The Burkers
by Patrick Hutchison
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Swearwords: None.
Description: Bodysnatching was a very real fear to the Travelling people back in the 1840’s, about the time the story is set. What better for body snatchers than itinerant tinsmiths in lonely places? Much safer than digging up corpses under the eyes of the law. And much fresher, too!
Swearwords: None.
Description: Bodysnatching was a very real fear to the Travelling people back in the 1840’s, about the time the story is set. What better for body snatchers than itinerant tinsmiths in lonely places? Much safer than digging up corpses under the eyes of the law. And much fresher, too!
The old Travelling woman and her grandson were on the road, they were making for a communal camp site where Travelling families spent the winter.
It was a good area to await the coming spring, for the men helped with the ‘hairst’ and the women could sell their wares to the local inhabitants.
Her grandson Hamish was twelve years old and quite the young man now. She hoped he would get a job at the hairst along with the other Travellers; the money would set them up for the winter.
The road had been long and arduous for the old woman and her legs not being so good nowadays they’d made slow progress, so much so that they were well behind schedule. In the loam of approaching night and the old woman sitting down at one of her more and more frequent stops. Hamish wondered if they should ask a farmer for a place of rest for the night? His words spurred the old woman to retort, “Na na, we’ll cairry on a while langer,” and continued, “It’s nae dark yet, an we’re nae affa far fae the camp.” Helping his grandmother up Hamish was very concerned for her, her steps were getting rather totterie and several times he had to stop her from going her length on the metalled road.
Eventually he managed to persuade his grandmother that they should ask for a place to spend the night and knowing what he said made good sense she finally relented. They made their way up the very next farm road. The old woman was quite literally at the end of her strength and the last few yards were pure torture to her aching legs. Hamish knocked at the door while his grandmother sat on the edge of a horse trough. After a while the farmer came to the door and Hamish told him of his grandmother and how tired she was and could they get a place to rest.
When the farmer saw how done in she was he took pity and led them to the barn. He told them they could stay the night but said they weren’t to light matches as there was a lot of straw and that he didn’t want a fire.
They made themselves comfortable in the straw and rested. The old woman said the farmer was a kind man, but inwardly she had her misgivings. Wasn’t this how people disappeared? Sleeping peacefully, then the squeak of the Burker’s coach and the men with lum hats paying the farmer for tonight’s haul.
“Thank you, my man, an old woman and a young man to experiment on, the doctors will be pleased!” And then, OBLIVION! Two more Travellers gone! The old woman tore her thoughts from the burkers as someone entered the barn with a lantern. She cowered to herself, “This is it!” And was about to set up a howl when she saw it was a young girl. The girl gave them food from a basket and asked the old woman if she’d like some tea to wash the food down with. The girl shyly asked Hamish if he’d like some too. Hamish got very tongue tied for she was pretty and about the same age as himself. She left the lantern hanging from a beam while she went to fetch the tea.
They could now see what the barn looked like, the building wasn’t very long, about twenty paces long by about ten broad. The part they were in was open to the rafters, at the other end was a simple loft and ladder leading up to it. Beneath the loft was open apart from a few upright beams holding up the loft. Under this part were some barrels with lids on them, some pieces of horse harness hung on the wall above them. Midway and to one side of the door on the roof was a skylight and through it the old woman could see the moon. She muttered, “Caal iron, caal iron,” for it was supposed to be unlucky to see the moon through a frame. The old Travellers believed that to see the moon as a prisoner meant that you saw your own soul imprisoned by the powers of darkness and to say ‘caal iron’ ensured that any evil spirits were kept at bay by this ancient magic chant.
Later, when they’d finished eating, the servant girl came and took the dishes away and at the same time removing the lantern. Thanking the girl and wishing her a goodnight they settled themselves down on the straw. The old woman still thought about burkers but her tiredness and a full belly overcame any fears and she was soon asleep.
She awakened with a start, she’d heard something, a wind had risen, yes it was only the wind! Settling herself again she began to drift off when she heard the sound again. Sitting up fully this time she listened intently. On the wind she heard what sounded like a coach and horses coming up the farm road. She got up and listened again, sure enough on the wind was the sound again, she thought to herself, ‘BURKERS!’
