Thomas Brown and Alexander Beith
It was hard enough to be worshipping down below high-water mark, but on the opposite coast, on the mainland, at Strontian, the congregation had to go further out to sea. The whole district of Ardnamurchan was the property of Sir James Riddell, extending over an area some 40 miles in length. Many of the people joined the Free Church and forwarded a respectful petition, asking for sites. His reply was a refusal, and the people of Strontian had to
1This article is prompted by recent news items reporting an appeal for funding to preserve an anchor believed to have been one of those used to secure the floating church. It was used for years before it was blown ashore in a storm; it was later broken up for scrap.
Last year, a local diver found the large, mushroom-shaped anchor and some pieces of chain partly buried at the bottom of Loch Sunart, in the West Highlands. After it is raised, it is hoped that the anchor will be displayed in a proposed local heritage centre at Strontian. The expensive part of the operation will be to conserve the anchor and chain so that they do not crumble away to nothing.
Both extracts are taken, with editing, from Thomas Brown, Annals of the Disruption, Edinburgh, 1893 edn. The book describes the events leading up to, and following, the Disruption of 1843, which resulted in the formation of the Free Church of Scotland. The first extract, written by Brown, comes after an account of a congregation on the Isle of Mull that often worshipped on a beach, as the landowner had refused them permission to erect a church building. The second extract quotes Beith, then a minister in Stirling, and includes an account of a visit to the floating church.
meet – about 500 of them – in the open air. At communion seasons, and at other times, Mr M’Lean of Tobermory held service on the hillside, often in severe weather, and sometimes when the congregation “was very wet”. Mr MacRae, of Knockbain, has preached to them with snow on the ground. At the summer communion he has had an audience of 2000 gathered from Strontian and the neighbouring districts.
The refusal of sites by the proprietor was a serious matter, but men at that time were not easily baffled. A floating church was proposed, which might be anchored in some sheltered bay near the beach, and provide a place of worship for the people till better days came round. The idea was eagerly taken up, subscriptions were raised, plans carefully drawn up, the vessel was contracted for at a cost of £1400, and much interest was felt as her construction went on in one of the shipbuilding yards of the Clyde. Then came the launch, and the voyage from Greenock to Loch Sunart. At first there was some difficulty as to a proper anchorage for the vessel. The best place, safest for the ship, and most convenient for the people, would have been just under the windows of Sir James Riddell’s mansion but, as a matter of good taste, another was chosen two miles away. There, about 150 yards from the shore, the vessel was safely moored.
How gladly the people left the storm-beaten hillside for this strange Highland church of the sea, need not be said. It was an unusual spectacle each Sabbath morning, as the hour of public worship drew near, to see boats sailing along from north and south, each with its contingent of hearers, while numerous groups could be seen far inland, wending their way down from the hills to where the floating church lay moored. Men speak of it as a stirring scene when ropes were run out from the beach, and the boats were rapidly passed backwards and forwards, conveying the worshippers on board. In winter, the hearers came from a distance of eight or nine miles, and in summer from a still wider area.
In rough weather it was no slight undertaking to get so many people on board. Even in summer, when all was calm, it was a tedious operation, and sometimes darkness was setting in before all were again ashore. The numbers who assembled depended on the reputation of the minister expected to preach, and the people had their own way of testing the esteem in which the different clergymen were held. It was found that, for every hundred hearers, the vessel sank an inch in the water, They could tell to an inch the popularity of every minister who came. A depression of six inches indicated that a congregation of 600 had been drawn together, and on some occasions it is said that this number was exceeded.
On the whole, it would appear that this plan of church extension, so novel
among the Highlanders, was found to answer well. There was only one person whom it did not altogether please. The letters of Sir James Riddell are those of a kind-hearted and friendly landlord, strongly prejudiced against the Free Church; but when he came from the Continent and saw what was going on, it was not to his mind. In an interview with Dr Beith, of Stirling, one of the officiating ministers, he expressed a wish to have the iron vessel brought in close to the shore, and secured, so as to be more convenient for the people. Dr Beith, while willing to consider the proposal, suggested that, in agreeing to this, he was really yielding the whole principle, and might as well give a site at once. For that, however, the time had not yet come.
The huge hulk, constructed of iron, was built, fitted out with pulpit and benches, small vestry etc, and successfully towed from the Clyde round the Mull of Kintyre by one or two tugs, and in the end safely moored in the appointed place. Her voyage over so dangerous a sea had not been without peril. The structure was so great and clumsy, and so unmanageable, that more than once she had nearly dragged the tugs onto the rocks. By the kindness of an over-ruling providence, the vessel arrived safely at her destination, and regular worship was set up
As a place of worship the accommodation was very comfortable, The pulpit stood at the bow, with the vestry at one side. The entrance for the congregation was towards the stern; that for the minister near the bow. A passage on one side, running the whole length of the church, provided access to the benches, which were ranged straight across the ship throughout her whole length. About 750 hearers could be comfortably accommodated. The church was too large for the neighbouring population, but sometimes it was quite filled, even crowded. A little experience taught how to judge the number present, by the gauge provided at the bow to measure the vessel’s depth in the water. It was very simple to determine whether the number at any time present at worship was 200, 400, or 700.
Here I preached three times on the Sabbath – twice in Gaelic, once in English – to a congregation of Morvern and Argyllshire Highlanders. When we arrived at the ship by boat, and took our places about 12 o’clock, the day was fine, with scarcely a breath of wind, the bow of the church was pointing up the loch, towards the east. During the service I became conscious of some unaccountable change, from the altered position of the sun’s shadow, and from the sound of water striking the outside of our place of worship. Soon I fancied I felt some slight motion, of heaving and rolling. It was very slight, and disturbed nobody.
By half past three, the three services had been brought to a close. Mean-
while the sunshine had disappeared, and a deep shadow prevailed in the church, notwithstanding the numerous, large skylights above us. When we emerged from the church we found that the wind had changed; it now blew up the Loch from the south-west, somewhat sharply too – quite enough to expose the boats and their occupants, as they made their frequent trips to and from the shore, to considerable showers of spray. All, however, got safely to land, though it took considerable time.