The Edge of the World Page #2

- Aye.

- Does anybody know?

- Only you two.

- When are you going to tell Peter?

- Tomorrow.

- The boat parliament?

- Aye.

Ah, Robbie, man,

you've gone over to the other side.

Before I went away,

I would have said the same as you.

But the world's changed,

it's bigger, it's easier to get at.

Before, we were no worse off

than anyone else.

Now we're living in an old world.

I've got a turn for machinery,

I can do things with it.

Why should I give it up?

What can Polly and I hope for

if I drag her back here?

Ah, Robbie, you're too clever for me.

You go your way and I'll go mine.

- Aye, but can't you see...

- That's final.

If you want to run away because

the work's too hard, or your fancy...

- Leave her out of it!

- I'd be glad to.

I'm as good a man as you. I could

always beat you on the cliffs.

- You're a stone lighter.

- Oh, that's nothing.

Do you see Wester Hoevdi?

To climb Wester Hoevdi without a rope

was another of the old trials.

Well, what do you say?

- (Andrew) Shall we make it a race?

- Aye.

Look.

The hills of Scotland.

I forbid it. A mad race like this

can settle nothing.

I'll not speak here of the defiance

in which I've been set by my own son.

I want you to speak of it.

This affects every man on the island.

You keep silent.

The boy's right, Peter Manson.

We're dealing with a question each

one of us has got to face squarely.

It's your homes, your families

and your future lives.

- Am I no right?

- (Murmurs of assent)

I'm no trying to read my elders any

lesson. A man must think for himself.

For hundreds of years now,

this parliament has met

every working morn.

But in a thousand years,

it's never faced the problem we face.

Year by year,

the population's shrinking.

Look what happened to Mingulay

and St Kilda,

islands barren now

that once supported people.

What happened in the Hebrides

will happen here.

You canna fight against it,

you canna stop it.

As I see it, it's...

it's every man for himself.

That's all I have to say.

And I came back here to say it.

Well, as you all know, I'm no

great hand at public speaking.

Except in kirk, John!

Thank you, James. Even then, it takes

me a week to make up my sermons.

But Robbie here makes out

a very good case.

And he says we can't fight it.

Can't fight? You mean

you won't fight, some of ye!

Look out there.

Trawlers sweeping the sea

wi' their nets,

loading their boats wi' fish

that belong to us island men,

ruining the new spawn

wi' their damned otter boards.

Three-mile limit.

What does it mean to them?

A dint in the head with a lump of

coal is all you get if you warn them.

What's the good of it?

Restrictions, that's what we want,

that's what we'll pray for.

The damn fools are ruining

their own game, as well as ours.

They've swept the shore

as bare as this hand,

you have to steam further out,

that means more coal,

then where's the profit?

Fight. Man, I've fought them

and the like all my life.

I've kept a roof over my croft,

brought my children up decently.

And then to have you, Robbie,

tell me it's each man for himself,

and act as though you spoke

for half the island,

when you're not two days back from

working for the boats that ruined us!

Three months' work

and 63 to show for it!

Shillings is what I'd be showing

if I'd stayed on Hirta.

- Och, you're no son o' mine!

- Don't take it so hard, Peter, man.

The boy's just said

what had to be said.

Men we must have,

and where are we going to get them?

Oh, this tale o' Robbie's has been

in my mind for a long while.

Now, if we was to petition

the Government,

there's little doubt we'd get free

transportation and a grant o' land.

I would remind you, James Gray,

that that is for the laird to decide.

And it's within my province...

We'll respect everybody.

This seems a simple enough matter.

We've agreed to race to the top,

and race we will.

Let the man who gets there first

have the way of it.

If parliament sat for a thousand

years, they wouldn't decide better.

Well, it may be so, Andrew,

but I don't approve.

No, it's too risky.

- Do you no think so, Peter?

- I can see no objection.

Well, then, down to the boats.

Come on, then.

- Peter.

- What is it?

You're letting the two boys

risk certain death.

A word from you would stop this race.

I've climbed the Hoevdi three times.

- But with a rope.

- Aye.

Don't go, either of you!

It's a mad way to settle it!

- It's the only way!

- Can't you discuss it?

- We tried that.

- It's no good, Ruth.

You'll both be killed.

I felt it when we saw

the mountains in the sky.

And the sun went in the clouds.

I'll lose you both!

And yesterday I was so happy.

- There's nae time to waste.

- Heave away, there!

All together!

I can't stop them, Granny.

They're going to climb.

They won't listen to me.

Have you chosen your route yet?

Aye. Up the east side, then straight

along, up by the channel.

The old way we went egg hunting.

Remember there's no rope this time.

I'm no likely to forget.

I'm for the south face,

then over the Devil's Elbow.

- Longer, but I'll make better time.

- You'll have to.

- It's a grand treat for the folk.

- Are you ready?

When you get to the burn

take the right channel.

The left's shorter but it's no good,

you'd never get back. Don't forget.

They're both good lads

and they're doing fine.

Good lad, Andrew!

He's out of the Devil's Elbow!

Robbie's taking the left channel!

It's no possible!

In!

Andrew!

I can't...

Father! That's enough!

James and Andrew of Burns,

I bid you to the funeral

of Robbie Manson, tomorrow, at 12.

We will come.

Jessie and Jean of Grisengarth.

I bid you to prepare for the funeral

of Robbie Manson, tomorrow, at 12.

Magnus of Quenester.

I bid you to prepare for the funeral

of Robbie Manson, tomorrow, at 12.

I bid you to the funeral

of Robbie Manson,

tomorrow, at 12.

Tomorrow, at 12...

Tomorrow, at 12...

(Faint) Tomorrow, at 12...

(Glen Lyon Lament)

O, waly up the bank

Waly down the brae

Waly by yon riverside

We were wont to gae

Hovan, hovan, hovan eerie

Hovan, hovan, O

Hovan, hovan, hovan eerie

Hovan, hovan, O

Hovan, hovan, hovan eerie

Hovan, hovan, O

Hovan, hovan, hovan eerie

Hovan, hovan, O

(Islanders whoop)

(Sheep bleat)

(Whooping)

(Bleating)

I love you, Andrew.

I love you, Ruth.

Father's a hard man to understand.

- A hard man, you mean.

- No worse than you all are.

You said yourself he won't hear

my name spoken since Robbie died.

- You canna blame him for that.

- No?

Will I speak to him?

He'll never let us marry... now.

But we don't need his permission.

Do we?

You know we do.

And if he won't give it?

Then we'll just have to wait.

I've waited long enough.

We're too few to bear a grudge long.

Not a day passes that I don't

cross your path or you mine.

Do you and your father

want to drive me off the island?

Do you think

I don't care about Robbie?

Do you think I'd forget that he was

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