We were now about eleven miles from Wick, and as Mr. Nicolson told us of
an old castle we had missed, we turned back across the moors for about a
mile and a half to view it. He warned us that we might see a man
belonging to the neighbourhood who was partly insane, and who, roaming
amongst the castle ruins, usually ran straight towards any strangers as
if to do them injury; but if we met him we must not be afraid, as he was
perfectly harmless. We had no desire to meet a madman, and luckily,
although we kept a sharp look-out, we did not see him. We found the
ruined castle resting on a rock overlooking the sea with the rolling
waves dashing on its base below; it was connected with the mainland by a
very narrow strip broken through in one place, and formerly crossed by a
drawbridge. As this was no longer available, it was somewhat difficult
to scale the embankment opposite; still we scrambled up and passed
triumphantly through the archway into the ruins, not meeting with that
resistance we fancied we should have done in the days of its daring
owner. A portion only of the tower remained, as the other part had
fallen about two years before our visit. The castle, so tradition
stated, had been built about the year 1100 by one Buchollie, a famous
pirate, who owned also another castle somewhere in the Orkneys.
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