Whether victorious or not, Rob Roy could scarcely hope that an act so daring as an attack on a royal garrison would pass unpunished; but he heeded not. By that deed he resolved to make a terrible protest against the usurpation of his land, and the erection of such a building in the country of the MacGregors.
The eventful night proved dark and cloudy. The month was April, but already the young buds had burst, and were in full leaf in the wild woods that bordered Loch Lomond, when Rob clambered out of the deep rocky fissure which formed the approach to his cavern, and sought the place of tryst.
Sweeping down glen and corrie, the night wind came in squally gusts to furrow up the waters of the Loch. About the bare summits of the mighty mountains which overlooked it, the red sheet-lightning gleamed at times, giving a weird aspect to the black and silent scenery, as rock, hill, and tree came forth for a moment in dark outlines upon the lurid background, and then vanished into obscurity.
No sound broke the solemn stillness save those gusts of wind, or the rushing cascade of the mountain burn that brawled from Inversnaid over rocks and stones towards the loch, while the MacGregors arriving in parties of ten, twenty—even forty—from the banks of Loch Arclet, from Glengyle, Glenstrae, and the braes of Balquhidder, mustered at the appointed place, every man armed with sword and dirk, target and pistol.
In addition to these (the invariable weapons of the Highlander) many had long muskets with bayonets, taken from the troops, and the terribletuagh, or pole-axe, and each wore a sprig of pine in his bonnet.
A wild and warlike yet resolute band, they were anxious for the conflict, as they had the traditionary and actual wrongs of their race to avenge—the violation of their clan territory; and, moreover, many of them had suffered by the spoliation or appropriation of their cattle and sheep, which had been taken or shot by the king's garrison; for, as stated elsewhere, cattle were then the whole wealth of our mountaineers. Forty head were a woman's dowry; the rents were paid, daughters were portioned, and sons provided for in life by herds and flocks.
With MacAleister, Greumoch, Alaster Roy, Rob found his eldest son Coll already there. There, too, came even old Paul Crubach, armed with the hiltless sword on which he had impaled the unfortunate cat; and on reckoning his force, Rob found that it consisted of five hundred and two claymores, all men resolute and true as the steel of which their weapons were made.
The milky light of the stars glimmered at times through the flying clouds, on their swords and round shields studded with polished nails and bosses of brass and steel, as they sat or stood in picturesque groups, muttering and whispering, and chewing themuilcionn, as the Highlanders name the spignel, which they were wont to chew like liquorice or quids of tobacco, in winter and spring.
Measures for the attack were soon resolved on by a force alike destitute of cannon, petards, or scaling-ladders. They were simply these: To advance to the gate in the ancient and classic form of a wedge, led by Rob Roy; and if Oina had failed to remove or overcome the sentinel, to trust to the sledge-hammer first and the sword-blade after.
Those nearest in blood, highest in rank in the clan, and the best armed, were to keep close by Rob in the conflict; so Coll, MacAleister, and Greumoch were immediately in his rear, as the march was begun in silence up the side of the stream, towards the point of attack.
The cuarans, or shoes of untanned deerskin, then worn by-the Highlanders, strapped sandalwise over the instep and ankles, enabled this mass of men to advance over the rocky and rough ground as silently and noiselessly as if they trod on the soft heather, or on "the down of Cana," the cotton grass of which Ossian sang, and which whitens the Highland mosses in spring, when the sheep crop it, before it bursts into flower.
After a march of something less than a mile, before them, on an eminence, rose the strong walls and black outline of the fort and barrack they were about to assail.
Halting his men at some distance, MacGregor crept forward softly and drew near the arched gate, on each side of which three pieces of cannon frowned through embrasures of stone.
He listened intently for the step of the sentinel within, but heard only the wind, as it moaned past the mouths of the cannon.
He uttered a shrill whistle like that of a curlew, a signal he had agreed on with Oina, and her expected response, three knocks on the gate, made his heart leap, for he now knew that the sentinel had fallen into a snare, that she had succeeded in intoxicating him, and that the outer barrier at least was open. Hastening back to his men, he exclaimed,—
"Come on, my lads, and follow me; the path is clear!"
He drew his sword, and a gleam of light seemed to pass over all the dusky mass as every man followed his example, and rushing on like a living flood, they flung themselves against the gate, within which the sentinel was lying in his box quite intoxicated.
With shouts of "Dhia agus ar duthaich! Bigh Hamish gu bragh!" ("God and our country! King James for ever!") the MacGregors burst into the fort; but, unknown to them, there was, an inner gate of iron, which secured the passage to the barracks. This, Captain Clifford, the officer commanding the main guard, instantly shut and secured; and through the bars of it his men opened a fire of musketry, that in five minutes brought the whole garrison under arms.
Swinging ponderous sledge-hammers, Rob Roy, MacAleister, and others, strove in vain to beat or break down the malleable iron bars of this unexpected barrier, through which the musketry flashed incessantly, and many of their men were falling killed or wounded, while others returned the fire with their long guns, which they discharged through the barrier right into the faces of the redcoats.
The outworks of Inversnaid were completely in possession of the MacGregors, but the inner wall, by its height, defied their efforts, and Rob knew that from it and the barrack windows ere long there would be opened a fire of musketry, which would decimate and destroy his men, unless the heart of the place was entered, while consternation existed in the garrison.
Already the windows were full of lights, as the soldiers were dressing and arming in haste. Sharply and rapidly the long roll was beaten on the drum, and scores of voices were heard in clamour and confusion within, while without rang the wild cheers of his men and the pipes of Alpine, who played,—
Oh that I had threehands,—One for the sword and two for the pipe!
The red explosion of muskets and pistols echoed on both sides of the barrier, which Captain Clifford, a resolute officer, who shared with his men a hatred and fear of the Celts, defended with resolution; expecting only extermination if taken, the King's Fusiliers acted with great vigour and courage.
From an angle of the inner wall, which his men were now rapidly lining, Major Huske shot off a number of lighted shells or bombs from a little brass howitzer. These soared through the air, forming long and dazzling arcs of light, which enabled his Fusiliers to see the number and disposition of the attacking force, and to direct their fire upon the tumultuous mass of men wedged below the walls, where the long blades of their brandished swords seemed to flash sharply up from a sea of blue bonnets, red tartans, and round targets.
The soldiers, in their square-skirted red coats, white cross-belts, and three-cornered hats, were rapidly lining all the walls, firing at random as they came upon the platforms, till Huske lighted threecercles goudronnes, by the blaze of which they directed their aim.
These are old gunmatches, pieces of rope dipped in pitch and tar, made up in the form of a circle, to be placed upon ramparts during a night attack.
The clear light they cast upon the strife, together with the sharp and destructive explosion of three or four well directed hand-grenades, were causing great consternation among the MacGregors, some twenty or thirty of whom had fallen killed or wounded when the bewildering cry of "fire! fire!" in the heart of the garrison, produced a panic among the soldiers, and a red blaze was seen to start above the roof of the barracks. In fact, Oina, to create a diversion, and distract the attention of the defenders, had thrown a lighted candle into the lofts, where the hay and straw for the officers' horses were stored.