Her attention turned to the barrels at the far end of the building. She’d heard stories that sometimes parts of human beings were pickled to keep them fresh for doctors at the colleges to do foul experiments on. Making her way slowly towards the barrels by the light of the moon through the skylight and being careful not to look up at the moon she eventually came to the barrels. Feeling about and it being completely dark under the attic she found a barrel and pulled the lid open. She put her hand into the barrel which was full of some kind of liquid. Searchingly she sweeled about and touched something. Lifting whatever it was out she gave a scream as she realised it was a similar type of thing that was on the end of her own arm, throwing the hand away from her and whimpered at her find for she’d lost her breath with terror. Hamish, awakened by the noise and commotion, shouted into the darkness, “Whit’s wrang grunny! Whit’s aa the noise for?”
She replied in a voice of doom, “Oh shannish oh shannish! Let’s get awa fae here, the Burkers are comin for’s!” Hamish had heard plenty of stories about burkers but had always treated them in the same way as he did ghost stories, as good to listen to but not to be believed. Now though! As he heard the doom in his grandmother’s voice he wasn’t so sure. And panic beginning it’s first stirrings in his lower stomach he went over to her. She said in desperate whispered tones, “We’ve got tae get awa fae here! I heard the coach o death comin up the fairm road, an they’ll tak us an cut us up an pit the bitties in yin o them barrels,” and added in a completely doomed voice that wid mak a very monk’s bowels turn tae water, “Naebody would ivver ken whit became o’s and they’d search and search tae nae avail, an us aa the time in yin o them barrels or else lyin ontae a slab and big gadgies cuttin lumps aff o us for experiments!” Poor Hamish nearly emptied himself on the spot at this and taking his grandmother by the hand he led her to the door but found it wouldn’t move. Desperately he pulled and pulled at the door but it just wouldn’t budge. Whimpering now he said shakily, “It’s locked!”
The old woman hearing his words gave a low moan and slid to the floor in a faint. Hamish attacked the door again with renewed vigour. Although he was twelve there was still the frightened child in him and seeing his grandmother going into a faint he knew they were doomed.
Hardly noticing in his panic his fingernails splitting on the rough timber of the door, he ineffectually and without logical reason clawed at the door, long since forgetting about the handle and giving free reign to the primeval survival instinct that is within us all. Slowly, the pain of torn fingernails began to slip into his panic clouded brain and with it came reason. He stopped and held his torn hands under his oxters, his breath coming in painful gasps and a weakness in his knees. Slowly he went to his grandmother who lay on the floor moaning. She kept repeating, “Caal iron, caal iron! Oh me the shancouls are comin caal iron caal iron oh shannish shannish!” followed by a gibbering sound before repeating the phrase over again.
Hamish was old enough to realise his grandmother was on the point of complete nervous collapse. Sitting her up and talking softly to her she slowly became coherent. After a time she got shakily to her feet and without a word apart from the gibbering sound went over in the direction of the attic. Hamish, thinking she’d finally cracked and was going for some reason to the barrels, made to stop her but was pushed roughly aside. Instead of going to the barrels she took the loft ladder and placed it immediately below the skylight. Then she roughly grabbed him and in desperate tones said, “Oot! we’ll get oot this wye!” Hamish comprehending and with relief said, “The skylicht,” and in revered tones said, “I widna hae thocht o that!” He quickly climbed the ladder and soon had the skylight opened. He reached down and took his grandmother’s hand saying urgently, “Come on Grunny!” Soon she was at his heels. Hamish climbed out of the skylight and reached back in for his grandmother. She managed to get her head and shoulders through the opening, but no matter how she tried she couldn’t get the rest of her through and was soon stuck fast.
Hearing the clatter of horses on the road Hamish pulled desperately at the old woman but she couldn’t budge. Knowing she was finished she told Hamish to save himself, to run for his life. Hamish refused to leave her and with a “I’m nae leavin ye tae the burkers,” and with tears of frustration he gave her one great heave. But it was no use, he couldn’t get his grandmother free. The old woman implored Hamish to run, and aware that the end was near, said to him, “Go! Get awa! Gyang tae the camp, it’s nae affa far fae here an come back wi some o the men, tell them the Burkers are here!”
