"Do you think we are such fools as to travel without powder and ball in time of war?" said I, and hoped it had passed unnoticed; but the fellow threw it down outside the house door, saying lead would not suffer for a little fresh air, at which old Colin Dearg laughed, and said:
"No doubt such gentlemen will have their ruffles there. I will carry it in myself."
"Don't think of it," said I, much put out, and, raising it, I placed it in a corner of the room where I could easily keep my eye on it, and wished from the bottom of my heart we could set off.
Old Colin Dearg was most offensive, although pretending to an extreme courtesy. He disclaimed having seen Creach, or Graeme, since the day before, but we were certain this was a blind, as we could see he knew who the supposed Captain Lynch was, and kept pushing him with questions about the Imperial service, until I feared for the latter's temper. But nothing could move Father O'Rourke when he had not a mind to it, and he rattled on as though he noticed nothing.
The old man pretended to rate the women who were preparing our supper, but I knew well it was all a pretext, though why he was anxious to keep us I could not make out. At length, when he could delay no longer, we sate down in a great room, but, to my dislike, in total darkness, save for the little blaze on the hearth and what light could reach us through the open door. This was bad enough; but on sitting down with the officers, and a Mr. Gordon, who was to be of our company, the room was speedily filled with the riff-raff of men idling about, who took their places behind us.
Colin Dearg would not sit down with us, but pretended to busy himself bustling about and shouting out orders to the women and encouragements to us to eat heartily of his fare, which he called by all the wretched names in the world, though it was good enough. I was most uneasy, but Father O'Rourke held the company with his talk, while I quietly assured myself that my portmanteau was safe, though I chafed sadly at the precious time we were wasting. At length I put ceremony aside and insisted we must be off; whereupon we drank a single glass from our store to Prince Charles's health and better fortunes, and I rose from the table and went to the corner where I had left my portmanteau, and my heart almost leaped into my mouth when I saw it was gone; but at the same time, old Colin said, behind me, "Never fear, McDonell! You'll lose nothing here; I have fastened your things on the pony myself."
So out we went into the starlight, and there found the pony loaded with our belongings, and with short farewells set off with Mr. Gordon and our guides on our night march.
We could not speak of our feelings before Mr. Gordon, but I knew Father O'Rourke had enjoyed our entertainment as little as myself; so all night long we tramped, gathering such news as we might from our companions of the battle, which was vague but disheartening enough. At daybreak we arrived at a very considerable house—indeed, a gentleman's seat—which Mr. Gordon informed us was that of McKenzie of Dundonald, to whom we were recommended by old Colin Dearg, who was his uncle. Dundonald was at Inverness, whither he had gone that he might not be suspected of favoring the Prince's cause, but his lady was at home.
We led our pony into the court-yard, and there unloaded him, where Mr. Gordon declared he could accompany us no farther, his shoes being worn out.
"Very well," said I, "after we have a nap I will provide you with a second pair I have in my portmanteau."
But no; he would have them now, so he might try them on, and, accordingly, to humour him, I undid the upper straps of my portmanteau. Scarcely had I done so than I saw the leather had been slit.
My cry of dismay brought Father O'Rourke and Mr. Gordon over me at once, and with shaking hands I undid the straps and threw it open. The larger canvas-bag, which held the thousand guineas, was gone!
"O God in Heaven," I groaned, sinking on the ground, "that there are such damned scoundrels in this world!" And for the first time since a child I could not restrain myself, and burst into tears.
Father O'Rourke turned over the things, but I knew it was useless, and then said, in the strangest, dryest kind of voice:
"Well, I call on you to witness this happened in Scotland, and in the Highlands."
"Stop, sir," I cried; "this is intolerable! None of your insulting reflections on countries. There are more rogues hanged in Ireland than ever existed in Scotland."
"Yes, we find the quickest end to put them to is a rope's end."
"Look you here, sir, you have done nothing but insult me from the day you met me, and had you any right to the sword you carry, I would read you a lesson that would last you to the end of your life!"
"Thankful am I," he returned, as cool as ever, "that I never was under such a school-master. But let us spare our iron for those scoundrels, and especially for that smooth-tongued, red-headed, black-hearted Colin Dearg. If I could only have my left hand comfortable on his dirty throttle. I wouldn't need the other to feel his pulse with. Cheer up, Giovannini! If we've any luck we'll have it safely back, and you'll hand it to the Prince yet. Courage, my lad! Surely old campaigners like you and me are not to be outfaced by a lot of sneaking blackguards like these!"
"I'll lay my soul," I said, slowly, having forgotten all my rage—and I believe now Father O'Rourke only provoked me to distract my attention from my trouble—"I'll lay my soul that scoundrel Creach is at the bottom of this!"
"Like enough," he answered, for he had been back, though that smooth tongued fox denied it. "And what's more, Giovannini, I'd be curious to know if the Prince ever received the money he carried. I doubt it."
"So do I; but let us get back. First, though, I must put the rest of our money in safety. I must see Lady Dundonald."
"Faith, I don't suppose her ladyship is thinking of stirring for hours yet."
"Never mind, she must stir this time, for I cannot stand on ceremony."
So I sent a message to her chamber, with Captain McDonell's compliments—my rank as Lieutenant commanding my late Company entitled me to claim the title—and saying that he must instantly have speech with her.
She very civilly returned that I might use the freedom I asked; upon which I went to her bedroom, where I found her maid in attendance.
"Madam, only the distressing circumstances in which I am placed will excuse my intrusion, for which I offer my apologies." Thereupon I told the circumstances of the robbery. "I return at once with my comrade, Captain Lynch, and, please God, will recover the money; but I am quite aware, if circumstances so fall out, these rascals will not hesitate to add murder to robbery. Therefore, madam, I place these five hundred guineas in your honourable keeping. If I am killed, I bequeath them to you to be handed on to One you know of"—not caring to be more particular, for in such times "least said is soonest mended"—"if not, I will return to claim them. The only satisfaction I have is that we discovered the theft on arriving at your house, for I must certainly have blamed your people and not those passing under the denomination of officers and gentlemen. Madam, may God be with you, and I wish you a good-morning."
So I bowed myself out of the room, handing the gold to the maid.
I found our guides refused to return, and evidently Mr. Gordon had no stomach for the business, though he was clearly innocent. However, we offered so high a figure that at length one volunteered, and, wearied though we were, we set out.
We wasted neither time nor words by the way, until we came in sight of Laggy, when we called a council of war.
"My advice is to send the man in, call out the officers—particularly Colin Dearg, whom I would shoot on sight—and then make inquiries," said Father O'Rourke.
"You're learning the ways of the country quickly," I said, with some raillery. "No; we'll tax Colin Dearg with the theft, and pretend we do not suspect the others in the least, and so can urge them to use their influence with him to return the money. Much may be done by an appeal to their honour, if they think we don't suspect them."
"Then they've the finest sense of honour for a lot of truculent cowards I ever met with," he answered.