A part of the wall was thus left undefended by Huske drawing off his men to extinguish the flames. At this part, the faithful and devoted Oina threw down a ladder, up which the Highlanders scrambled with the activity of wild cats; but at the same moment a stray bullet pierced her head, and she fell lifeless across the wall with her arms and her long dark hair spread over it.
Rob Roy was the first man in!
As he placed a foot upon the parapet, he stumbled and fell; but his figure and red beard had been recognized by the light of the blazingcercles goudronnes.
"The red MacGregor! down with him," exclaimed an officer; "at him, my lads, with your bayonets breast high!"
Four soldiers rushed forward, and Rob's life had likely ended there, had not Eoin Raibaich (John the Grizzled) a MacPherson who bore his standard (for the Clan Vurich were the hereditary banner-bearers of Clan Alpine), devotedly flung himself before him; and after thrusting the point of the standard pole into the heart of one soldier, received the bayonet of a second on his target, and those of the other two in his own gallant breast.
"Righ Hamish gu bragh!" he exclaimed, and expired, as Greumoch snatched the banner from his hand. Then Rob Roy leaped down into the heart of the place, and with shouts of triumph and fury, his men spread over the whole barrack.
Paul Crubach was seen hobbling hither and thither, yelling like a fiend; his cross-staff uplifted in one hand, his rusty sword-blade in the other, and his long white hair streaming behind, and glittering like hoar frost in the blaze of the burning haylofts, and the flashing of the musketry.
Captain Clifford finding the rear turned, and the foe in the heart of the garrison, opened the inner gate, and at the head of the main guard forced a passage through and escaped.
By this avenue the whole garrison also escaped or were expelled, being driven forth at the point of the sword. Many cast aside their muskets and belts, and fled down the glen of Inversnaid, they knew not whither; but had they been pursued in the old Highland fashion, not one could have escaped; however, Rob was merciful, and would not permit a man to follow the fugitives.
Greumoch in themêléecaught Major Huske by his queue at the moment he was rushing sword in hand through the gate of the fort. The Celt was about to hew the Saxon down, when the wig of the latter came off, so he escaped bareheaded, while Greumoch fell heavily on his face.
"Oich," muttered he; "prutt-trutt! he has a sliddery grip that takes an eel by the tail."
MacAleister soon discovered the cell wherein Ronald was confined, and he rushed forth to embrace his father ere the fray was well over.
Rob's plaid was torn to pieces by bayonet thrusts and musket balls, and he had a severe wound in his left shoulder, where a captain, named Dorrington, stabbed him through the gate with his spontoon, a pike then carried by all officers.
Save about fifteen or twenty soldiers who lay killed or wounded (chiefly near the iron gate), not one of the garrison remained in Inversnaid; but the barrack-yard was strewed with muskets, swords, cartridge-boxes, blankets, haversacks, hats, and wigs; and there also lay two drums, for the fugitives in their panic and desire to escape abandoned everything, even to their regimental colour, for a standard of the South British Fusiliers was found in Major Huske's quarters by young Coll MacGregor, having the English rose embroidered upon it, together with the white horse of Hanover, and the motto,Nec aspera terant.
"Carry this to the farm of Portnellan, my boys," said Rob to his sons, "and give it to your mother as a trophy of this night's work. She has wept and wearied long for you, Ronald."
As there was no time to be lost, he gave orders to destroy the fort utterly. The wounded were carefully removed, and the slain MacGregors he sent by a boat for interment on Inchcailloch, beside the ruined church, which had been disused since 1621.
Among these was Oina, whom her husband had rolled in his plaid, as the only shroud and coffin he had time to procure her.
The whole of the plunder found in the barracks and stores—arms, powder, clothing, food, and money—Rob Roy, with his characteristic generosity, gave to his poor and faithful followers, which completely consoled them for many a stab, slash, and bruise received in the attack.
To himself he reserved only the captured standard and a little child—a boy of about three years of age—who was found asleep peacefully in his bed amid all the horrid din and hurly-burly of the night assault and capture.
On inquiring among the wounded soldiers whose boy this was, Rob was informed that he was the only son of Major Huske; so he gave the little fellow in care of his foster-brother, MacAleister, saying—
"Well, major, turn about is fair play. You took my son—I now take yours. Carry him to Portnellan, Callam, and give him to Helen. Tell her (but it is needless) to keep the little Saxon tenderly, as if he were our own, till such time as we can restore him to his father."
So MacAleister wrapped his plaid about the child, who screamed with terror on seeing the Highlanders; for it was a common belief then in England, and for long after, that they were wont to eat children, like the ogres of the fairy tales.
Rob next ordered the cannon to be spiked and the barracks to be set on fire.
"Alpine, strike up theBrattach Ghael!" said he to the piper, who at once began the "White Banner," a famous pibroch of the Jacobite clans. "By the deed of to-night I shall teach these robber Whigs and truckling Lowlanders to consider well ere again they build a fort on our land; this will be the worst twist in their cow's-horn!"
Rob now gave orders to retire, with the wounded slung in plaids over the shoulders of their comrades, who applied handfuls of nettles to stop the bleeding of cuts and stabs; and the retreating MacGregors saw the flames of the burning barrack and fort rising like a pyramid of fire above the walls, as the daylight stole down the vast steeps of Ben Lomond into its solemn glens and rocky corries.
The blaze was yet shining across the grey morning sky, when they retreated to their fastnesses at the head of Loch Katrine, by the wild way of Loch Arclet, whither MacGregor believed the bravest men in the castles of Stirling or Dumbarton dared not follow him!
The little boy found at Inversnaid was kindly and tenderly received by Helen MacGregor, who made him share the heather-couch of her youngest son, Duncan, a hardy little Highland colt, who was about the same age as the yellow-haired Saxon. The arrival of the latter created great speculation in the small clachan or farm-town of Portnellan; but the poor boy, accustomed to other sights and sounds than those around him now, was scared and terrified by the aspect of the Highlanders, and mourned for his father and for the soldiers among whom he had been reared, and clung to the skirts of Helen MacGregor as his only protectress.
However, as children so young have but shallow griefs and short memories, a few days found him quite reconciled to his fortune, to little Duncan as a bedfellow and playmate; and he learned to sup his porridge with a horn spoon from a large wooden trencher, and to make a companion of the stag-hounds, collies, and otter-terriers, that shared the fireside and sitting-room of the family of Portnellan.
"Alas!" said Helen, one evening, as she sat with the little stranger on her knee; "this fair boy is too sweet, too good and beautiful to find a proper place on earth."
"How—what mean ye, goodwife?" asked Rob, with displeasure.
"Such children never live to comb grey hairs."
"Say not so, Helen," said Rob, impressed by her manner.
"I would the youngling was with his own people. I judge of their sufferings by what I myself have suffered," said Helen, with a sigh.
"True, Helen," said Rob Roy, sternly, as he sat at the table oiling the locks of his pistols; "but little cared they for our heartaches when Ronald was their prisoner—fettered like a felon in the port of Inversnaid, because he fished on the patrimony of his father, and scorned to betray him for gold!"