Reluctantly, Hamish did as he was told even though he knew he’d never get to the encampment on time, let alone come back with the men, although he reasoned that if he did escape they’d be reluctant to touch his grandmother, for Burkers didn’t like witnesses. Soon he was gone and the old woman with her head and shoulders out of the skylight could clearly hear the coming horses on the wind. She began to chant again and before long the gibbering sound. Mostly it was gibbering interspersed with blubbering sound. As mental collapse drew nearer saliva began to flow giving the gibbering sound a wet blubber.
How long she was in this state she never knew. Perhaps she’d lost consciousness? Whatever, the next she was aware of it was daybreak and someone was pulling at her legs. She gave a weak scream and kicked out with her foot. A shout of exclamation followed by a crash came from below. The old woman began to scream, “Leave me alone! Yer nae gan tae be cuttin me up intae wee bitties!” A string of oaths threatening to bring all the bad luck upon the head of her tormentor that she could conjure up from the Black Arts.
Cloven hooves, cold iron, goblins and shancouls were mentioned. Threat of seed, breed and generations cursed with infertility, infidelity and constant states of inebriation were spouted. Reflections of their past genealogy and questions illegitimacy of her tormentor was raised and the reproductive organs of the body were even expounded, a knowledge of which would do any physician proud; whitelivered, blackhearted and redeyed were some and physical impurities of the body’s organs were aired as well the hope of her tormentor being blessed with such things as a humpy back, baldy pow, ringle e’e, hingin lugs, soor mooth, bachled legs, with the additional hope that the next time her tormentor went to evacuate himsel that he would pass molten lead. After she finished and feeling her tormentor pulling at her legs she knew all her curses were to no avail. She went quite limp and passive. Resigning herself to her fate, she began to gibber again and was dimly aware of hands dragging her down no doubt to cut her throat. Instead of getting her throat cut she was met by words of concern. The farmer was very distressed and wanted to know what had happened and why she was hanging half in and out of the skylight? The old woman as hopeful as she had been despondent a minute ago and sensing victory was within her grasp said haughtily, “Aye, nae so keen now eh! Nae knifies oot now eh! Fan ye see my grandson’s escaped yer tryin tae kid on that yer concerned,” and finished with an even bolder statement of fact and a question rolled into one “EH!”
The farmer seemed completely confused just stood there with his mouth wide open as the old angry woman went on about bodies in barrels, coaches driven by men in lum hats and doctors cutting bodies to pieces on slabs.
Slowly the farmer began to understand what she was talking about and asked her to let him see the body barrel?
She went to one of the barrels and threw the lid back with a crash, “THERE!” she said, pointing to the contents. And continued in an mournful voice, “Whit poor fowk hiv ye got in there? Did they ask for a place tae sleep ana?” Shaking her head in a disbelieving way, she was about to start her harangue again when the farmer pulled out a leg of pork from the barrel and asked, “Is this yer body?”
The old woman gave a short laugh and replied that he’d probably switched barrels when he found out that her grandson had escaped and just in case the police came. And continued with, “Why wiz the door locked then?”
The farmer said the door wasn’t locked, but the old woman disagreed volubly saying her grandson had pulled with all his might but couldn’t get it open. She was more than surprised when he informed her the door didn’t open inwards but outwards and her grandson had been closing the door instead of opening it.
Feeling rather foolish now and not wishing to seem the complete fool, the old woman tried to outsmart the farmer with, “Then why wiz the coach and horses comin clatterin up the road?”
The farmer denied the existence of a coach and horses, at which the old woman jumped in with the accusal of a cover up. She told him she’d heard the coach clearly on the wind and there was no mistaking the clatter of hooves nor the squeak of coach wheels.
Hearing her mention the wind reminded him of the water pump and when he told her the sound she’d heard was only the windwheel working to pump water from the well. She had to concede then that she’d been mistaken.
By this time all the farmhands had gathered to find out what was going on and at the culmination of the story burst into laughter. The old woman was at first angry but had herself to laugh, especially when she remembered how she’d blubbered with terror. Her laughter was at first nervous, then when she remembered the look on Hamish’s face her laughter became hysterical. She was still laughing when the men in lum hats came for her.