"Now there you are mistaken, Father O'Rourke; a Highlander may be truculent, but he is not of necessity a coward, and it is rarely that his sense of honour entirely deserts him."
"Not even when he is a thief?"
"No, not even then—if you know how to take him. And besides this, remember, if my people are still in arms, we will have that money wherever they have stored it, and a vengeance on every McKenzie in the country. As it is, no one knows of my return as yet, and if we are killed these scoundrels have only to produce the letters which they will find on me from the Duke of York, and not only escape all punishment, but probably claim a reward as well."
"Well, well, I agree. You know the breed better than I," he said; and so we came out in front of the house and sent our man in with word to Colin Dearg and the officers that we would speak with them.
With a little delay they appeared, and after them trooped out about thirty men, all armed.
"The top of the morning to you, gentlemen! What service can I and my poor house render you?" sneered that old scoundrel, Colin Dearg.
We saluted the officers, but took no notice of him or his words, and I addressed myself to them.
"Gentlemen, I have been robbed of one thousand guineas as we supped with you in this house. Were it a trifle of money of my own, I would rather lose it than bring any honourable man under so vile an imputation, but I was entrusted with the money for Prince Charles, God bless him! and I know I can rely on your aid in its recovery."
"'FINE WORDS! BRAVE WORDS!' HE SNEERED""'FINE WORDS! BRAVE WORDS!' HE SNEERED"
There was not a move, and I looked at each face in vain for some response, but they only glowered at me as if I had never spoken. Then throwing all pretence aside, I went on:
"Do I need to urge that with this money men can be kept together, who will otherwise scatter, if not for safety, at least to provide for families helpless and alone? That this money will keep them at their posts? That each guinea of it may mean a drop of the Prince's blood? And that the man who has robbed me of it to-day may be as guilty of murder before his God as if he had pistolled the Prince with his very hand? Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I would not plead for myself! I plead for One who has the highest claims over us all that one man can have over another. I ask your help in the name of God's anointed King, and in the name of the Prince, his son!" And there I stopped, for I had no other words in my heart.
Old Colin Dearg immediately broke into loud lamentations: his house was disgraced forever; he would never lift up his head again; never had such a thing happened to a McKenzie; and it was a black day that ever brought such a tale to his old ears, and so on. He would search the house till not a stone remained standing; he would strip his people of their skin, if need be, rather than such an imputation should lie against his honour, and that of his name; and forthwith disappeared among his people, pretending to search and question them.
We allowed this empty work to go on, until he saw fit to return with word that the money could not be found.
"No, it cannot be found, you lying, red-headed, old scoundrel," said I, "because you think yourself safe now! But you keep it at your peril! for a day will come when you will wish your thieving fingers were burned to the bone before they touched the Prince's gold, you double-dyed traitor!"
"Fine words! Brave words!" he sneered, planting himself well in front of his following, with arms a-kimbo. "A likely story that the likes of you, two broken men, skulking over here from France with baggages loaded with stones, trying your foreign thieves' tricks with quiet gentlemen, should have a thousand guineas! I don't believe a word of it!" And thereon he turned off into the house with a good show of carelessness, no doubt thinking it unwise to trust our patience any further.
"Now, gentlemen," said Big William Killcoy, "the country is unsafe, and you are far from home, but your road is open before you!"
"The game is up," I said to Father O'Rourke, in Italian, "we had better beat a retreat," which we did with sore hearts but in good order; and they said not a word further, nor did they attempt to molest us as we once more plodded the bitter miles that lay between us and Dundonald.
How Father O'Rourke and I fell in with broken men and saw the end of a Lost Cause.
The morning broke into as fine and merry a day as ever smiled on two miserable hearts; my own seemed dead in its utter brokenness. Besides this, we were so wearied with our long exertions that walking had become a pain. "What will the Duke think? What will the Duke think?" ran through my head without ceasing, for I could find no answer. But the worst of things must end at length, and we arrived at Dundonald.
Here we were welcomed by a hearty breakfast, and after asking for men who could be trusted, we posted two of them as sentries under Mr. Gordon, for we could not feel our lives were safe while in the McKenzie country; then throwing ourselves on a bed, dressed and armed as we were, we slept for some hours without moving.
When we awoke somewhat refreshed, we were able, through the kindness of Lady Dundonald, to procure guides on whose faithfulness she assured us we might rely. She further advised us to make our way to Loch Airkaig, in Lochiel's country, "for there you will find those you seek, though I am not supposed to know such things, and still less to be harbouring the Prince's men in Dundonald's absence," she said, smiling.
"Madam," said Father O'Rourke, "you have only done an act of Christian charity of which your own good heart must approve, and which has done much to comfort us in our own hard case. We have a right to look for kindness in woman, but we do not always look for sensibility such as you have evinced."
"Captain Lynch, you make me ashamed of my poor efforts, and I pray you and Captain McDonell to receive them as some token of my regret this thing should have happened among my own people."
"Madam," said I, "you cannot be held responsible for being a McKenzie."
"No more than you for being a dundering blockhead," said Father O'Rourke, rudely.
"That is merely his way of saying, madam," he continued, with a bow, "that your kindness to us will place you in our minds above all other women, whatever name they may ornament."
So thereupon I left the compliments to him, as I never made any pretence to skill in the art, and proceeded to get our baggage in order.
I received the bag of guineas again into my charge, and taking a respectful leave of this most amiable lady, we set forth.
We had no cause to complain of our guides, who were faithful and intelligent, and led us almost due south over wild and almost inaccessible mountains, for all the roads and even open places had to be avoided on account of parties of the English who were scouring the country in all directions; and, to our impatience, we wasted many days lying close when the danger was too pressing, so that we were nearly three weeks in making the journey.
At last we drew near to Loch Airkaig, and from where we looked down I saw a body of Highland troops. We came forward without hesitation, and, on answering their sentries in Gaelic, which had come back to me readily enough after a little practice, I satisfied them of our intents and they allowed us to approach.
"Whose command are you?" I asked.
"Young Coll Barisdale," was the answer.
"We are in luck; come on," I cried, "these are my own people, and are commanded by my cousin, Coll McDonell of Barisdale."
"I suppose you'll be related to nearly every man of note we'll meet in the country now," Father O'Rourke said, with a laugh.
"Very near," said I; "but come on."
As we approached my cousin came out to meet us, and I remembered his face though I had not seen him since I was a lad.
"Well, Barisdale, and how are you?" said I, not making myself known, but willing to put a joke on him.
"Sir, you have the advantage of me," says he, drawing himself up mighty stiff; "I do not remember that I ever had the honour of seeing you before."
"Man, man!" I said, "and is that the way you will be disowning your kith and kin—this comes of consorting with Princes," I said, aside, with a droll look to Father O'Rourke. "Things have come to a pretty pass when Barisdale does not know Scottos because he wears a foreign uniform."
