Stories of mermaids abound in Irish folklore and can be guaranteed to arouse the curiosity of most people, especially if they're sad and haunting and those are almost essential ingredients. So it was a nice surprise recently when I came across an ingriguing mermaid story set in the wild and windswept Malin Head region of Donegal, one I had not heard before and like most mermaid stories, to be taken I suppose with a large pinch of sea salt.

Perusing through some newspaper files dating back to the 1920s, while carrying out a little bit of research on a totally unrelated topic, I found myself drawn to an article written by a lady called Jane Pinkerton in which she set down her impressions of a holiday in Donegal. A writer of some skill, she painted a nice picture of what life was like in that part of Ireland in the early years of the last century, but the bit that really caught my attention came near the end of her piece. It was a fascinating account she had been given of what might be described nowadays as a 'close encounter' with a mermaind, told to her by an old woman identified only as the 'Queen of Innistrahull', a title by which, apparently, she was familiarly known throughout the district.

She had met this 'Queen' one day on the shore at Malin Head - at the time she was herding a 'lachter' of young ducks. 'She is a fine old woman', she wrote, 'showing strong character on her face. She lives on the mainland now but her heart is sore for the island. She is very proud of being a boat contractor to the Government; she gets a quarterly cheque for carrying the mail. I gave her a 'douceur' and she gave me a green glass ball and offered me a ride to the island on her boat'. The invitation was refused, however, for the author, apparently wasn't much of a seafaring lady.

Needless to say, it didn't cut much ice with 'the vigorous old queen' who loved the sea and she began to talk of mermaids. 'The attraction she held out to me', wrote Jane Pinkerton, 'was to see the mermaids. She says they sing in the caves on the island and comb their beautiful hair with ivory combs'. The queen went on to tell her that one winter night she had found a comb that a mermaid had left behind her on the rocks. She had kept it for years until one of her grandchildren, who loved playing with it, lost the precious item. For a long time the mermaids, it seems, kept coming back to the rocks looking for the comb and 'lamenting its pitiful loss'.

Whether or not the story of the lost comb had any bearing on the old lady's subsequent account of what happened when 'long ago' a Malin man came across a mermaid on the rocks and later married her, is not clear. At any rate, so the story goes, he took the fish-tail cover off the mermaid's feet and hid it in a hayloft. Perhaps he knew that mermaids are supposed to settle more easily in human company if the fish-tail cover is removed. Should she ever see it again, 'however, 'a wild longing to be back to the sea comes over her, and it is always too strong to be denied'.

It seems that the Malin mermaid settled down quite happily with her husband and they had two children. They lived a quiet life and she, a gentle and sensitive soul, was content to carry out the normal household chores. One day her husband went to Carndonagh to sell some sheep. While he was away, the children were playing in the hayloft and found the fish-tail cover. Curious to know what it was, they took it to their mother. She was just as bewildered as they were but apparently she put her feet into it and at once was 'off to the water'.

That was the last anyone saw of her and when her husband returned home he was 'demented for he dearly loved his mermaid wife'. The writer later observed: 'I was told that there are descendants of the mermaid to this day and that they are famous for their good manners'.

This is how the article concluded: 'My holiday was over and I was sorry to leave the place where the hills are green and the hearts are kind. A week at Malin Head in the strong air is worth a month elsewhere I know no place to compare with it for health and beauty'.

Doubtless, Jane Pinkerton recounted the sad tale of the Malin mermaid many times to friends aná relations in the years that followed and how it had been told to her by an old woman who was known as the 'Queen of Innistrahull'.