These islands are named for the Irish slaves, formerly called Westmen, who are reported to have fled to this desolate pile in 879. For centuries it was the resort of piratical expeditions from England and from far-away Barbary. The first recorded attack was made by an English crew under the command of “Gentleman John.” Three years afterwards the church property was restored by King James, and John was severely punished.

The greatest raid was made in 1627. Barbary pirates were planning an expedition for plunder. One of them held a Danish slave by the name of Paul, who was tired of his life of servitude and counseled his master to make an expedition to Iceland. He stated that he had been there and could pilot them and that they could obtain a large profit in sheep and church valuables as well as many slaves. The expedition was decided upon and for his treachery he was to receive his freedom. The flotilla comprised four ships, one sailing from Kyle and three from Algiers. June 15 1627 the ship from Kyle reached Grimdavik, Iceland. They ransacked the village and took several prisoners. The people mistook the pirates for English fishermen, who had long been in the habit of landing on the coast to steal a few sheep, and so did not flee. The Moors captured a Danish trading vessel and then sailed to HafnarfjÖrÐr. After raiding this settlement they sailed for Kyle, which they reached in five weeks from their departure. Their prisoners were sold in the slave market.

The three ships from Algiers reached BerufjÖrÐr and thoroughly sacked the town. They remained on the Iceland coast eight days, captured one hundred and ten people and secured a large amount of booty from the treasure chests of the people and the churches. They were extremely cruel with the older people but quite kind to the children, hoping to convert them to the faith of Mohammed. To illustrate,—

At HÁl they found the priest’s wife, an aged woman, confined to the bed with sickness. They dragged her down to the shore, but finding her physically unable to go with them, beat her into an unconscious state with their muskets, a condition much to be preferred to that in which so many of her people found themselves in Moorish slavery.

They next set sail for the Westman Isles. They pressed into service an Icelandic renegade who had acted as pilot for English fishing boats. At this time the population of Heimaey was of two classes; first, Icelandic fishermen and birdcatchers and second, a small Colony of Danish officials and their servants. The Icelanders so mistrusted the Danes that they fled to the cliffs rather than assist them to repel the invaders. The Danish agent, Bagge, armed his assistants and prepared as best he could for defense, posting sentinels around the island.

Early in the morning Thorstein showed the pirates a secret path up the face of the cliffs at the south, which they ascended and spread out their damp powder to dry. During this time they danced and yelled in fiendish glee looking down upon their helpless victims. The raiders then divided into three bands and thoroughly ransacked the village. They looted the church and in mockery rang the bells, arrayed themselves in the vestments of the priest and finally burned the church. The people fled to the several caves in the tufa, many were murdered while in flight and others captured and bound. For three days one hundred people hid in one of these caves which is so concealed that it is with difficulty that it can be found.

Jon Thorstein, the first translator of the Psalms into Icelandic verse, a priest, since called “the Martyr,” took refuge in a small cave with his family where he doubtless would have been saved had it not been for the curiosity of a companion who ventured to the entrance and exposed himself and thus attracted the attention of the pirates. The following account is from the history of BjÖrn of ScandsÁ:—

“The priest went to the outer part of the cave, where he saw that blood ran in the opening; and then he hied him out, and saw that Snorri lay headless at the door of the cave: for the raiders had shot off his head, and he had been to them a signal for the cave. Then Jon went within again telling this hap; and he bade his folks beseech Almighty God to succor them. Forthwith thereafter these noisy hounds stood over the cave, so that he heard their footfall.

“‘Margrjet, they are coming,’ he said, ‘Lo, I will go to meet them without fear!’

“He prayed that God’s grace might not leave her. But while the words were in the saying, the bloodthirsty hounds came to the cave’s mouth and would search it, but the priest went out to meet them. Now when they saw him, one of them said,” (doubtless the renegade, Thorstein),—

“‘Why art thou here, Sira Jon? Ought’st not to be at home in thy church?’ The priest answered—

“‘I was there this morning.’ Then said the murderer,

“‘Thou wilt not be there to-morrow morning.’ And thereafter he cut him on the head to the bone. The priest stretched out his hands and said,—

“‘I commit me to my God. That thou doest do freely!’ The wretch then struck him another blow. At this he cried out saying,—

“‘I commit me to my Lord Jesus Christ.’

“Then Margrjet, the priest’s wife, cast herself at the feet of the tyrant, and clung to them, thinking that his heart might be softened, but there was no pity in these monsters. Then the scoundrel struck a third blow. The priest said,—

“‘That is enough. Lord Jesus receive my soul!’ Then the foul man cleft his skull asunder. Thus he lost his life.

“There was a little rift higher up in the cliff than where these folk lay, and two women saw and heard all these things.”

Nearly four hundred Icelanders were carried to the Algerian slave markets where most of them speedily succumbed to the cruelty of their masters and the hot climate. Of the many carried away only thirteen ever returned to their native land.