"To seek the major at Dumbarton——"
"To seek Major Huske anywhere would be to seek death, even for him who took the child to him. A dab MacAleister gave him with his dirk is not likely to have improved the major's temper; so let us bide our time, Helen. Our Highland air but ill suits Saxon lungs, yet the blue-eyed boy thrives bravely, and our little Duncan loves him well. They share their bannocks and cheese, their brochan and brose, like sons of the same mother."
"Yet I would the child were with his," said Helen, earnestly.
"She is, I hope, in heaven," said Rob, looking upward.
"Dead!" exclaimed Helen; "mean you that she is dead?"
"Ay, Helen, even so. She was killed by a cannon-ball at the siege of Landau, in the Lowlands of Holland; and the poor child, then at her breast, was covered with her blood. Thus, poor Oina, who heard a soldier say so, told me."
Helen's eyes filled with tears, as she kissed and caressed the motherless boy, who, while creeping close to her, always viewed her husband's red flowing beard, glaring tartans, and glittering weapons (which he could scarcely lay aside for a moment, even by his own hearthstone) with an undisguised fear and mistrust that frequently made Rob and his henchman laugh heartily.
Helen dressed little Harry Huske in a home-made kilt and short coat, which she adorned with buttons formed of those remarkable pebbles which are found on the isle of Iona. Her own hardy boys never wore shoes except in winter, and then she fashioned for them soft warmcuaransof the red-deer's hide, to protect their feet from the snow; but to little Harry, having been more gently nurtured, she gave every luxury their circumstances would admit, and nightly she sang him to sleep with her harp, and the plaintive old song of MacGregor na Ruara.
Assisted and protected by Sir Humphry Colquhoun, James Grant of Pluscardine, and others, Major Huske, though severely wounded, with all his half-disarmed fugitives, reached the castle of Dumbarton, which is more than twenty miles from Inversnaid, and from thence in a few days, by order of Lieutenant-General Carpenter, commander-in-chief in Scotland, a company of grenadiers, and three of the line, were ordered to penetrate into the district of the MacGregors, to punish them, and, if possible, to capture Rob Roy.
This party, notice of whose march was speedily brought to Portnellan by Coll MacGregor and Greumoch, who had been scouting among the hills of Buchanan, was commanded by Captain Clifford, whose residence at Inversnaid had rendered him pretty conversant with the country. The tidings filled Helen and her household with something very like dismay; but her husband fearlessly prepared for the emergency, and resolved to meet the invaders in one of those narrow passes which then formed the only avenues to the Highlands—avenues which no foreign sword had ever been able to open up.
Clifford's detachment consisted of picked men of the South British Fusiliers, all burning to avenge the late affair at Inversnaid and the loss of their regimental colour. As incentives to them, the price of Rob Roy's head, the entire spoil—cattle, arms, and goods of his adherents—were given in prospective; thus, they commenced the expedition with great alacrity; and the noon of the third day after quitting Dumbarton saw them crossing the mountains near Gartmore House, and approaching the pass of Aberfoyle, intending by that circuitous route to penetrate towards Loch Ard and the Trossachs, and then fall suddenly in the night on Rob Roy's quarters.
They required no guide, as Captain Clifford alleged that he had shot and fished over all the district, and knew it very well.
Brightly shone the steel bayonets and polished musket-barrels in the setting sun of the May evening, and the redcoats looked gay and gallant, while chatting and singing, for no fife was blown nor drum beaten when the strong detachment of Captain Clifford entered the valley of Aberfoyle; but little knew he what awaited him between the Trossachs and Loch Katrine!
Clifford, a brave, handsome officer, rode at the head of the Grenadiers, mounted on a fine white charger. He was a good horseman, and sat well in his saddle. They seemed intended for each other, steed and rider; both seemed to have high spirit and good blood in them; and, in sooth, the steep and rugged mountain path they had to traverse put both to the test.
He had a red feather in his cocked hat, and the snow-white curls of his regimental Ramillies wig flowed over the low cut collar of his wide-skirted scarlet coat. He wore fine lace ruffles, and long black riding-boots.
The Grenadiers had all conical caps of blue cloth, shaped like episcopal mitres, but with scarlet flaps in front, whereon was worked in worsted the white horse of Hanover. Their wide skirts and loose sleeves were all looped up, and they marched with their pouches open and fuses in their hands.
The rest had their bayonets fixed and arms loaded.
Ere long the silence of the vast solitude on which they were entering—the utter absence of all appearance of life or inhabitants—made Captain Clifford begin to dread a surprise. Anon, even the voices of his men died away; they began to speak in whispers, and as the purple shadows deepened amid that tremendous mountain scenery, they kept closer in their ranks, and looked anxiously about them, and at the narrow pass in front.
The arms taken at Inversnaid had, more than ever, completely equipped the Clan Gregor; so now, in the gloomy gorge of Aberfoyle, one of the greatest barriers between the Gael and the Lowlander, were posted in ambush one hundred and sixty marksmen armed with muskets. Under Alaster Roy and Coll, eighty manned one side of the pass, and as many under Greumoch were on the other.
There, too, was little Ronald, crouching among the thick heather, armed with a long horse-pistol, and intent on deadly mischief, if he could see Major Huske, whom he vowed should pay dear for his basket of trout.
Well did Rob and his men know that, if conquered, death and decimation awaited them, together with the utter ruin—it might be theextirpation—of their families: for the terrible massacre at Glencoe was still fresh in all their memories.
Moreover, they remembered that this spot was one of good augury; for there, in the days of their grandsires, a fierce encounter took place with a body of Cromwell's soldiers, who were cut to pieces, and some of whom were buried in a grave which yet remains by the wayside.
Under Rob Roy in person, the main body of his men lay concealed right in front of the marching soldiers.
Sombre twilight was stealing now across the deeper glens, but a bright glory of sunshine yet lighted the vast mountain cones that towered above the valley.
Clifford and his officers frequently uttered exclamations expressive of admiration, for the vale of Aberfoyle, with its splintered rocks, abrupt precipices, and richly-wooded hills, is singularly beautiful; but when Loch Ard began to open its sheet of water on their view, gleaming like a golden shield in the last light of the western sky, the scene became more lovely still.
The duskyiolarwas seen winging his way to his eyry in the craggy steeps; and the sweet notes of thedruidhu, or Alpine blackbird, rang loudly from the hazel woods; while the wild goat, perched on a sharp pinnacle, with his long beard floating on the wind, looked down on the marching troops.
Above hills covered with oak and birch, that waved in the evening breeze like ostrich plumes, above even the saffron clouds, Ben Lomond towered into the grey mist; and far across the placid lake fell its shadow with that of the isle that holds the ruined tower of Murdoch, Duke of Albany; while far in the distance rose the Alps of Arroquhar, with their summits hid in mist, or capped still with the last year's snow.
Such was the scene that opened beyond the dark and narrow defile on which the soldiers were entering.
"A sergeant and three men to the front—double quick!" cried Captain Clifford, as certain undefinable suspicions crossed his mind on seeing that some large boulder-stones had been dislodged from the rocks above, and were hurled down on the narrow pathway, as if to form a barricade. "Grenadiers," he added, "blow your fuses; be ready to throw your grenades, and fall on at a moment's notice."