At this he saw my end and received us most courteously. "Come away, come away, you and Captain Lynch, too! Well! well! to think of my meeting with Little John, grown up into a man. 'Tis enough to make me feel like a grandfather!" and we all sate down under some pines and heartily discussed the meat and drink his people set before us.
His news was bad enough, but I was greatly relieved to hear Mr. Secretary Murray was with Lochiel at his seat of Auchnacarrie, and that though Lochiel had been badly wounded through both legs, he was recovering, after having made the narrowest of escapes as he was borne thither. That a meeting of Lord Lovat, Lochiel, Glengarry, Glenbucket, and others had taken place at Murlagan, near the head of the Lake, on the fifteenth of May—we were now at the twentieth—that it was decided to gather what men could be found, and either make a stand or obtain terms from the Duke of Cumberland, now at Fort Augustus. Lochgarry, Colonel Donald McDonald, would be here to-morrow with the rest of Glengarry's regiment, and he, Coll, had just gathered these men in our own country, Knoidart, and was on his way slowly to the rendezvous at Glenmallie, but he could not count even on his own men with any certainty, as there had been no pay, and the want at home was heart-breaking. It was the same story that drove the loss of the money deeper and deeper into my heart like a crying that would not be stilled. He did not know what had become of the Prince, but assuredly he had not been killed in the battle, as he had passed by Loch-na-Nuagh, in Arisoig, on the twenty-first of last month, and that doubtless, ere this, Lochiel would have had tidings of him. I told Barisdale we would proceed on the morrow to Auchnacarrie and see Mr. Secretary Murray, and would then determine on our future movements.
After a long night, we took a guide and men to carry our baggage and set out—the first comfortable marching we had yet done, for the weather was fine and there was no more danger of meeting an English soldier here than in the Corso. We recovered our old spirits; indeed, we had done so the moment we fell in with our own people.
That same evening we arrived at Auchnacarrie, and were most kindly received by Lochiel, a perfect figure of a Highland gentleman; indeed, he reminded us much of our own gallant Colonel MacDonnell, who fell at Velletri. There he was, lying in a state most men would have found evil enough, with most likely a reward out for his capture, dead or alive, his fortunes broken and his house falling about his ears. But he banished all thought of his personal loss and suffering in his anxiety to fittingly provide for the entertainment of his guests, who were constantly arriving; to soothe those who were finding fault with everything from the beginning, and they were many; to hold together his men, who were desperate and almost at the point of mutiny for arrears of the pay so sadly needed; and, above all, to inspire somewhat of his own great spirit into the downhearted. Truly, a man one might worship!
I had almost a hesitation in meeting him, for it was my Uncle Scottos whom the Prince had sent to induce him to join his Cause, and I could not but reflect on what the outcome had been. But at his first words my apprehensions vanished. "Welcome, McDonell!" he said, "we have a common loss, and that is enough for friendship. Donald McDonell was as good a gentleman as ever drew sword, and I am proud to welcome his nephew."
Mr. Secretary Murray we found very different from the gentleman we had seen in the Santi Apostoli; he had lost all his fine airs, and, as Father O'Rourke said, had as much rattle to him as a wet bladder. From the bottom of my heart I wished that my business had been with his host instead of him. Indeed, I remember the curious feeling came over me that I would with as much confidence hand over the money to Creach as to him. Not that I then had any doubt of his honesty—for I will not pretend to be a prophet now that everything is over—but I had rather pin my faith to a stout scamp provided he have some sense of honour—and I have met few men without it in my time—than to an indifferent honest man who is badly frightened.
However, as I had my orders, and it was not for me to question them, I handed over the five hundred guineas with the Duke's letters and took his receipt for them, at the same time promising to give him a statement in writing of the robbery at Loch Broom, signed by Father O'Rourke and myself, in the morning.
"And now, Mr. Secretary, I would like to ask a private question," I said. "Did Creach—or Graeme, if you like—ever deliver the money he was entrusted with?"
"I do not know; I never received any," he answered, hurriedly, and then asked, anxiously, "have you heard anything of him?"
"Heard of him? Damn his smooth, white face! We have heard of him, and seen him, and had a taste of his quality, too! He was at the bottom of this robbery, or my name is not McDonell! And hark you, Mr. Secretary. Your head, and better heads too, I will add without offence, are not worth a tallow dip while that scoundrel is above ground. Think you vermin of his kind will run any risk while safety is to be bought by a little more of his dirty work? He will sell you and Lochiel, and, God help him, the Prince too, if he has opportunity, and you only have yourselves to thank for it."
His own face was as white as Creach's by this time, and, seeing nothing was to be gained by going farther, now that I had relieved my mind, I left him to sleep on the pillow I had furnished and returned to Lochiel's, where I found him and Father O'Rourke in as lively a conversation as if there were not a trouble within or without the four walls.
"Well, McDonell," he said, "I have to thank you for the day you joined forces with Father O'Rourke and marched on my poor house of Auchnacarrie. 'Tis the best reinforcement I have had for many a long day."
"Faith, 'tis a long day since we began campaigning together," laughed the priest. "It all began in the inn at Aquapendente," and thereupon he must tell the story of our adventure with Creach, at which Lochiel laughed heartily; indeed, Father O'Rourke's stories seemed to jump with his humour, and he was never tired of his company during the time we spent with him.
A day or so afterwards, it was proposed that I should cross the Lake with Mr. Secretary Murray to hold a consultation with Lord Lovat, at Glendesherrie, bearing messages from Lochiel. Thither we went and found an old man bent with illness and his own weight, and of a temper most uncertain. Indeed, he did nothing but grumble and swear most of the time we were there, and at first would return no sensible answer to the projects we laid before him.
"Why in the name of all that is evil do you come to me with your fiddle-faddle plans when I am ready to step into my grave?" he grumbled. "Whom am I to believe? Where in the devil are the sixteen thousand men that were coming from France? Where are the ships with supplies and money that were only waiting for a fair wind? Has no wind blown off the coast of France since it blew the Prince here last July with a beggarly following not fit for a private gentleman? Had he come absolutely alone it might have been better, for then he would have been without some of his rattle-brained councillors, not even excepting yourself, Mr. Murray of Broughton," the old man said, with a sneer and a low bow that brought the blood in a rush to Mr. Secretary's face. "If even money had been sent, something might have been done—might be done even yet; but here are these men clamouring for return to their homes, where their wives and little ones have been starving and dying for want of support, and this, too, when no man can say how long his head will be above his shoulders. Pay the men who are here! Let them send something to their homes in the hills, and I'll answer for it they will stand even yet. But, my God! how can you ask human creatures to do more than they have done, with starvation at home as well as in their own bellies?
"And what has your Prince done? Pranced and prinked at balls, and chucked silly wenches under the chin. Listened to the blatherings of Irish adventurers, greedy only for themselves. Estranged, if not insulted, every man of weight and sensibility. Made paper proclamations and scattered paper titles that will rob the men who receive them of life and lands and everything else."
