The Rhuvaig Smuggler. A story of the Highland crofters

Front matter

ONE SHILLING. TfiE Rhuvaig Smuggler A Story of the Highland Crofters BU J[DJ[M BA^BODI^ JOHN MENZIES & CO., EDINBURGH AND GLASGOW. THE RHUVAIG SMUGGLER A STORY OF THE HIGHLAND CROFTERS m ADAM BARBOUR EDINBURGH and GLASGOW JOHN MENZIES AND COMPANY CONTENTS. CHAPTER TAGE I. The Smugglers' Cave, . .1 II. The Rev. Ronald Ross Discovers a Secret, 9 III. An Unwilling Eavesdropper, . 17 IAr. AVar op. Peace ? ..... 22 A7. Hector Macalister's Grand-Daughter, . . 26 VI. The First Repulse, ... .32 VII. Inflaming the Crofters, . . .36 VIII. The Secret Conclave, . .42 IX. A Perverted Young Radical, . 47 X. The Deer Raid, ..... 53 XI. A Sudden Impulse, ..... 59 XII. Deforcing the Sheriff-Officer, . . .62 XIII. Flora Macalister's Silent Avowal, . . 68 XIAr. A Good Action Misiinderstood, . . 73 XV. The Smuggler Tries Again, . . .79 XVI.

Hue and Cry, ...... 85 XVII. Trial at the High Court, . . .90 XVIII. An Outcast in Edinburgh, . . . .95 l\ com bs rs. CHAITEH PAGR XIX. A Broken Man's Heroism, . . . 102 XX. Donald Mactavish's Conscience Awakened, . 107 XXI. The Character Money-Salve, . . .113 XXII. Return of a Fugitive, .... 119 XXIII. " Loohabf.r no More," .... 125 XXIV. The Last Night in Scotland, . .130 XXV. The Smuggler's Last Adventure, . . 135 XXVI. In the Far West, . . . . .143 XXVII. Past, Present, and Future, . . . .149 A STORY OF THE HIGHLAND CROFTERS.

Chapter I

An honest man may be carved out of any willow stump, but to make a rogue you must have brains. A tempestuous storm of wind and rain was raging around Rhuvaig, a small crofter township on the north-west coast of Ross-shire, one December night in 18 — . The villagers had gone to rest for the night, and all was dark and silent, save for the howling of the wind and the heavy patter and swish of the rain. Only in one cottage was a light to be seen. It had glimmered through the window for an hour or more, since the owner of the house had returned in hasti3 after a couple of days' absence in another part of the county. Suddenly the light was extinguished, and immediately after a man might have been seen to stealthily leave the cottage, and, after cautiously making his way to the outskirts of the village, to set off across the moor at a quick, swinging pace.

It was apparently to protect himself against the fury of the elements that this man was so thickly clad, with large slouch hat and muffler, shaggy pea-jacket, and sea-boots ; but a person of an observant and inquisitive turn of mind would probably have suspected that the hat and muffler had been adjusted to make his identification difficult. His features were entirely concealed. From his depth of chest and breadth of shoulder, "massive majesty of thigh," and heavy firm A tread as he bent forward to the storm in his eager progress, it could be seen that he was a magnificent specimen of the animal man. "With his eyes fixed on the ground, and with his hands firmly clenched, he strode onwards, regardless of wind and rain. His whole mien indicated that he was on some errand requiring promptitude and determination.

On he dashed, only stopping at intervals to peer around into the darkness and listen attentively. In half an hour he had traversed the moor, and begun to ascend the steep, jagged hills that lay between him and the sea-coast. Choosing a difficult and unfrequented path, he clambered up swiftly, with an agility and certainty betokening familiarity with every foot of the way. By taking a short cut that would have escaped the eye of a stranger even in the daytime, he soon reached the summit of the hill, which sloped gently seawards, and terminated abruptly at the shore in precipitous, irregular cliffs of great height. Against these the waves were dashing with tremendous force, leaping far up the face of the rocks, and flinging their blinding spray in showers over the slopes beyond. "Without a moment's hesitation he made straight for a narrow fissure that ran zig-zag down to the foot of the cliffs, in an angle somewhat protected from the full rush of the waters, and began to descend.