Still nothing was seen, though five hundred men and more were crouching within musket range—crouching amid the long green braken, the thick purple heather, and the wild bloom which grew so luxuriantly that the crows and magpies built their nests in it; but the tartans of the Highlanders blended with the colours of Nature so admirably that they were still unseen, when at last the whole detachment, officers and men, werebetweenthe muzzles of the musketeers who lay in ambush on both sides of that narrow and gloomy gorge, and already the sergeant and his three advanced files were clambering over the boulders and stones that lay beyond the ambush.
Before MacGregor's horn could give the signal, his son Ronald, unable longer to restrain his anger and enthusiasm, fired his pistol, and the ball struck Clifford's holsters.
Then red fire flashed fiercely from both sides of the dusky hollow, as a hundred and sixty muskets poured their adverse volleys on the unfortunate soldiers, who in a moment were panic-stricken, thrown into confusion—a huddled mass—above their dead and dying.
Springing from amid the grey rocks, the MacGregors, with a simultaneous shout, flung down their plaids and muskets, drew their claymores, and amid the white curling smoke, rushed downward to the charge.
"Steady, men, steady!" cried Captain Clifford, loudly and rapidly. "Grenadiers to the centre! Keep shoulder to shoulder, and face outwards—close up in your ranks, and bayonet them as they come on! Be firm, my Royal Fusiliers!"
"Firm, in the king's name, and we shall yet bear back these Highland savages!" added Captain Dorrington, a brave officer who had served in the war of the Spanish succession.
Leaping over bank, bush, and rock, with heads stooped behind their targets in the usual Celtic fashion, their bodies bent, and sword and dirk in hand, down came the MacGregors, in front and on both flanks, like a herd of wild cats, all yelling, "Ard choille! ard choille! Dhia agus ar duthaich!"
A confused volley was fired by the soldiers; but almost before the bayonets could be brought from the "present" to the "charge," the swordsmen were among them. Stooping below the charged bayonets, they tossed them upward by the target, dirking the front rank men with the left hand, while stabbing or hewing down the rear rank men with the right; thus, as usual in all Highland onsets, the whole body of soldiers was broken, trod underfoot, and dispersed in a moment!
These were the whole tactics of the Scottish Highlanders. Hence their clan battles, no matter how many swordsmen might be engaged, seldom lasted more than five minutes. It was usually an instantaneous charge—a rout—a killing, and all was over!
Captain Dorrington rushed sword in hand upon Greumoch, who, by a single blow with his Lochaber axe, clove him literally through hat and wig to the teeth; then, by the hook of the same weapon, he dragged Captain Clifford from his saddle, and would have slain him had not Rob Roy strode across the fallen officer, and by receiving the blow on his own target, saved him.
Several soldiers, who had burst out of the press, leaped behind rocks and stones, from whence they opened a desultory fire; but they were soon pursued, and cut down or pistolled.
The whole detachment would have been destroyed in a few minutes, had not Rob Roy, towering over the throng, shouted in English, and with a voice that rose above the shrieks and shouts, the clash of weapons, and explosion of firearms, which woke a thousand echoes in the narrow pass, the overhanging rocks and mountains,—
"Surrender, yield—lay down your arms! on your lives lay them down, and I promise you all quarter,—I, the Red MacGregor!"
On hearing this, his own men partly drew back, and many a claymore was withdrawn from a thrust, or lowered from a cut, and the firing instantly ceased.
"You hear what I have said, Captain Clifford," exclaimed Rob Roy; "to resist now is to court death. I know you are too brave a soldier to deem rashness is valour."
"Unfix your bayonets, my lads, and ground your arms. Grenadiers, extinguish your matches," cried Captain Clifford, sullenly. "Our time for sure vengeance shall come anon. But what manner of man areyou, sir," he added, turning fiercely to Rob Roy, "who dare thus attack the king's troops on the open highway?"
"The pass of Aberfoyle, which leads to the country of Clan Alpine, isnotan open highway, as you, captain, have found to your cost; and as for me, I am the man your king and laws have made me," replied MacGregor, sternly.
"Sir, is not our king yours?"
"Nay, sir. You serve the Elector of Hanover. Our king is far away in France, beyond the sea; but we are his true liege men, nevertheless. We have no time to spend in talking, captain. The night darkens fast, and the sooner your men with the wounded get out of the Highland bounds the better. Do not be cast down, my friends," said he, still speaking English to the prisoners, who were now huddled together in a crowd, and surrounded by the armed MacGregors; "you are not the first men who have come into the Highlands to shear, and have gone home closely shorn."
"But your terms: our fate, Mr. Rob Roy Campbell?" began Clifford, in a blundering way.
"'Sdeath and fury!" exclaimed Rob; "call me Campbell again, and I shall cleave you to the belt!"
"Excuse me; but I do not understand all this," said the officer; "are you not named MacGregor Campbell?"
"Yes; by tyrannical acts of Parliament, which I treat with the scorn they merit."
"Well, sir; your terms?"
"Are these,—Surrender your arms and ammunition; leave the Highland border, and begone to England or the Lowlands; let us see you no more in the country of the Clan Gregor."
"The Lowlands," said Clifford, haughtily; "sir, we are quartered in the castle of Dumbarton."
"Where you are quartered, captain, is nothing to me."
"There will be a bloody reckoning for this," said Clifford through his clenched teeth, as he gazed sadly on the mangled body of his poor friend and comrade, Captain Dorrington. "Chief, have you no fear for the future?"
"I fear nothing," replied Rob, haughtily; "moreover I am no chief, but a simple Highland gentleman, whom wrong and tyranny have driven to desperation. You have yet to learn, sir, that though the king may create a titled noble, Heaven alone can make a Highland chief."
The English officer shrugged his shoulders, and gave a disdainful smile, for to his ears this sounded like mere rhodomontade.
"To you, Captain Clifford," resumed Rob Roy, "I return your sword. The arms of your men I retain for the service of King James and the protection of my own people. I restore you all to liberty; but bear this message to the Saxon Governor of Dumbarton, to General Carpenter, or whoever sent you hither, that of the next band which on a hostile errand enters the country of Rob Roy, not one shall return alive if I can help it—not one, by the blessed God of my forefathers, and by St. Colme of Iona, for they shall be cut off root and branch, and the eagle of the hill shall alone tell their fate." He pressed his bare dirk to his lips as he spoke, and many of his men followed the example. "Go, sir; and may we never meet again. My foster-brother, with a hundred of my men, shall escort you so far as Bucklyvie to assist in bearing your wounded. After reaching that place you will be safe from all molestation. Farewell. Strike up, Alpine!" he said to the piper, while saluting the captain with one hand and sheathing his sword with the other.
Then, as the disarmed band of soldiers, after getting, by Rob's orders, a good dram of whisky each, carrying or supporting their wounded, and escorted by MacAleister with a hundred picked men, proceeded in the shadowy gloaming down the dark and rugged pass of Aberfoyle, Alpine's great warpipe woke its many echoes with the triumphant pibroch of "Glenfruin."
Only two MacGregors were killed, so instantaneous had been their onset; but ten redcoats lay dead in the pass; and these the MacGregors buried with reverence by the wayside, where their tomb may yet be seen.