"Not everything, my Lord," I objected, for I was tired of this long tirade; "honour is left."
"Honour!" he snorted, "and who are you to talk of honour? A fine specimen you have given us of it, not to carry a sum of money that I would have entrusted to one of my drovers."
"I know nothing of your drovers, my Lord, and I beg leave to withdraw, as I cannot stay and listen to insults, which your age and infirmities prevent my answering as they deserve."
"You can answer them till you're black in the face, if that's any satisfaction to you! And, what's more, if you will but provide me with a new backbone and another pair of legs, nothing would give me a greater pleasure than to see some of your new-fangled tricks at the fence. Tell me now," he went on, in an entirely new tone, "did you ever learn anything abroad better than your Uncle Scottos taught you at home?"
"Never," I answered, somewhat softened. And the strange part is that before I parted from his Lordship I was only full of admiration for his courage and address; for, now that he had blown off all his black vapours, no one could be more engaging, and he discussed each plan with a keen insight that was admirable. He questioned me much on Rome and my experiences, and was very apt with his bits of Latinity, which I made no effort to cap, I think a little to his disappointment, until I saw that he began to weary, for his infirmity was visible upon him. So we took leave, and I shook hands for the first and last time with Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat.
We returned to Auchnacarrie that same evening, and the next day one Donald McLeod came and was closeted for a long while with Lochiel and Mr. Secretary Murray. When he left, I was told he was from the Prince, who was in a safe place, and that my letters were confided to his care. I never dreamed at the time of enquiring about the money I had handed Murray, supposing it had gone too, but long afterwards was told by McLeod himself that Mr. Secretary had informed him that he had only sixty louis d'ors, which was barely sufficient for himself, so he went back to the Prince without a shilling of the money that the Duke had raised with so much pains, and which I had so hardly delivered.
"THE LAST STAND FOR PRINCE CHARLES WAS AT AN END""THE LAST STAND FOR PRINCE CHARLES WAS AT AN END"
At the time I discovered this, I put Mr. Secretary down as low as Creach; but feeling then ran high against him, and nothing was too black to lay at his door; but since then I have considered it like enough that old fox, Lovat, may have wheedled it out of him, for he was in such miserable fear that he was easy to work upon; and, at all events, the man had quite enough on his weary shoulders without this addition to carry about through the rest of his miserable life. And if I am right that Lovat got it, it was a rare turn of justice that Mr. Secretary should be the one who swore away his life.
At daybreak—it was the 27th of May—we were expecting to be awakened by the General Gathering on the pipes, but instead we were awakened by the warning notes of the "Cogadh no Sith" (War or Peace) and rushed out to hear the news that Lord London was advancing upon us, hardly a quarter of a mile distant. Our eight hundred men were gathered at once, and Lochiel, being borne by four stout Highlanders, made his escape in a boat which was kept for such an emergency, while we set out in all haste for the west end of Loch Airkaig, which we reached just in time to escape another body of soldiers sent to intercept us.
At dusk we separated with sad farewells but brave wishes, and by bodies, which quickly dwindled smaller and smaller, every man took his own way, and the last stand for Prince Charles was at an end.
How I fared in my attempt to recover the stolen money, and how Father O'Rourke and I came face to face with unlooked-for company in the Inn at Portree.
We, in company with my kinsmen, pushed our way rapidly towards Knoidart. Although it had been perfectly plain to us both—for Father O'Rourke had picked up no mean bit of soldiering in his campaigning—that any successful stand was out of the question—for the cordon was every day tightening round Lochiel, and, worse than this, some of the principals, like Lovat, were disheartened, and only anxious to make their peace on any terms—Murray, who was to some extent the representative of the Prince, was badly frightened, and most of the Highlanders were wearying to return home. This was all patent to us, and yet we could not help feeling a sense of dejection with the others, most of whom knew no reason whatever for anything they did, beyond that they were ordered to it by their chiefs.
But nothing like a spice of danger will cheer a lagging spirit, and for the first twelve hours we had enough of it and to spare. But though at times nearly surrounded, being able to scatter on any approach, we had an advantage over what troops we met, and were not slow to avail ourselves of our opportunities. "Faith, I've not done so much running away since I was at school!" Father O'Rourke declared; and, indeed, to see him one would swear he had the heart of a school-boy in him still.
However, we were soon beyond actual danger, and now made our way openly enough, until one evening we stood on the highway, and before us I pointed out to Father O'Rourke the chimnies of Crowlin, my father's house, which I had left as a boy of twelve, six years before.
"THERE! THAT IS CROWLIN""THERE! THAT IS CROWLIN"
Eighteen may not seem a great age to my reader, and does not to me to-day, when I can cap it with fifty years and more, but on that June day in the year '46, when I stood and knocked the dust of the road off my shoes, I felt like a man who had spent a lifetime away from all he had known as a boy, and my heart grew so big within me that I could hardly say the words, "There! that is Crowlin."
"Aye, Giovannini, and the man is blessed that has a Crowlin to come back to," Father O'Rourke said, laying his hand on my shoulder.
"Oh, I don't mean that, Father; 'tis a poor place enough," I answered, for fear he should think I was vaunting it.
"And I didn't mean that either, Giovannini," he said, smiling. "But let us be going."
So on we went, each familiar object breaking down the first feeling of separation until the years between vanished before a voice within, saying, "I saw you yesterday! I saw you yesterday!" as we passed the big rock by the bend of the road, and followed the little path with the same turns across the fields and over the brook, with the same brown water slipping between the same stepping-stones. "You crossed o'er yesterday! You crossed o'er yesterday!" it seemed to say; and so on, until the dogs rushed out barking at us from the house itself.
"Go in first, lad—go in. I'll stay and make friends with the collies," said Father O'Rourke, seating himself, and I left him.
I found my father sadly changed; much more so than I had gathered from the news I had received; indeed, it was easy to see that his disease was fast nearing its end. He was greatly brightened by my return, and heartily welcomed Father O'Rourke, the more so when he learned his true character, and they took to each other at once.
When I saw the great, bare house—all the more forlorn for the lot of rantipole boys and girls, children of my poor Uncle Scottos—wanting the feeling of a home, that somehow seems absent without a woman about—for my sister Margaret was the same as adopted by Lady Jane Drummond—and my poor father waiting his end among his books, alone, year in year out, I first realized something of what my absence had meant to him, and of the effort it had cost him to send me away.
It was decided we should remain where we were for the present, until something definite was heard from the Prince, which might lead to further action. As it would only have courted danger, which I hold a man has no right to do, we put off our uniforms and soon were transformed by the Highland dress.
To me it was nothing, this change to a kilt and my own short hair, replacing the bag wig with a blue bonnet, but Father O'Rourke would fain have returned to the cassock he had left behind him on board theSwallow, and was most uncomfortable for many days until he learned to manage the kilt "with decency, if not with grace," as he said himself.
