now."

She found words difficult. Her daughter-in-law made notes and worked hard with her camera.

"Now then " I said "we'll use my car and have a look around." I stopped first at the graveyard at Keil, where I showed them the gravestone of John Reid, the elder who had signed Daniel Caldwell's testimonial. I told them that his descendants still live in the parish, and that a modern John Reid is a friend of mine.

Mrs. Hunter was all eyes, scrambling about the knolls and hollows of the ancient burying place like an adolescent. I admired her fitness and said so. "I can still take a ladder and repair the roof of our chicken run," she announced, somewhat tartly. Her daughter-in-law took more photographs.

Then I drove them three miles north to Christlach Farm, where Daniel Caldwell had tried to help the meagre family income by working - without much success, it appears - as a part-time shoemaker. More photographs were taken .

Mrs. Hunter sighed. "Just wait," she said. "Just wait till I tell them about this back home !"

Finally we went to the church: St. Blaan's Kirk in the centre of the parish. I told them it had been built in 1773 and opened for public worship early in 1774. I explained that the pews of Norwegian pine were the original ones, adjusted in numbers, but otherwise unchanged for more than 200 years.

While her daughter-in-law made still more notes, sunlight from one of the small, lead paned windows cast a golden brown light over the old pews.

"Your ancestor, Daniel Caldwell, was obviously a good church-goer otherwise he wouldn't have got a testimonial signed by both the minister and an elder. In the early part of 1774, therefore he must often have sat in these very seats."

Mrs. Hunter sat down carefully on the polished pine.

"Two hundred years doesn't seem such a long time now," I remarked.

She said nothing, staring up at the empty pulpit.

Then, quietly, she began to cry, "Oh, my," she said, this is the most wunnerful day of ma life!"

It was a wonderful day for me, too.

When Mrs. Hunter returned to North Carolina she sent me a letter, enclosing Photostat copies of the "Records of Emigrants from Scotland", transcripts of which are in the possession of the North Carolina Historical Commission. Prom these it appears that among the emigrants from Kintyre who, on 18 August 1774, sailed with Daniel Caldwell in the "Ulysses" (James Chalmers, master) were the following, all of whom gave as their reason for emigrating either "high rents and oppression" or "poverty occasioned by want of work":

John Greenlees, 25, farmer, and his wife, Mary Howie, 25;
Peter McArthur, 58, farmer, his wife, Chirst Bride, 52, and their children, Ann, John and Jean;
Robt Mitchell, 26, tailor, and his wife Ann Campbell, 19;
Alexr Allan, 22, workman;
Iver McMillan, 26, and his wife, Jean Huie, 23;
John Perguson, 19, workman;
Rob McKlchan, 32, farmer, his wife, Janet McKendrick, 24, and their son, Neil;
Malm McMullan, 58, farmer, his wife, Cathn McArthur, 58, and their children, Daniel, Archd, and Gelbt;
Donald McKay, 20, tailor,
Daniel Campbell, 25, farmer;
Andw Hyndman, 46, farmer, his wife, Cathn Campbell, 46, and their children, Mary, Margt and Angus;
Malm Smith, 64, his wife, Mary McAlaster, 64, and their children, Peter and Mary;
Duncan McAllum, 22, and his wife, Cathn McAlester, 30;
Neil Thomson, 23, farmer;
David Beaton, 28, farmer, and his wife, Flora Bride, 29;
John Gilchrist, 25, farmer, and his wife; Marion Taylor, 21;
Neil McNeil, 64, farmer, his wife, Isobel Simpson, 64, and their children, Danl, Hector, Peter, Neil, Wlllm and Mary;
Allan Cameron, 28, farmer;
Angus Cameron, 18, and his wife Katrine Cameron, 21.