Encouraged by this victory to attempt greater enterprises, MacGregor now resolved to break down into the Lowlands, to carry off the spoil of his enemies; and remembering that it was about the time when the rents of his great enemy the Duke of Montrose were collected, he conceived the idea of visiting the chamberlain on the rent-day—of putting the whole money in his own pocket, and, to punish his grace for old scores, to carry off the obnoxious Killearn bodily into the mountains.
"As the runnels from a hundred hills unite in one, and form a mighty stream," said he, in a stirring address to his followers, "so must all the branches of our outraged people now converge in one. From Glengyle and Glenstrae, from Menteith and Balquhidder, let us muster and march—march down on those sons of little men, the Lowlanders; and they shall shrink before us like dry leaves beneath the lightning! Our forefathers sleep on Inchcailloch; but we, alas! must find our graves on the mountain side, where nothing shall mark them to future times but a grey cairn or a greener spot amid the purple heather."
"Down on the mongrel bodachs—down on the Whigamores!" responded his followers, brandishing their swords with almost savage glee; for to the Highlander then the single word Whig expressed the acme of anything that was sordid, mean, and treacherous to king and country.
It was about the middle of summer in the year 1717, when Rob Roy, leaving the main body of his followers, under his son Coll, posted among the hills of Buchanan, where they had collected a great herd of cattle, the spoil of their hereditary enemies, set forth with twenty men and his favourite piper, Alpine, on a visit to Killearn.
MacAleister and Greumoch were, of course, among these chosen twenty, who were literally hisLeine a chrios—the select men of his followers, meaning in English his "shirt of mail," or children of the belt—men at all times ready to support, obey, defend, or die for him.
Fearing that Killearn might obtain tidings of his approach, and take to flight with his grace of Montrose's money, Rob marched towards his residence with great secrecy and rapidity; and avoiding the highways passed through woods and defiles, and about twelve in the forenoon presented himself suddenly at the Place of Killearn, as Grahame's mansion is still named.
It stands a mile and a half south of the village of Killearn, at the western extremity of Strathblane, in Stirlingshire, and having been built in 1688, it was then surrounded by clumps of wood and plantations.
Here MacGregor was informed by the terrified household that the laird was at the Inn of Chapelerroch, where the tenantry of the duke had been summoned to pay their rents; so he departed at once, with a threat, that if they deceived him, he would return and burn the house to the ground.
He soon reached the inn, which stands half-way between Buchanan House (the duke's residence) and the village of Drymen; and close by it he placed his men in a copsewood.
Killearn, with many of the duke's tenants, was in the dining-room, and he had already given receipts for a large sum of money, when the sound of a bagpipe was heard approaching. The air played, "Up wi' the Campbells and down wi' the Grahames," betokening something hostile, they hurried to the windows, and great was the consternation of Killearn when he beheld Rob Roy, but alone, or preceded only by the piper, Alpine, advancing straight to the door of the inn.
Though in terror that his own life might be the forfeit of the proceedings instituted against Rob nine years before, he sought to preserve his master's property, and gathering up his rent-rolls, receipts, and the bags containing the money, he flung them into a loft above the room.
At that moment the door was thrown open, and with a respect that was in no way assumed, the landlord ushered in Rob Roy, fully armed, with a smile on his lip and irony in his clear grey eye, while Alpine remained as a sentinel at the entrance of the inn.
"God save all here!" said MacGregor, bowing.
"A hundred thousand welcomes!" replied Killearn, whose dapper little figure trembled in his buckled shoes, and he nervously fingered the breeches bible that was always in one of the large flapped pockets of his square-skirted black velvet coat. He trembled so much that the powder of his wig floated like a cloud about his head, as it was shaken from the curls.
On this occasion, Rob wore a short green jacket profusely laced with silver; a long red waistcoat, and scarlet woollen shirt open at the neck; a belted plaid, and pair of deerskin hose and cuarans elaborately cut and tied with thongs. His sporan was ornamented with silver and closed by a curious lock, which concealed two pistol barrels that were always loaded, and would infallibly blow to pieces the hands of any person attempting to open it while ignorant of its secret springs. (This singular clasp is now preserved in the Museum of Antiquities at Edinburgh.) In his bonnet was a long eagle's feather, a tuft of pine, and the proscribed white cockade.
His lawless and predatory life had imparted a wild expression to his eye and a boldness to his bearing that impressed all present; but one of the duke's farmers, named MacLaren, gathering courage, pushed a bottle of wine and another of whisky towards him, saying, with affected confidence,—
"You will drink with us, MacGregor?"
"That will I do, blithely," replied Rob, as he filled up a silver quaich with whisky, and drank it off, previously giving the old Highland toast,—
"The Hills, the Glens, andthe People!"
He then laid his sword and pistols on the table, and presenting his little crooked snuff-mull to go round the company, in token of amity, he said,—
"Keep your seats gentlemen, pray; do not let me interrupt you," and proceeded to partake of the cold roasted meat, the bread, cheese, and wine which had been provided as a repast for the tenants, about thirty of whom were in the room.
While Rob was eating, the spirits of the party rose, and the bottle went cheerfully round till he called to the piper, who stood outside the inn near the open windows,—
"Alpine, strike upGlenfruin."
On hearing this order, which seemed the forerunner of mischief, the chamberlain and tenants exchanged glances of uneasiness, which in no way subsided when Rob stuck his pistols in his belt and snatched his sword, as his henchman and other followers burst into the room, with claymores drawn, and ranged themselves at the door and windows, precluding all chances of escape.
"Now, Killearn," said Rob, for the first time addressing his enemy; "you will perhaps have the kindness to inform me how you have come on with your collection of his grace's rents?"
Hesitation and fear made the factor silent.
"Speak!" exclaimed Rob, impatiently.
"I have got nothing yet," stammered Killearn.
"How! nothing from all this goodly company?" asked Rob, with a deepening frown.
"I have not yet begun to collect."
"Come, come, chamberlain; I know you of old, and so your tricks and falsehoods will not pass with me. I must reckon with you fairly by the book. Produce at once your ledger!"
Killearn, with the perspiration oozing on his temples, still hesitated and began to protest; but Rob laid his watch on the table, and cocking one of his steel pistols, said, with assumed calmness,—
"Killearn, I give you but three minutes to reflect and to obey me."
In terror of death the chamberlain grew deadly pale and looked sick at heart, while a glassy stare dimmed both his eyes, which wandered from the dial of the watch to the muzzle of the pistol, and then to the blank faces of the shrinking farmers, who were seated at the table as if rooted to their chairs.
"One minute has already passed," said Rob, as he began to hum an air, a sure sign that further mischief was not far off; so Killearn, seeing the utter futility of resistance, produced his rental-book and bags of money.
"Now, Killearn, this is acting like a sensible man," said Rob Roy as he uncocked the pistol and placed the watch in his pocket; "so help yourself and take a dram, while I examine your accounts."
Rob Roy turned over leaf after leaf of the ledger, examined the whole of the rental, drew from the farmers those sums which the chamberlain had not yet received, and, pocketing a total of £3,227. 2s. 8d. (Scots), with great formality granted receipts in full.
"I will have a due count and reckoning," said he, "with the Duke of Montrose, when his grace repays me the sum of 3,400 merks Scots——"
"For what?" asked Killearn, gathering courage.