Hand over hand he went, sliding down with marvellous rapidity, until he almost reached the bottom, where the sea was thundering aud tumbling. Here the daring adventurer suddenly stopped, and, glancing upwards to the left, gave forth a shrill cry like that of a sea-gull. The sound was imitated to perfection. In a few seconds he repeated the cry, following it at once with a bleating sound, resembling that of a sheep. Before the echo had died away, a beam was thrust out from the mouth of a cave so situated as to be visible only from the sea, and a rope, at the end of which was a large noose, was lowered to the place where the man stood. Adroitly he slipped the noose over his body to the waist, the rope was pulled up, and in less time than it takes to describe the movement, the smuggler — for such was the calling of the man— had disappeared into the mouth of the cave.

Blackhead Cave, at the time of which our story tells was and is even to this day, a haunt of daring smugglers. Far removed from the track of ordinary honest men, the contra bandists were not troubled by any stray visitors with prying eyes ; and though the existence of the cave was a matter of common report among the crofters of the country side, they thought little of, and cared less for, the operations that were carried on therein, and they could but vaguely guess who among their neighbours were engaged in the illicit traffic. Those few who did not openly approve of the smugglers' calling, and trade without hesitation in the liquor they manu factured, were at least totally indifferent to their doings. And as for Her Majesty's Inland Revenue officers— they knew best their own reasons for not at once and for ever stamping out the traffic conducted under their very noses.

In the first place, their information was so meagre and contradic tory that only a very acute or sanguine officer could or would make it the basis for a grand raid. Not a syllable of useful information could be coaxed, cajoled, or threatened out of the cautious hard-headed natives, any attempt to extract a clue from them landing the inquirer in greater confusion and inde cision than before. A party of men could with difficulty gain entrance to the cave by means of a boat at high tide when the sea was very calm. Once this had been attempted, with almost fatal results, the boat having been upset by the breakers, and the Excisemen immersed in the water, from which they saved themselves with great exertion, several fishermen regarding them with amused, sinister looks the while. The cave could also be reached from the top of the cliff; but such a feat would have been hazardous in the extreme ; and, besides, the invaders could have descended only one by one, a circumstance which, for more reasons than one, made them pause.

The cave was ragged and narrow at its mouth, but inside was wide and lofty. It had the appearance of having seen long service as a distillery, the walls and roof being blackened by fire and peat-reek, while the floor was thickly littered with scorched stones, peat-ash, charred wood, barrel staves, and all manner of rubbish and lumber. At the farther extremity of the cave a dozen or more small casks and a few brown whisky jars were piled. In the middle stood three stills of large size and most complete construction. By a cunningly devised trench the stills were supplied with a con- ■i THE RHUVAIG SMUGGLER. tinuous and copious stream of water drawn from a tiny brook that bounded down the rocks to the sea. Near the entrance of the cavern there had been erected a rude but strong and ingenious contrivance resembling a small crane, which was used by the smugglers in lowering casks into their boats, or in leaving and entering their secret retreat.

A hiding place better adapted to such unlawful pursuits could scarcely have been provided by nature or by man. The man who turned from the windlass, after having landed his brother smuggler securely, was of rough but not ruffianly appearance. He was dressed in dark grey home spun cloth, long blue woollen muffler, and much battered soft felt hat. Considerably over middle age, he was bent in the shoulders, but his frame was evidently of immense strength and toughness; while his grizzled, bushy beard, heavy eye brows, sun-browned, deep-seamed face, and small grey eyes, attracted attention by reason of a certain harshness, a sinister determined look, they gave the man. For a few moments the men did not exchange a word with each other, the older one occupying himself in trimming the ship's lamp that dimly lighted the cave ; the other, drip ping with rain, moodily and absently looking on the ground.

" You're early to-night, Angus," the former broke silence at last, shutting the lamp with an impatient snap. " You're not due till ten, and it's now not much past eight. I haven't got things ready yet, and Donald and Hugh won't be here till ten." " Much need to be early. You need not go on with your preparations, Rory. We can't do anything to-night, or perhaps for many a night, for that matter," replied Angus, in a hurried, petulant voice. "We've other work to do. The Dingwall hawks will be down upon us before we know where we are. Never mind how I found that out. I know it ; that's enough ; and if we're not quick they'll make a clean sweep of us again." "Not here, I'm thinking," said Rory, with a grim quiet smile. " Yes, here. They've got to know all about our place— everything, everything !