When HerjÖlfr settled in the Westman islands, legend relates that he buried a large amount of gold, part of which he obtained in his Viking expeditions to the English Channel and the remainder by selling the water of the only spring on Heimaey. His daughter, Vilborg, in true charity and by stealth, distributed the water to poor people in times of drought. The residents of the island delight to show the niche in the tufa where HerjÖlfr stabled his horses. The only spring on Heimaey to this day is called VilpÁ in memory of the maiden. Her father with all his wealth was buried during an earthquake and the inhabitants, when they have nothing else to do, delight in searching for the hidden treasure which the leader of the pirates, Morad, failed to find.

The Westman Isles are fourteen in number and lie seven miles off the south coast of Iceland. Four of these are entirely barren, sea-washed and storm-beaten, affording admirable nesting places for sea birds. The strait which separates them from the mainland is shallow, beset with shoals and hidden reefs and contains several treacherous currents. The mainland shore, the Rangar Sands, has a broad morass of drifting volcanic sand, upon which heavy waves continually break, rendering it nearly impossible to launch or beach a boat. Thus the Westman Isles are isolated much more than the narrow strait would indicate.

Until within a few years the children born on Heimaey have always died within two weeks of birth with infantile tetanus. It was formerly the custom for prospective mothers to visit the mainland to save their children from this dread disease. Improved sanitary conditions and scientific medical treatment have lately made this customary precaution unnecessary. Formerly the inhabitants were recruited by residents of the north of Iceland.

Heimaey, the “Home Island,” has an area of only four square miles and a population of less than one thousand. The village is on the northern side of the island, on the south shore of a little bay, under the bird cliffs which afford a harbor for small craft and then only in calm weather. This little bay is separated from the strait by the grand bird cliffs 2000 feet high, which are attached to the island by a narrow rim of volcanic sand. A solitary cone, Helgafell, with a black crater stands at the center of the island and Heimaey clings to the lower slope of the volcano, apparently ready to loose its grip and slip into the sea. The land slopes gently upward to the cone of cinder, tufa, and ash. The lower slopes are covered with a scanty carpet of grass freely sprinkled with flowers, where uncertain pasturage invites the sheep and forms a strong contrast to the red and black cone which rises naked against sea and sky.

The remainder of the island is a rough and jagged mass of lava, partly disintegrated into a desolate moor and partly storm-swept to the very ribs of the island. No brook chatters in the dark ravines, no trees shadow the sheep from summer’s long sunshine. Wherever the lava has crumbled to mingle with the droppings of uncounted generations of seabirds, the grass is emerald green as if in memory of the first settlers from the Emerald Isle. The climate is mild and enjoys the highest mean temperature in all Iceland. For centuries the people have had to depend upon their own resources. In recent years they have obtained supplies from Europe in exchange for oil, fish and feathers.

The houses, for the most part, are tidy little homes often with a little patch of carefully guarded cultivation. At the rear of the village stands the modest parish church, containing a good altar piece painted upon wood. Beside the church is the cemetery enclosed with a wall of lava and turf. The graves are mounds raised high above the level of the land, because the lava is so near the surface that to dig a grave is impossible and dirt is carried to the cemetery to form the mounds.

Excavations made in the volcanic sand in 1910 by Baron KlinckowstrÖm of Stockholm help to fix the date of the last eruption of the volcano. In the sand and ash he found evidences of a former people, a comb of ancient Scandinavian construction and the bones of the seal and sheep. One great volcano formerly covered this entire area and poured out ashes and cinder all around it. This material has since solidified into tufa and much of the tufa has been worn away, leaving many solid columns of the original lava core, which stand isolated in the sea. Then came the second eruption when the crater of Helgafell was formed. The references given in the LandÁmabÓk and the exhumed material fix the date of this eruption subsequent to the settlement of the island by the Irish slaves. The tufa itself is very hard for this class of volcanic rock. It is weathered in fantastic forms with myriads of niches and contains several sea caves. One of these is so large that we entered it in a thirty foot naptha launch and turned about within. The view from within is strange and impressive. The deep azure of the waters, the light brown tufa dome, the dark cone of Helgafell rising above the village and the clouds of sea birds shadowing the entrance to the cave and filling the air with a resounding clangor on our exit made a mark on memory’s tablet never to be effaced.

The most interesting occupation in Heimaey is bird catching. Of course the fish curing is worthy of attention, but then it is much the same whether we see it on the drear coast of Labrador, the green slopes of the Faroes, the lava blocks of Iceland or the wood stages of Gloucester. With the inhabitants of this volcanic pile it is not only a business it is a pleasure and an art which has culminated with generations of experience. The fulmar, puffin and guillemot are the principal birds taken. Throughout the summer the raucid clamor of the fulmars on the face of the cliffs mingles with the complaints of the puffins which stand in long rows like lines of soldiers, and the guillemots scan each other sagely from their captured niches in the tufa. These mammoth cliffs are riddled with holes and cracks and ornamented with narrow, projecting ledges. Above the cliffs there is an abundance of loose material where the shearwaters and puffins excavate their burrows.

Helgafell, Volcanic Cone in Vestmannaeyjar.

A Chain of Basalt Pyramids in Faroe.