"Dareyouask me for what? For the havoc made on my property by the troops whom Lord Cadogan sent to Craigrostan, and to burn my dwelling-house at Auchinchisallan; to say nothing of the heirship of my lands at Inversnaid. When all these damages have been repaired and repaid, I will then consider theolderscores (anent our unlucky cattle speculation) that exist between your master and me."
"Suppose all this were done," said Killearn, "would you give up your predatory habits, which keep the whole Highland border in hot water; and would you teach your people those of industry?"
"Killearn, as for predatory habits, think you a Highlander ever felt his conscience prick him for takingspreathsof cattle from his natural foemen the Lowlanders? And as for habits of industry, a kilted duinewassal at a shop-counter, or seated at the loom, would be like an eagle in a cage, or a red-deer yoked to a plough," said Rob, with an angry laugh.
"How will this wild life of yours end, MacGregor?"
"Notwhere you anxiously wish it may end—on the gallows-tree; but it shall end when our wrongs are righted."
"At civil law you have——"
"What!" interrupted MacGregor, with a fierce and hollow laugh, "would you have me, upon whose head a price has been set for these nine years past, sneak into the Lawyers' Court at Dunedin, among truculent Whigs and psalm-singing pharisees, to crave and beg the restoration of my patrimony? The hills, with all their woods and waters, were given to the Gael in the days of old, to be their dwelling-place and inheritance, and none but He hath a right to deprive us of them."
"Then we part in peace, MacGregor?" urged Killearn.
"Part—far from it, my good chamberlain," said Rob.
"How?" asked Killearn, uneasily.
"I must have the pleasure of your company with me into the Highlands."
Killearn again grew deadly pale, and faltered out,—
"For what purpose?"
"To be kept as a hostage until Montrose pays me the sum of 3,400 merks which he is justly owing me."
"If he refuses?"
"Then, I will hang you, John Grahame of Killearn, on the highest tree that grows by the banks of Loch Katrine! Away with him, Greumoch. Good night, gentlemen all. Alpine, strike up; theglomaingrows apace, and we must begone to the mountains with speed."
In less than an hour after this the unfortunate factor found himself on the march with Rob Roy's men among the hills of Buchanan, from whence the whole clan, with their spoil, departed under cloud of night, by Auchintroig and Gartmore, and through the pass of Aberfoyle towards the Trossachs.
In irony the piper played before him all the way, till, at a place near Loch Ard, Alpine suddenly stopped as they passed a green knoll.
"Why do you pause?" asked MacGregor.
Alpine pointed to the green knoll. It was a haunt of the fairies, who had decoyed therein his own grandfather, also a piper (for he played the clan into the action at Glenfruin), and he was seen no more till on a Halloween night, about fifty years after. His son, then an aged man, on passing, saw the hillock open like a chamber, and his father, still young and beardless, playing vigorously to hundreds of quaint little dancers in green doublets and conical hats.
On finding himself conveyed into that Highland wilderness, whither few Lowlanders dared to venture in those days, all hope for the future died away in the heart of the unhappy Grahame of Killearn.
Chance of escape he had none. He was secured by a rope round his waist, and this was tied to the girdle of Greumoch MacGregor, who, regardless of the failing strength and weak limbs of the dapper little chamberlain, marched sullenly on, with his poleaxe on his shoulder, a short tobacco-pipe in his mouth, and his vast plaid floating behind him, dragging his prisoner over rocks and stones, up steep ascents and down foaming watercourses, without pity or remorse, and without giving him time either to breathe or implore rest and pity.
With growing terror Grahame remembered his treatment of the wife of MacGregor, when he pillaged Inversnaid, though under colour and authority of the civil law; he knew that it was by his counsels that the powerful Duke of Montrose had ruined poor Rob, and driven him to the hillside as an outlaw and reiver; and he gave himself up for utterly lost when the wild pass of Aberfoyle closed upon the rear of the marching band, and the vast spoil of cattle they had collected at the point of the sword.
Rob Roy conveyed his prisoner to the head of Loch Katrine, and by the time he arrived there, exhausted by toil, by the rough nature of the steep paths he had been forced to traverse with such unwonted celerity, and moreover being in constant fear of a dreadful death by hanging on a tree, being drowned like a cur with a stone at his neck, or being shot by a platoon of MacGregors, the unhappy Killearn was in a deplorable plight, and had long since become quite passive in the hands of his captors.
By order of Rob Roy, Greumoch placed him in a boat, and rowed him to an island in the loch, now well known to tourists as "Ellen's Isle;" it was covered with the richest copsewood, and there, in a hut with Greumoch and another equally grim Celt to watch him, Killearn remained in captivity, during which nothing was known of his fate in the Lowlands, until he was permitted to write to the duke.
This letter, which he was compelled to date from Chapelerroch, lest the real place of his detention should become known, acquainted the duke that he was the helpless prisoner of Rob Roy, who was resolved to detain him until a ransom of 3,400 merks Scots was paid for the damage by Lord Cadogan's troops at Craigrostan and Auchinchisallan; adding, moreover, that he would receive "hard usageif any military party was sent after him."
In breathless suspense poor Mr. Grahame waited for a reply, but the duke was in London, the means and the mode of postal transmission were slow in those days, and no answer came to his prayer.
Greumoch frequently terrified him by saying he should be cut joint from joint and sent to London in a hamper, packed in heather, like a haunch of venison for the duke's table.
After being detained a considerable time, one day, when hope of release was becoming more and more faint, Killearn saw a boat pulled by eight sturdy rowers in MacGregor tartan, the chief colours of which are red, green, and black, coming down the loch from Glengyle.
It reached the island, and a tall, armed Highlander, in whom he recognized Rob Roy, leaped ashore, and advanced towards the hut, followed by several of his men.
Killearn, believing that his last hour had arrived, and that they had come to execute him, drew forth his breeches bible with trembling hands, and so much did his tongue fail him that he could scarcely reply to Rob's courteous but ironical salute.
"Killearn," said he, "I am come to set you at liberty. Montrose, your master, has proved as treacherous to you as he has been to me. Little recks he whether I hang you on one of those trees, or give you a swim in the loch with a stone at your neck! You are free; and this you must admit is very different treatment to that whichIshould experience if our circumstances were reversed, and I wereyourprisoner, as now you aremine. Return, with this advice from me. Collect no more the rents of that land from whence I took you, as I mean to be factor there myself in future."
"You, MacGregor?"
"I—and what matter is there for wonder? All that country which Montrose and more than he brink and boast as their own, is but a portion of the heritage of Clan Alpine. By false attainder and studied legal villanies we have lost it; thus whatever is possessed by the Grahames, the Murrays, and the Drummonds is ours, and ours it shall be with the help of God and our good claymores!"
He then restored to the bewildered Killearn all his papers, receipts, and rental-book, and sent him under an escort homeward through the pass of Aberfoyle as far as the hills of Buchanan.
On this man, who had so greatly aided in his ruin, and who had so grossly insulted his wife, he thus "took no personal satisfaction," says a writer, "which certainly shows the mildness of his character, when we consider the habits and mode of thinking of the Highlanders of his day."
In accordance with his threat he now proceeded to summon the whole heritors and farmers of the western district of Stirlingshire, to meet him in the old church of Drymen, there to pay the black-mail which for some time past they had neglected to send to his nephew Glengyle.