It was a good area to await the coming spring, for the men helped with the ‘hairst’ and the women could sell their wares to the local inhabitants.
Her grandson Hamish was twelve years old and quite the young man now. She hoped he would get a job at the hairst along with the other Travellers; the money would set them up for the winter.
The road had been long and arduous for the old woman and her legs not being so good nowadays they’d made slow progress, so much so that they were well behind schedule. In the loam of approaching night and the old woman sitting down at one of her more and more frequent stops. Hamish wondered if they should ask a farmer for a place of rest for the night? His words spurred the old woman to retort, “Na na, we’ll cairry on a while langer,” and continued, “It’s nae dark yet, an we’re nae affa far fae the camp.” Helping his grandmother up Hamish was very concerned for her, her steps were getting rather totterie and several times he had to stop her from going her length on the metalled road.
Eventually he managed to persuade his grandmother that they should ask for a place to spend the night and knowing what he said made good sense she finally relented. They made their way up the very next farm road. The old woman was quite literally at the end of her strength and the last few yards were pure torture to her aching legs. Hamish knocked at the door while his grandmother sat on the edge of a horse trough. After a while the farmer came to the door and Hamish told him of his grandmother and how tired she was and could they get a place to rest.
When the farmer saw how done in she was he took pity and led them to the barn. He told them they could stay the night but said they weren’t to light matches as there was a lot of straw and that he didn’t want a fire.
They made themselves comfortable in the straw and rested. The old woman said the farmer was a kind man, but inwardly she had her misgivings. Wasn’t this how people disappeared? Sleeping peacefully, then the squeak of the Burker’s coach and the men with lum hats paying the farmer for tonight’s haul.
“Thank you, my man, an old woman and a young man to experiment on, the doctors will be pleased!” And then, OBLIVION! Two more Travellers gone! The old woman tore her thoughts from the burkers as someone entered the barn with a lantern. She cowered to herself, “This is it!” And was about to set up a howl when she saw it was a young girl. The girl gave them food from a basket and asked the old woman if she’d like some tea to wash the food down with. The girl shyly asked Hamish if he’d like some too. Hamish got very tongue tied for she was pretty and about the same age as himself. She left the lantern hanging from a beam while she went to fetch the tea.
They could now see what the barn looked like, the building wasn’t very long, about twenty paces long by about ten broad. The part they were in was open to the rafters, at the other end was a simple loft and ladder leading up to it. Beneath the loft was open apart from a few upright beams holding up the loft. Under this part were some barrels with lids on them, some pieces of horse harness hung on the wall above them. Midway and to one side of the door on the roof was a skylight and through it the old woman could see the moon. She muttered, “Caal iron, caal iron,” for it was supposed to be unlucky to see the moon through a frame. The old Travellers believed that to see the moon as a prisoner meant that you saw your own soul imprisoned by the powers of darkness and to say ‘caal iron’ ensured that any evil spirits were kept at bay by this ancient magic chant.
Later, when they’d finished eating, the servant girl came and took the dishes away and at the same time removing the lantern. Thanking the girl and wishing her a goodnight they settled themselves down on the straw. The old woman still thought about burkers but her tiredness and a full belly overcame any fears and she was soon asleep.
She awakened with a start, she’d heard something, a wind had risen, yes it was only the wind! Settling herself again she began to drift off when she heard the sound again. Sitting up fully this time she listened intently. On the wind she heard what sounded like a coach and horses coming up the farm road. She got up and listened again, sure enough on the wind was the sound again, she thought to herself, ‘BURKERS!’
Her attention turned to the barrels at the far end of the building. She’d heard stories that sometimes parts of human beings were pickled to keep them fresh for doctors at the colleges to do foul experiments on. Making her way slowly towards the barrels by the light of the moon through the skylight and being careful not to look up at the moon she eventually came to the barrels. Feeling about and it being completely dark under the attic she found a barrel and pulled the lid open. She put her hand into the barrel which was full of some kind of liquid. Searchingly she sweeled about and touched something. Lifting whatever it was out she gave a scream as she realised it was a similar type of thing that was on the end of her own arm, throwing the hand away from her and whimpered at her find for she’d lost her breath with terror. Hamish, awakened by the noise and commotion, shouted into the darkness, “Whit’s wrang grunny! Whit’s aa the noise for?”