"Oh, Isaiah, Isaiah!" he groaned; "little did I dream you were preaching at me when you commanded, 'Uncover thy locks, make bare the leg' (Discooperi humerum, revela crura)," and he would pretend to cover up his great knees with his short kilt, to the delight of the children, who were hail-fellow-well-met with him from the hour of his arrival.
Many was the pleasant talk he had with my father, who was full of his remembrances of Rome and the College he so loved in the via delle Quattro Fontane. With him he stopped all his tomfooleries, and I was surprised to see what excellent reason he would discourse, and take a pleasure in it too. But it must not be taken he only amused himself and my father, for more than one weary journey did he make into the hills to minister to some wounded unfortunate there in hiding, sore needing the spiritual consolation he alone could carry. As the "Sagairt an t-Saighdeir" (the Soldier Priest) he was soon known and demanded far and near, and no request ever met with a refusal, no matter what danger might offer.
I may mention it was now the common people began to speak of me as "Spanish John," a name that has stuck fast to the present; indeed, such names serve a purpose useful enough where a whole country-side may have but one family name, and I can assure you, the McDonells never wanted for Johns. There were Red Johns, and Black Johns, and Fair Johns, and Big Johns, and Johns of every size and colour and deformity. Had they known a little more geographically, they might have come nearer the mark; but it is not for me to quarrel with the name they saw fit to fasten upon me, as most of them knew as little difference between Spain and Italy as between Mesopotamia and Timbuctoo.
The English were about at times, and more than once we had to take to the heather, and lie skulking for days together in the hills; but no harm came to Crowlin. Indeed, I thought but little of the ravages committed, though they have been made much of since, for waste many a mile of country had I helped to lay, and that a country like to the Garden of Eden compared with this tangle of heath and hill. It was only the fortune of war; and, after all, there was many a one who lived on without being disturbed, always ready to lend a hand to those less fortunate.
"MANY WAS THE PLEASANT TALK HE HAD WITH MY FATHER""MANY WAS THE PLEASANT TALK HE HAD WITH MY FATHER"
Early in June we heard the news of the capture of old Lord Lovat, in Loch Morar, and before the end of the month that Mr. Secretary Murray had also fallen into the hands of the Government, About this time too we heard some ugly reports of one Allan McDonald Knock, of Sleat, in the Isle of Skye, and, though a cousin of our own, it was said he was the head of the informers and spies, and from the description we suspected that Creach was his coadjutor.
As soon as our country began to get more settled, I resolved to go North and see if I could come on any chance of recovering the stolen money; for now the Prince would need it more than ever, as the last news we had of him was in South Uist, in great straits for every necessity. Accordingly, I set out alone, and, on arriving in the McKenzie country, I put up for a night with a Mr. McKenzie, of Torridon, who had been out as a Lieutenant-Colonel in my cousin Coll Barisdale's regiment.
I made some inquiries, and found old Colin Dearg was still in the country, but was careful not to disclose the object of my visit, which was an easy enough matter, as our talk ran on the troubles of our friends and the Prince.
The next morning, while the lady of the house was ordering breakfast, I went for a solitary stroll, to turn over my plans and decide how I might best approach the matter. I had not gone far before I met a well-dressed man, also in Highland clothes, taking the morning air, and with him, after civil salutations, I fell into discourse about former happenings in the country.
What was my astonishment to hear him of his own accord begin the story of the French officers who came to Loch Broom, and how the thousand guineas had been cut out of their portmanteau by Colin Dearg and the others, Major William McKenzie of Killcoy, and Lieutenant Murdock McKenzie, from Dingwall, both officers of Lord Cromarty's regiment.
"A pretty mess they made of the matter," he said, "and were well despised through all the country for their behaviour; but had they only taken my advice there would never have been a word about it."
"Indeed!" said I, astonished beyond measure. "And pray, sir, what did you advise?"
"Och, I would have cut off both their heads and made a sure thing of it, and there never would have been another word about the matter."
I looked at him with a good deal of curiosity, for I can assure you it gives a man a strange feeling to hear his taking off talked over to his face as a matter of course.
"Who were they," I asked, "and from what country?"
"The oldest, and a stout-like man, was Irish. The youngest, and very strong-like, was a McDonell, of the family of Glengarry," he answered.
"How did they know the money was there? Did these officers speak of it?" I asked, thinking I might as well get at the whole story.
"No," said he, "but another officer, who had been with old Colin since the battle, went on board their ship when they landed and told him the youngest one was sure to have money."
"Was his name Creach or Graeme," I went on.
"I don't just remember, but his face was as white as a sick woman's," was the answer, which fixed my man for me beyond a doubt.
"And what was done with the money?"
"Colin Dearg got three hundred guineas, William Killcoy three hundred, and Lieutenant Murdock McKenzie three hundred."
"And what of the other hundred?"
"Two men who stood behind the Irish Captain with drawn dirks, ready to kill him had he observed Colin Dearg cutting open the portmanteau, got twenty-five guineas each, and I and another man, prepared to do the like to the young Captain McDonell, got the same," he answered, very cool, as if it were a piece of business he did every day.
"Now, are you telling the truth?" I asked, sternly.
"As sure as I shall answer for it on the Last Day," he said, warmly.
"And do you know to whom you are speaking?"
"To a friend, I suppose, and one of my own name."
"No, you damned rascal!" I roared, and caught him by the throat with my left hand, twitching out my dirk in my right, and throwing him on his back. "I am that very McDowell you stood ready to murder!" And I was within an ace of running him through the heart, when I suddenly reflected that I was quite alone, in a place where I was in a manner a stranger, and among people whom I had every reason to distrust. I got up, thrust my dirk into its sheath, and walked off without a word, leaving the fellow lying where I had thrown him.
I met Mr. McKenzie in the entry, who asked me where I had been.
"Taking a turn," said I.
"Have you met with anything to vex you?"
"No," said I, smiling.
"Sir," said he, "I ask your pardon, but you went out with an innocent and harmless countenance, and you come in with a complexion fierce beyond description."
"Come, come, Mr. McKenzie," said I, laughing, "none of your scrutinizing remarks; let us have our morning."
"With all my heart," said he, pouring out the whiskey.
I made some cautious inquiries about the man of my morning adventure, to which Torridon replied he was a stranger to the place, but he believed him to be probably a soldier in Lord Cromarty's regiment.
As soon as I could decently do so, I took leave of my host and hastened to put into execution a plan I had formed.
My cousin John, Glengarry, was the head of our family and my chief, and to him I determined to apply. I therefore set out at once for Invergarry, where I found the castle entirely dismantled and abandoned, so that when the Duke of Cumberland appeared somewhat later he found only bare walls to destroy; but destroy them he did, so completely that he did not even leave a foundation.
I found Glengarry easily enough, living in retirement in a safe place among his own people, and paid my respects to him with great good will; indeed, few chiefs had greater claims than he.
His father, Alastair Dubh, was one of the best warriors of his day, and had performed feats at Killiecrankie that a man might well be proud of. There, too, the chief's elder brother, Donald Gorm, fell gloriously, having killed eighteen of the enemy with his own sword.