On the appointed day he marched there with five hundred men fully armed, and took possession of the ancient church, which, as tradition avers, the Wizard Napier (whose castle is close by) removed from another place to its present site.
The land here belonged chiefly to the Grahames of Montrose and Gartmore, yet such was the terror of MacGregor's name, that all the farmers attended and duly paid the usual tribute—all at least save one, who was bold enough to decline compliance; in consequence of which his lands were instantly swept of everything that could be carried off, or driven into the mountains.
Immediately on his return from London the Duke of Montrose applied to the Scottish Commander-in-Chief, Lieutenant-General Carpenter, for a sufficient body of troops to repress, if not totally root out, the MacGregors, who were now feasting in ease, triumph, and jollity on the plunder of his estates, in their fastnesses at the head of Loch Katrine.
Rob Roy gave a grand entertainment in the old Highland fashion at Portnellan, and the joviality was great, for the formerly poor and penniless members of the clan he had enriched by the spoil of their oppressors.
On this occasion deer and beeves were roasted whole, and laid on hurdles or spars placed athwart the trunks of trees, so arranged as to form a rustic table, at which hundreds could seat themselves. For a hall they had the open valley, bordered by the great mountains that look down on Glengyle, canopied by the mists and clouds of heaven; in the distance the blue water and the wooded isles of Loch Katrine, all reddening in the setting sun, and overshadowed by the vast summit of Benvenue.
Alpine and other pipers played, nor were harpers from the Western Isles wanting to make music there, and plenteous libations of whisky (that never paid duty to the king), of claret landed by French smugglers, and of Helen's home-brewed ale went round in stoups and quaichs and luggies.
There on Rob's right hand sat his aged mother, with the little English boy, Harry Huske, upon her knee, for the child was alternately the plaything and pet of her and of her daughter-in-law, Helen MacGregor.
After this great open-air banquet reels were danced on the smooth turf, and torches of blazing pine were tied to poles when the light of the long, clear midsummer night began to fail.
But lo! a sudden gathering of dark clouds, and the playing of green lightning about the summit of Benvenue, announced a coming storm, warning all to separate and seek shelter ere midnight came. Many supposed the sudden storm which so rapidly followed this entertainment was ominous of coming evil; but a few hours after it was discovered to have been the means, perhaps, of saving Rob Roy and all his followers from death or capture.
On the evening of the rustic banquet, in compliance with the request of the Duke of Montrose, three bodies of troops were on their march, by three different routes, to surprise the whole of the MacGregors.
One party of the 15th Foot (then as we have said called Harrison's Regiment) advanced from Glasgow; another of the South British Fusiliers, under Major Huske, came from Stirling, accompanied by the ungrateful Grahame of Killearn as Sheriff Depute of Dumbartonshire; and a third party consisting of the Scots Royals (or 1st Regiment of the Line) advanced from Finlarig.
But their marching was slow and devious, for the country was strange, especially to the English troops, none of whom could be quartered in Scotland prior to the Union in 1707. The Highlands were then without roads, and the Government possessed "no correct map of those unexplored regions which," as a recent writer says, "were almost as little known south of the Tweed—or we may rather say,south of the Tay—as the African deserts, or the interior of North America."
Hence, a night march among those pathless mountains was an arduous task in these times; and on this occasion the rain descended in blinding torrents; the water-courses became white cascades; mere runnels were swollen to streams, and streams became dark impassable floods. The guides led the troops astray, either wilfully or by mischance; so that all arrived too late at the passes, and ere the storm was fairly over, Rob Roy (whom they had hoped to pounce upon when in bed) had intelligence of his unwelcome visitors, and got all his men under arms.
Some firing took place about daybreak, and the king's troops retreated, after the loss of only one man, a grenadier, who was shot by Coll MacGregor from the summit of a rock; but in retiring the Scots Royals captured and carried off Rob's right-hand man and long tried follower, poor Greumoch MacGregor, who was immediately transmitted to the Tolbooth of Creiff.*
* "Feb. —, 1717, Gremoch Gregorach, airt and part with Rob RoyaliasMacGregor, in seizing of —— Grahame of Killearn; robbing him, carrying him away, and detaining him a prisoner several days. A party ordered to be sent by Brigadier Preston to guard him from Crieff Gaol to Edinburgh."—Records of the Tolbooth of Edinburgh.
Greumoch had been taken when lurking in the clachan of Aberfoyle, a circle consisting of ten large stones, a druidical temple, situated on rising ground near the Parish manse.
On tidings reaching Edinburgh that this important outlaw had been captured, Brigadier George Preston, of Valleyfield, governor of the castle, despatched a sergeant and six troopers of Campbell's Dragoons (the Scots Greys) to Creiff, where they received Greumoch, with strict orders to watch him by day and night until delivered to the civil authorities, and safely lodged in the heart of Midlothian. Being the first of Rob's men who had fallen into their hands, and moreover being that bold outlaw's chief follower and kinsman, it was resolved by rope, by axe, and knife to make a terrible example of him by a public execution—to have him hanged, drawn, and quartered.
But in all these barbarities they were nearly anticipated by the burghers of Crieff, who hated the Celts for repeatedly burning their town, and a mob followed the captive, shouting,—
"The wuddy—the wuddy! a tow—a tow! let him fynd the wecht o' himsel by the craig!" (which meant in English—"The gallows—the gallows! a rope—a rope! let him feel the weight of himself by the neck!")
So cried the Lowlanders, as Greumoch was conducted by the troopers, not, as the mob expected, to the fatal circle at the Gallow-hill, where the Stewards of Strathearn held their courts of old, but away on the road that led to the south.
Bound upon a horse, the sergeant marched his prisoner through the long and lovely valley of the Earn; with carbines loaded, a trooper rode on each side of him, with orders to shoot him down if he attempted to escape.
A village near Dunblane formed their first halting place. There one of the troopers, who seemed less rough than his comrades, gave Greumoch a dram, on which the sergeant said,—
"Come, Highlander, I'll teach you a toast.-"
"Will you?" asked Greumoch, sullenly.
"Yes—you dour-looking Redshank."
"Well—my glass is full."
"Here's to the health of King George—and to the confusion of his enemies, including Rob Roy, the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender!"
On hearing this offensive speech, Greumoch dashed the glass and its fiery contents full into the eyes of the sergeant and half-blinded him.
Inspired with rage, the non-commissioned officer ordered his men to secure the prisoner beyond all chance of escape during the night. The dragoons selected a heavy old-fashioned chair, in which they placed Greumoch, and tied thereto his hands, arms, and legs, lacing about him some twenty yards of rope, the knots of which were tied behind; and now, deeming him secure beyond all hope of flight, they stabled their horses, threw off their accoutrements, applied themselves to the whisky-bottle, and after making very merry, retired to rest in the outer room.
When all was dark and still, and poor Greumoch's hands and limbs were fast becoming swollen, benumbed, and stiff—all but powerless, in consequence of the cruel manner in which the soldiers had bound him—he remembered having seen a knife on the table, where the sergeant had left it by chance.
Could he but reach that knife! But, tied as he was, of what use could it be? Yet there occurred to him an idea, which he resolved at once to put in practice.