She replied in a voice of doom, “Oh shannish oh shannish! Let’s get awa fae here, the Burkers are comin for’s!” Hamish had heard plenty of stories about burkers but had always treated them in the same way as he did ghost stories, as good to listen to but not to be believed. Now though! As he heard the doom in his grandmother’s voice he wasn’t so sure. And panic beginning it’s first stirrings in his lower stomach he went over to her. She said in desperate whispered tones, “We’ve got tae get awa fae here! I heard the coach o death comin up the fairm road, an they’ll tak us an cut us up an pit the bitties in yin o them barrels,” and added in a completely doomed voice that wid mak a very monk’s bowels turn tae water, “Naebody would ivver ken whit became o’s and they’d search and search tae nae avail, an us aa the time in yin o them barrels or else lyin ontae a slab and big gadgies cuttin lumps aff o us for experiments!” Poor Hamish nearly emptied himself on the spot at this and taking his grandmother by the hand he led her to the door but found it wouldn’t move. Desperately he pulled and pulled at the door but it just wouldn’t budge. Whimpering now he said shakily, “It’s locked!”
The old woman hearing his words gave a low moan and slid to the floor in a faint. Hamish attacked the door again with renewed vigour. Although he was twelve there was still the frightened child in him and seeing his grandmother going into a faint he knew they were doomed.
Hardly noticing in his panic his fingernails splitting on the rough timber of the door, he ineffectually and without logical reason clawed at the door, long since forgetting about the handle and giving free reign to the primeval survival instinct that is within us all. Slowly, the pain of torn fingernails began to slip into his panic clouded brain and with it came reason. He stopped and held his torn hands under his oxters, his breath coming in painful gasps and a weakness in his knees. Slowly he went to his grandmother who lay on the floor moaning. She kept repeating, “Caal iron, caal iron! Oh me the shancouls are comin caal iron caal iron oh shannish shannish!” followed by a gibbering sound before repeating the phrase over again.
Hamish was old enough to realise his grandmother was on the point of complete nervous collapse. Sitting her up and talking softly to her she slowly became coherent. After a time she got shakily to her feet and without a word apart from the gibbering sound went over in the direction of the attic. Hamish, thinking she’d finally cracked and was going for some reason to the barrels, made to stop her but was pushed roughly aside. Instead of going to the barrels she took the loft ladder and placed it immediately below the skylight. Then she roughly grabbed him and in desperate tones said, “Oot! we’ll get oot this wye!” Hamish comprehending and with relief said, “The skylicht,” and in revered tones said, “I widna hae thocht o that!” He quickly climbed the ladder and soon had the skylight opened. He reached down and took his grandmother’s hand saying urgently, “Come on Grunny!” Soon she was at his heels. Hamish climbed out of the skylight and reached back in for his grandmother. She managed to get her head and shoulders through the opening, but no matter how she tried she couldn’t get the rest of her through and was soon stuck fast.
Hearing the clatter of horses on the road Hamish pulled desperately at the old woman but she couldn’t budge. Knowing she was finished she told Hamish to save himself, to run for his life. Hamish refused to leave her and with a “I’m nae leavin ye tae the burkers,” and with tears of frustration he gave her one great heave. But it was no use, he couldn’t get his grandmother free. The old woman implored Hamish to run, and aware that the end was near, said to him, “Go! Get awa! Gyang tae the camp, it’s nae affa far fae here an come back wi some o the men, tell them the Burkers are here!”
Reluctantly, Hamish did as he was told even though he knew he’d never get to the encampment on time, let alone come back with the men, although he reasoned that if he did escape they’d be reluctant to touch his grandmother, for Burkers didn’t like witnesses. Soon he was gone and the old woman with her head and shoulders out of the skylight could clearly hear the coming horses on the wind. She began to chant again and before long the gibbering sound. Mostly it was gibbering interspersed with blubbering sound. As mental collapse drew nearer saliva began to flow giving the gibbering sound a wet blubber.