His eldest son, Alastair, was now in the Tower of London, a prisoner, and Æneas, his second, had been accidentally shot at Falkirk six months before, whilst in arms for the Prince.
He, himself, had not been out, but no more had Clanranald; indeed, in many cases it was thought best the heads of the families should not be involved, in the event of the rising not proving favourable; but this turned out to be a sorry defence in more cases than one, amongst which was Glengarry's own.
After hearing my story, he said, laughing, "Man! but this would make a pretty quarrel with the McKenzies if we only had these troubles off our hands. I would send with you men enough to turn their whole country upside down, and you might consider the money as safe as if you had it in your own sporran. But what can I do? You dare not take any body of men across the country, and, more than that, I haven't them to send, even if you could. But let us sleep over it, and we will see what can be done in the morning."
I told him my plan was to go straight to Dundonald, who was an honourable man, and through him try and work on his uncle, old Colin Dearg; and could he but provide me with five or six men, by way of a life-guard, it was all I would ask.
When we parted on the morrow, Glengarry said: "There are your men! but promise me there will be no lives wasted unless something can be gained. I have given you five picked men, and they must not be thrown away; but if the money can be got, and fighting is wanted, you have five better swords at your back than ever were dreamed of among the McKenzies; and whether you send them all back or not, I'll be satisfied so long as you make good use of them."
We made our way with all possible speed and precaution until we arrived at Dundonald's, and with him I was well pleased, more particularly at his reception of my plans, and his promise to send for old Colin and have him meet us at a place appointed.
Thither we all repaired, and after inquiring from Dundonald the particulars of the house, which I found simple enough, for it was all one floor without partitions and but a single door, I laid out my plan of action to my men.
Should old Colin keep the appointment, it would most probably be after dark, and he was sure to come with a strong following, more particularly if he suspected I was in the matter, which well might be the case after my meeting of the previous week. So I determined as follows: my men should seat themselves just within the door, not allowing any one to separate them, and see they kept their arms clear that they might be drawn the moment I made the signal. At this, the two I named were to keep the door, and the other three pass out and at once fire the house at both ends, and then return to back up the others at the door, where they could easily cut down the McKenzies as they attempted to make their way out.
As for me, I would seat myself between Dundonald and old Colin Dearg, and at the first serious offensive motion I would do for both of them at once with my dirk and pistol, knock out the light, and try to make for the door. If I chanced to get there alive, they would know my voice, as I would shout our rallying cry, "Fraoch Eilean!" but if I failed, to see that every soul within perished along with me. There was a good chance of escaping, as I held the start of the fight in my own hands, and I counted that between the surprise and the dark I ran no risk beyond the ordinary. I regretted that my plan should include Dundonald, but as he was a McKenzie that could not be helped.
I was right in every particular, for it was dark when old Colin appeared, and he was followed by forty or fifty men, carrying, apparently, only short sticks, but under their coats I perceived they had their dirks ready. They entered the house, and, without giving them a moment to settle or to disconcert our plan, I entered boldly and seated myself as I proposed, my men keeping together near the door.
After a short pause, every one eying me and mine, and we returning it, though without offence, Dundonald mentioned the cause of our visit in as becoming a manner as the subject would admit of, speaking in English, so that what was offensive might not be understood by the men.
"And why, Dundonald, should you come inquiring of me about a matter of which I know nothing?" asked Colin Dearg, in a silky voice, like the old fox he was.
"Now, Colin Dearg McKenzie," said I, shortly, "I have neither time nor stomach for smooth words. You cut that gold out of my portmanteau with your own hands and kept three hundred guineas of it, while the other six went to your fellow-thieves. I have it from the wretch you bribed with twenty-five more to murder me if I saw you at your dirty work. So none of your lies, but make what restitution you can, and prove you have some honesty left in you by handing over the Prince's money."
The old man never made an attempt to defend himself, but after a minute said, sulkily, "Och, well! There's no use making such a pother about the matter now; the money is gone, and I cannot give it back if I would, so there is an end of it all."
"No," I said, in Gaelic, so all might understand; "because the thief has spent the money that does not end the matter."
"What more would you have?" asked the old man, still sulky.
"The gallows!" I said, firmly; and with a growl the crowd caught at their dirks; but at the same moment I whipped out my dirk and pistol, and, covering both old Colin and Dundonald, swore I would kill them both if the first step was made towards me, and, as I spoke, my men took possession of the door.
"For the love of God, my children, stand you still—stand you still!" screamed old Colin, and not a man moved.
Every man in the room was on his feet, crowding towards the table where we stood, I facing them all, holding both Dundonald and old Colin as my sureties at the point of my weapons, my men keeping the door as I knew, though I dared not so much as glance towards them, and every one strained up to the point of outburst, only waiting for the next move.
I chose to keep the lead in my own hands. "Now, then! What have you got to say for yourself?" I demanded from old Colin.
"I might say I have only taken my own," he returned, with amazing quiet. "But 'tis ill talking with a dirk against one's ribs. Move it a little from me and let me talk as a gentleman should," he went on, with a coolness that brought forth a murmur of admiration from his people.
"Your own?" I cried, amazed at his audacity.
"My own, certainly; and not only mine, but my children's as well! Think you a few paltry gold pieces will pay the debt of the Prince towards me and mine? We have given what your gold is as dirt beside! We have given lives that all the gold under Heaven cannot buy back. We have broken hearts for his sake that all the louis d'ors in France cannot mend. I and mine have ruined ourselves beyond redemption for his Cause, and, when we have winter and starvation before us, why should I not take what comes to my hand for those nearest to me, when it can be of no use elsewhere?"
There came answering groans and sighs of approval from his following at this fine-sounding bombast, and I was at a loss how to cut it short or see my way to an end, when, taking advantage of my distraction, he suddenly gave some signal, and, quick as thought, a blade flashed out beside him, and I only saved myself by a chance parry with my dirk.
Then I lost control of myself. "Take that, you Red Fox!" I shouted, and, raising myself, I struck Colin Dearg McKenzie above the breastbone, so that he went down under my hand like an ox that is felled. With my pistol-hand I knocked over the only light, and jumped for the door, shouting "Fraoch Eilean!" and before they could recover, I had passed out under the swords of my men.
"Fire the thatch now! Fire the thatch!" I shouted; but even as I spoke the red flame began running up the roof, and our men joined us again.
Every heart was beating and every arm tingling to begin, for we knew we could hold the door against any number, but, to our surprise, no man attempted to make his way out, though the dry thatch was beginning to crackle and discommode us with its glare. There was a silence like the dead within.
I approached the door. "Dundonald! What is the matter with you, within? Come out yourself alone, and I give you my word of honour you shall go unharmed. Then let the others come as they can."
"McDonell!" he called back. "Colin is dead. They have no heart for fighting."