By vigorous, yet almost noiseless, efforts with his feet, he dragged the chair across the room towards the table. At last he reached it, and, after being so frequently baffled that he was about to relinquish the attempt in despair, he contrived to take up the knife in his mouth, and to grasp the handle firmly with his teeth.
Then, by turning his head on each side alternately, he applied the edge so successfully to the cords which crossed his shoulders, that he soon severed them. By this process he gradually got one hand loose; but for many minutes it hung powerless by his side. However, anon he grasped the knife with it, and in a short time was free; but on rising from the chair, so much were his limbs benumbed, that he staggered like a tipsy man, and overturned both chair and table. Heavily they fell with a crash on the floor!
Greumoch rushed to the window, opened it, and leaped into the dark and silent street of the village; but at the same moment, from another window of the house, two carbines flashed, and the balls whizzed past as the troopers fired at him in their shirts.
"You are only dragoons," snouted Greumoch, in Gaelic; "and dragoons never hit anything; so fire away!"
Then with a derisive laugh he disappeared in the darkness.
The Duke of Montrose began to despair of ever capturing Rob Roy or of conquering his men; but he distributed among his tenantry a great number of muskets, bayonets, and swords, with plenty of ammunition, that they might be able to defend themselves if attacked; but all these military stores fell into the hands of the enemy, for Rob, MacAleister, Greumoch, Coll, and other MacGregors, by a systematic series of attacks or visits in the night, disarmed all the tenants in succession; so the duke gained nothing by the arrangement.
Another insurrection for the House of Stuart was expected in the Highlands; and as the MacGregors, by their conflicts, raids, and depredations, had collected a great quantity of weapons, more than were requisite for their personal equipment. Rob Roy had all these carefully oiled, packed in well-greased cowhides, and buried in secret places, where perhaps many of them remain undiscovered to this day.
The MacGregors daily became more daring, and sometimes drove away the cattle from the parks, beneath the very windows of Buchanan House, where the duke resided. The practice of "lifting," as it was termed, the cattle of a hostile clan was then, and for many years after, common in the Highlands; and as the feud between Rob and his grace was of the most bitter nature, he carried the system to the utmost extent.
The duke's rental was principally payable in kind. Thus Killearn had established large granaries for storing up corn, meal, butter, cheese, &c., at a place called Moulin and elsewhere, which he deemed secure. Yet at all these storehouses Rob Roy appeared regularly, when least expected, and demanded supplies of grain, meal, or cheese for the use of his family, his followers, or for the poor people of the district, who were all devoted to him, for he was deemed the friend and father, protector and champion, of all who were necessitous, unfortunate, or oppressed.
For the quantities thus taken he regularly gave signed receipts, which stated that he took these goods as a return in some part for the property of which the duke had so unjustly deprived him; and at times he frequently compelled the Montrose tenantry to convey the goods thus appropriated to his house at Portnellan, or wherever they were required.
In his desperation, Montrose resolved to attempt the capture of Rob in person, and applied to the Privy Council for authority to raise a body of horse and foot militia among his own dependants, supposing probably that they would be better suited to a warfare among the mountains than the troops of the line.
It is said that the duke had such a dread of the greater or more active enmity of Rob Roy that, singularly enough, "his namewas intentionally omitted, and the act was expressed in general terms, as being one to repress sorners, robbers, and broken men—to raise the hue-and-cry after them, to recover goods stolen by them, and to seize their persons."
In consequence of the state of society which then existed in the Highlands, where the people dwelt in tribes or communities and in sequestered glens, which were separated by great mountain ridges, by pathless forests, while deep defiles or narrow passes formed the only access to the country, sudden raids and onslaughts, if vigorously conducted, could be easily made, with great peril, however, and with certain subsequent vengeance.
The two bodies of horse and foot now mustered and armed by Montrose were composed of men entirely devoted to him, and more or less antagonistic to the MacGregors, at whose hands they had all suffered severely. They wore the duke's livery—blue coats faced with red, with trews of the Grahame tartan, and each wore in his bonnet a laurel leaf. There was not a man among them but had something to revenge, in the shape of a farm burned, a kinsman slain, or a herd carried off; so the measures now put in force against him compelled Rob Roy to be more than ever wary, for although hitherto most fortunate in all his achievements and escapes, he could not hope to be always so.
Selecting a time when many of the MacGregors were absent at distant fairs, on a dusky evening in the November of 1717, it was resolved to beat up Rob's quarters.
Assisted by a few of the horse grenadiers of MacDougal (now a lieutenant-colonel), the duke's militia, led by a gentleman named Colonel Grahame, a brave and determined fellow, who had served under Charles XII. in his war with Russia, passed rapidly and unseen through the pass of Aberfoyle, and about midnight reached the house and clachan of Portnellan, at the head of Loch Katrine.
There was no moon, and all was dark and still; not even a dog barked, when the house, which was thatched with heather, was completely surrounded on all sides by men with muskets loaded and bayonets fixed. The dragoons were led by the only unwilling member of the expedition—Willie Gemmil, now a sergeant.
The cottages wherein MacAleister, Greumoch, and others dwelt, adjoined the house of Rob, and formed a kind of small square, in the centre of which was a patch of ground, cultivated as a kitchen garden, and common to the whole community.
These cottages were built as such edifices are still constructed in the Highlands. The smoothed face of a rock made the floor; several large boulders of black whin formed the corners of the gables, and a few courses of turf plastered with clay made up the walls. On the rough pinecabersof the roof lay the thatch, composed of fern with its root ends outwards, and tied with ropes of twisted heather.
As these humble edifices burned like a heap of straw, Colonel Grahame said,—
"Fire all these thatched roofs at once, and smoke the rascals out like foxes. Then shoot down every one who comes forth!"
"Nay, nay, colonel," said an old officer, a quartermaster named James Stewart; "under favour, sir, I will have no hand in such butcherly work. Our orders are——"
"To seize or destroy Rob Roy at all hazards!"
"Yes; but we have not King William's sign-manual in our pockets to make another Glencoe at the head of Loch Katrine," retorted the quartermaster.
"Sirrah—do you dispute my orders?" began the colonel, furiously, when Sergeant Gemmil approached and said,—
"Please your honours, to fire the cottages would rouse the whole country on us, as if the fiery cross went through it; and we should all be cut to pieces, horse and man, before we could escape by Aberfoyle, or the pass of Loch Ard."
"Egad, you are right, sergeant; so let us beat up this rogue's quarters more quietly," replied Grahame.
Though the house was humble, being merely a cottage with stone walls, the door was strong; but it was soon dashed open by a musket butt; then all shrunk back, with their bayonets at the charge, expecting MacGregor, like a baited lion, to spring forth upon them sword in hand, for all dreaded the length and strength of his arm; but instead there appeared only three women trembling in their night-dresses.
One of these, an aged woman, was Rob's mother; the others were Helen MacGregor and her foster-sister, who, when she married, had come with her from her father's house of Comar, which stood on the eastern slope of Ben Lomond.
On Colonel Grahame imperiously demanding "where Robert MacGregor Campbell was?" they assured him that he and all his followers were absent; and that if this was doubted, the house might be searched.