How long she was in this state she never knew. Perhaps she’d lost consciousness? Whatever, the next she was aware of it was daybreak and someone was pulling at her legs. She gave a weak scream and kicked out with her foot. A shout of exclamation followed by a crash came from below. The old woman began to scream, “Leave me alone! Yer nae gan tae be cuttin me up intae wee bitties!” A string of oaths threatening to bring all the bad luck upon the head of her tormentor that she could conjure up from the Black Arts.
Cloven hooves, cold iron, goblins and shancouls were mentioned. Threat of seed, breed and generations cursed with infertility, infidelity and constant states of inebriation were spouted. Reflections of their past genealogy and questions illegitimacy of her tormentor was raised and the reproductive organs of the body were even expounded, a knowledge of which would do any physician proud; whitelivered, blackhearted and redeyed were some and physical impurities of the body’s organs were aired as well the hope of her tormentor being blessed with such things as a humpy back, baldy pow, ringle e’e, hingin lugs, soor mooth, bachled legs, with the additional hope that the next time her tormentor went to evacuate himsel that he would pass molten lead. After she finished and feeling her tormentor pulling at her legs she knew all her curses were to no avail. She went quite limp and passive. Resigning herself to her fate, she began to gibber again and was dimly aware of hands dragging her down no doubt to cut her throat. Instead of getting her throat cut she was met by words of concern. The farmer was very distressed and wanted to know what had happened and why she was hanging half in and out of the skylight? The old woman as hopeful as she had been despondent a minute ago and sensing victory was within her grasp said haughtily, “Aye, nae so keen now eh! Nae knifies oot now eh! Fan ye see my grandson’s escaped yer tryin tae kid on that yer concerned,” and finished with an even bolder statement of fact and a question rolled into one “EH!”
The farmer seemed completely confused just stood there with his mouth wide open as the old angry woman went on about bodies in barrels, coaches driven by men in lum hats and doctors cutting bodies to pieces on slabs.
Slowly the farmer began to understand what she was talking about and asked her to let him see the body barrel?
She went to one of the barrels and threw the lid back with a crash, “THERE!” she said, pointing to the contents. And continued in an mournful voice, “Whit poor fowk hiv ye got in there? Did they ask for a place tae sleep ana?” Shaking her head in a disbelieving way, she was about to start her harangue again when the farmer pulled out a leg of pork from the barrel and asked, “Is this yer body?”
The old woman gave a short laugh and replied that he’d probably switched barrels when he found out that her grandson had escaped and just in case the police came. And continued with, “Why wiz the door locked then?”
The farmer said the door wasn’t locked, but the old woman disagreed volubly saying her grandson had pulled with all his might but couldn’t get it open. She was more than surprised when he informed her the door didn’t open inwards but outwards and her grandson had been closing the door instead of opening it.
Feeling rather foolish now and not wishing to seem the complete fool, the old woman tried to outsmart the farmer with, “Then why wiz the coach and horses comin clatterin up the road?”
The farmer denied the existence of a coach and horses, at which the old woman jumped in with the accusal of a cover up. She told him she’d heard the coach clearly on the wind and there was no mistaking the clatter of hooves nor the squeak of coach wheels.
Hearing her mention the wind reminded him of the water pump and when he told her the sound she’d heard was only the windwheel working to pump water from the well. She had to concede then that she’d been mistaken.
By this time all the farmhands had gathered to find out what was going on and at the culmination of the story burst into laughter. The old woman was at first angry but had herself to laugh, especially when she remembered how she’d blubbered with terror. Her laughter was at first nervous, then when she remembered the look on Hamish’s face her laughter became hysterical. She was still laughing when the men in lum hats came for her.
About the Author
Patrick Hutchison was born in New Deer, Aberdeenshire, in the mid-Fifties and has lived all his life in the North-East of Scotland. Now retired, he loves the stories and folklore of the area and writes all his own stories in the Banffshire Doric. His first collection of stories, Sanners Gow’s Tales and Folklore of the Buchan, is available in paperback from the unco online bookstore.