"Then let them burn! But come you out!" for I could not bear that he, a gentleman, should perish with cattle such as these.
"That I will never do! We either go out together, or my blood will be on your hands with theirs!" he answered.
"My God, Dundonald! What folly is this?" I cried, much distressed at his obstinacy. But there came no sound save the crackling of the thatch.
My men said never a word; it was my private quarrel, and though I knew they would be satisfied with whatever I might decide, I was in a sore quandary what to do, and in my perplexity I leaned towards mercy.
"Dundonald! If they will say together, 'He was a thief and came to his death by my hand honestly,' and if you will come out to us, we will stand by and let them depart unharmed. There is no time to lose; the roof is wellnigh gone!"
At this there was a babel of tongues within, while my men grunted their approval behind me. Then came a cry from the house: "Red Colin was wrong, and came to his end fairly and honestly at the hand of Little John McDonell!"
"That will do!" I cried. "Come you out first, and the others may follow!"
We stood off to one side, prepared against any sudden rush; but Dundonald stepped out of the door alone, sheathing his sword as he did so, and placed himself in our midst. Then appeared four men bearing the stalwart body of old Colin Dearg between them in a plaid, and after trooped the others. They passed us without a word or look, and kept on their way in silence up towards the hills, not even turning when the roof crashed in, sending a shower of sparks and flame into the darkness overhead.
"Dundonald," I said, when the night had shut them out from us, "I trust you bear me no ill-will for this business? My hand could not reason when it baulked his last treachery."
"No, McDonell," he answered, with much openness, "he was my kinsman and I owed him my support, but, now that he is gone, I will never lay his going against you." And thereupon we shook hands and parted very good friends.
On my return to Glengarry, I was supported by his approval of my action. And, after giving suitable acknowledgments to the men, dismissed them and made my way back to Crowlin, where I found them much disturbed at my long absence, and fearful I had fallen into the hands of the English.
It was now about the beginning of July, and hearing that the Prince would most likely be in Skye, Father O'Rourke and I determined we should take our way thither to volunteer our services, and accordingly took leave of my father. He was most willing we should go, and never complained of our leaving, although we could see that he was daily drawing nearer to his end. But he was anxious about our apprehension, as many had been taken of late. Major Ferguson had laid waste the lands of Lansdale, and, among others, my cousin Coll Barisdale's fine house, Traigh, was burned to the ground. This my father felt keenly, and felt too that the next blow might fall even nearer home.
So we crossed over, intending to make for Trotternish, on Lord McDonald's estate, but heard news soon after landing that the Prince had gone on, probably to the main-land.
However, we kept on, and after spending the first night with Rory McDonald of Fortymenruck, pushed as far as Portree, as I thought Father O'Rourke might as well see the principal place in the Island.
When we reached Portree, we went into a tavern to obtain refreshment after our march of twenty miles, and desired the landlord to fetch us something to drink. Upon this he informed us there were gentlemen in the next room who would like to have the pleasure of our company if we thought proper to indulge them. I inquired their names, and, on hearing them, desired him to present our compliments and we would join their party.
In the next room we found nine or ten gentlemen, some of whom I knew and others I had heard of, and, after partaking of what they had, I called for more liquor to our account. While the landlord was preparing this the door opened, and who should appear on the threshold but Captain Creach. At the sight of us his white face turned even a shade paler; however, I could not but admire the address with which he recovered himself and entered with perfect assurance, greeting the company, all of whom evidently knew him, calling him Graeme, as usual. My first impulse was to seize and denounce him before them all, but Father O'Rourke's hand was on me under the table, and I reflected that my mission from the Duke not being yet at an end, I was still bound in my word; so I managed to conceal my feelings, and when he was introduced I bowed as if I had never seen him before, which he returned as collected as a tax-gatherer.
What I had called for now came in, but I noticed that Creach did no more than touch his lips to his glass, upon which one of the company rallied him, and I heard him say he did not choose to drink more.
"Why is that, sir?" I said, pretending to be somewhat gone in liquor.
"I try to avoid giving offence," he said, very pointedly, "and sometimes if I am warmed with liquor I am apt to blunder out something which might not please."
"Oh, I am not particular as to my company, Mr. Creach," I said, hoping he might take me up on the name, but he made no move. "I am a peaceable man myself, and promise you not to take offence at anything, provided you apologize immediately afterwards. Now, here's a health I cannot let pass—to my host of last night, Rory McDonald Fortymenruck!"
He drank with the rest.
I began again at once. "Here's to the Prince and his better fortunes, and a curse on any one who plays him false!"
He drank this too.
I was thinking out something, more pointed, when he stopped me by asking why I did not propose the health of my cousin, Allan McDonald Knock.
Here was an opening as good as another, and I took it.
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"He is, sir."
"Then, sir, I do not drink to him, because he lies under grave imputations."
"And pray, sir, what may they be?" he asked.
"Oh, I only have them on hearsay," I said, drawing him on.
"And what do you hear?"
"Only that he is a coward and an informer, and, of course, a scoundrel, whose health any gentleman would refuse to drink," I answered, mighty cool.
"What!" said he; "do you really believe him a coward?"
"That is his general character."
"Then, sir," said he, "if you will send him a challenge I will bear it, and if he will not fight you, I will."
"Oh, do not trouble yourself. If you are anxious for fighting, you have a sword by your side, and so have I. Why lose any time? Out with you at once, and I will give you all the fighting you can stomach between this and doomsday," and I made as if I would rise.
As a matter of fact, I would not then have fought with the reptile for worlds, but since I could not lay hands on him, it was some little satisfaction to outface him before his company, and I made no objections when the others interfered, but only thought that Mr. Creach had added a long bit to his reckoning when he asked me to drink to the health of Allan Knock in the inn at Portree.
How Father O'Rourke kept the Black Pass; of the escape of the Prince and my own mischance that followed, but of how the Day of Reckoning between me and Creach came at last.
We felt that Skye was not the safest place for us after my brush with Creach, for, with such a creature in leash with Allan Knock, no decent man's liberty was worth a rush in days when a whisper was sufficient to secure his arrest, so we made our trip a short one and returned to the main-land.
We and all felt relieved that the Prince had returned from the Islands, whither he had gone much against the wishes of his best friends, and his escape might have been effected long since had he not taken wrong advice from those who knew nothing of the country. And if I may criticize, without blame however, His Royal Highness, perhaps from too great an openness in his own temper, was not a discerning judge of those about him, many of whom were men of no character whatever, and to-day I can see the truth of Father O'Rourke's words which I had resented so heartily in Rome.
But such advantage as he now gained from being amongst his friends was in a measure balanced by the nearness of his enemies, and he was obliged to lie exceeding close, and at times ran narrow chances of capture. This was the more evident as but few now knew his whereabouts, and while on the Islands his movements were known so wide that at times I have been tempted to think it was possible the English were not in truth over anxious for his capture. Indeed, I cannot think what they would have done with him had he fallen into their hands. To execute him would be an impossibility, for we felt such a murder as that of King Charles was something the civilized world would never see again, and the horrid crimes of the French in these last days were as then undreamed of; and to imprison him would have been to place him on the highest possible pinnacle of martyrdom, the last thing his enemies could desire.
Be this as it may, we found the activity of the troops had been greatly increased, and it was only with the greatest caution we could visit Crowlin; so we kept moving about the country, seldom passing two nights in the same place, keeping as near the coast as possible to be on the outlook for friendly ships.
We soon had evidence, too, that Creach was at work, for even before we left Skye it was clear we were spied upon, and now it was only the scarcity of troops that prevented him and Allan Knock from carrying out their private revenge. We were dogged night and day, and knew an attempt would be made upon us the moment the necessary men could be spared for such service.
It was on the first of September that we got news of a vessel off the coast, near Loch Carron, where we were then hiding on a property which belonged to our family, and we forthwith sent word to Glenaladale—Alexander McDonald—who had just left the Prince in charge of Cluny Macpherson among the hills, that all was ready. We made a night visit to Crowlin and bade good-bye to my father, whom I never expected to see again on earth, while over the sleeping children Father O'Rourke said a prayer in Irish, and left his blessing on the house. We slipped out into the night again and made our way to the coast to find that the vessel had gone out to sea, but had signalled she would stand in again after dark the next day.
This we spent most anxiously among the hills. We knew we were watched in every movement and an attempt would be made to prevent our embarking, if possible; and, to add to our anxiety, word was brought from Glenaladale saying he had no knowledge of where the Prince was, as Cluny had moved away from the hiding-place he last knew, but that we were all to be aboard and lie to until the last possible hour in the morning, and then, if he did not appear with the Prince, to sail without him, instructing any other vessel spoken, to stand in farther to the south near Arisoig, so he might prepare and get word into the hills in time.
Shortly before midnight we saw the signal of a red light low on the water shewn twice for a moment, and made our way to the beach, where the boats met us, and we embarked without molestation. We found her to be theAlerteprivateer, and her Captain fully prepared to run any reasonable risk to bring off the Prince. We met with a numerous company of gentlemen and some ladies on board, who had been picked up at different points along the coast, and together we watched in the greatest anxiety for some signal from the shore; but our hopes vanished as the dawn grew stronger in the east, until we could not justify a longer delay, and made ready to return in our boat, which we had kept alongside. Such was their devotion that some, when they heard of our resolution, were only deterred from joining us by my assurance that I was charged with a special commission by the Duke, and their presence would only endanger the safety of the Prince as well as our own; on this they allowed us to depart, with many a prayer both in Gaelic and English. With dull anger in our hearts we climbed the hills, eying all the cover whence we knew false eyes were following us; but not a bush moved, nor was there a sound, as we lay on the open hill-top and from our old hiding-place saw the sun redden the sails of the privateer as she stood on her way towards France and safety.
Our first thought was to get back to Crowlin, for, now the Prince had failed to appear, we held our duty was to my father until another opportunity offered.
We were quite unable to approach the house in daylight, as it lay in the hollow well open to observation; and when we at last made our way down and entered, we were shocked at the change that had taken place in my father's condition.
"It was a kind Providence that led us back, Giovannini," said Father O'Rourke, as we knelt beside the plainly dying man, "for these hours will mean much to him and to you afterwards."
When my father recovered from the shock of seeing us, it was with the greatest thankfulness I saw Father O'Rourke go into him alone, and when he appeared again his face was that of the holy man he was.
"SHE STOOD ON HER WAY TOWARDS FRANCE AND SAFETY""SHE STOOD ON HER WAY TOWARDS FRANCE AND SAFETY"
"Now, Giovannini," he said, "I am going to your cousin"—this was Dr. McDonald, of Kylles—"for I have done all that is in my power for your father. He wants you now, my son, and he wants such relief as the Doctor may perhaps give him."
"But, Father," I said, "that is impossible; you do not know the road over the hills well enough, and the country is alive with troops you can never pass."
"Nonsense," he said, with a short laugh, "I can pass anything on a night such as this. Let me take Neil with me, and we will be back before daybreak."
Knowing that argument was useless, I sent for Neil, as good and safe a man as there was in the country, and who spoke English perfectly, gave him his directions to go by the Ghlach Dubh—the Black Pass—saw they both were well armed and supplied with cakes and whiskey, bade them god-speed, and then turned back into the dark house.
The poor little ones, soon to be fatherless for a second time, were sleeping quietly, knowing nothing of the great sorrow creeping over them, and I passed on into the chamber of death, sending old Christie, the servant, to keep her lonely watch in the kitchen.
That last night alone with my father is as distinct to me to-day as if it were but just passed; it is full of things that are sacred—too sacred to be written about—and at the change of the night into day, I closed his eyes and prayed over his remains in peace.
When I could, I rose, and, calling Christie, opened the door softly and stole out into the cool, clearing morning air. It was so still that a great peace seemed over everything, and only the cheep of distant birds came to me; but soon I made out a moving figure on the hill-side, and, remembering Father O'Rourke with a start, I set off and hurried to meet him. But as I drew nearer I could make out that it was Neil alone, and hurried forward much alarmed, and, as I saw him better, my fears grew.
He was running at his best, without plaid or bonnet, and when we met all he could gasp out was, "Oh! the Soldier Priest! the Soldier Priest!"
"Stop, man!" I said, sternly. "Neil, Neil! What new trouble do you bring?"
"He is dead!" he cried, with a groan. "No, not dead, God forgive me! but dying there alone, and him the finest swordsman I ever stood beside."
"Come!" I said, and he turned with me, and as we went he gave out his story in gasps:
"The Doctor was not at home. Skulking in the hills again. We left our message and started back. Just at the top of the Black Pass they met us, and he never thinking of them at all! An officer and six men. We were too quick for them, though, and had our swords out and our backs to the hill-side before they could stop us.
"They called to him to surrender, taking him to be you.
"'Come, come, Mr. McDonell!' says the officer. 'Give up your sword like a gentleman!'
"And oh! Master John! With his death before him he laughed. And what do you think were the words he said? 'Sir,' says he, 'I never knew a McDonell yet who could give up his sword like a gentleman!'
"And then he warned the officer to be off and leave such work to the likes of Allan Knock and Creach, and the hot words flew back and forth between them till we were all at it together.
"He ran the officer through as cool as if he was at practice; he put two others down, and we were making grand play, when there was a flash, and down he went, shot like a dog!
"'Neil! Neil!' he shouted, 'go, for the love of God!' and I broke through and rolled over the side of the cliff; but by God's help I caught and held myself just when I thought I was lost. And I held there while they crawled to the edge and threw a torch down—making sure I had gone with the stones that rolled till they struck the black water below—and until I heard them gather up their wounded and tramp. Then I climbed to the top again, and left him only when I found he was still breathing, and remembered he meant I was to carry his message to you.