" he cried, suddenly bursting out into a furious passion. " But I'll see them pitched over Black head rocks before they lay their thieving hands on our plant a second time." F He strode backward and forward, opening and shutting his hands convulsively ; then calming himself with an effort, he turned to Rory, and said, " We must have everything out of the way at once. They may be down upon us at any moment. You must be off to bring the others here, and we'll disappoint these prowlers yet." Rory Macleod did not quite relish the errand of knocking up his two accomplices on such a wild night. But the occasion was pressing. He was lowered down the cliff, and vanished into the darkness. When he had seen his comrade depart, Angus Watt walked slowly back into the cave, with arms folded, his brows knit, and plunged in deep thought.

The lamp, shining full on his face, revealed the features of a young man under thirty years of age. He was of dark — strikingly dark — complexion, with large black eyes, clean shaven face, except for a short formally cut moustache ; his forehead was broad and square, his under jaw massive, and his lips thin and firmly closed. It did not require much skill in physiognomy to set him down as a bold, passionate man, determined, even to fierce doggedness, in the execution of any undertaking ; harsh and stern in disposition, capable, one would have imagined, of cruel, relentless deeds, should they serve a desperate purpose. In Rhuraig Angus Watt had few associates ; he was loved by none, feared by almost all. " When ye've got onything to do wi' Angus Watt, keep your eyes open, and be done wi' it as soon as you can," said a cautious old crofter to his son, who on one occasion had some small business dealing with that individual.

And this expression seemed to embody the general feeling of distrust and aversion with which he was regarded. Not that there was anything bad definitely known of Watt ; few, perhaps not one, could have stated their reasons for disliking him had they been asked to formulate them. There were sufficient grounds for suspicion in the fact that he was taciturn and reserved, preferred solitude to their company, had a proud, forbidding counten ance, and was not a native of that part of the country. In short, he was unlike them in appearance, manner, and mode of life. He was an individual, a man apart, not one of the community. Where he had originally come from not a soul in or about Rhuvaig had the vaguest notion. Twelve years before, when a slim, active youth, quietly self-contained even then, he had come and gone in the small fishing boats that frequented the numerous bays and lochs on the west coast.

So little did he mingle with his fellows that his presence or absence was scarcely noticed. And so gradually did he extend his acquaintanceship, every year coming more often to the village, that when he finally took up his abode there the event aroused no comment whatever among the people. No one thought of inquiring about the antecedents of one who had long since ceased to be regarded as a stranger. That he had been brought up in the Highlands was certain, for he spoke Gaelic with the best of them. It was likewise obvious that he had seen much of the south country, for he spoke English " like a gentleman." His parentage, however, was a complete mystery. But the gossips, unwilling to be found deficient in their information, pointed to his fiery, swarthy countenance as proof of foreign extraction, and ventured upon other surmises, which, how ever interesting they proved to a circle of villagers seated around a cottage fire on a winter night, need not be retailed here.

Had these same villagers seen Angus Watt as he stood with his arms tightly folded, his eyes flashing, and with a dark malignant scowl on his face, their fears and distrust of him would have doubly increased. Savagely stamping his foot.on the ground as he awoke out of his gloomy reverie, he exclaimed, "The milk-faced dominie, the wretched lank-haired, black-board scribbler ! I'll make him pay dear for this. He hasn't forgotten me when he was at Dingwall. But I'll see to it that he does not forget me as long as he lives. No other one could have put them on the scent. The sneaking hypocrite, crawling about, deep in meditation, of course ; never notices anything, not he. And all the time he sees and guesses what's going on in the countryside better than the officers themselves. A blight on me if I don't make him bitterly repent interfering in my Having thus unburdened himself in tones of suppressed anger, Watt moved to the mouth of the cave, and, with that dangerous light still in his eyes, and his features still con torted by that frightful frown, assumed the attitude of a watchful and suspicious sentry.

For more than half an hour he remained motionless, apparently unconscious of the biting wind and rain, from which he was not completely sheltered, when the signal that we are already acquainted with suddenly aroused him. After peering for a moment into the darkness, Watt swung round the derrick, lowered the rope, and plied the windlass. This operation three times performed, and three shaggy-looking men, one of them Rory Macleod, stood in the cave, waiting the orders of their leader. "Now then," cried Watt, "not a moment's to be lost. Out with the plant, and off with it to the hiding. We must have it stowed away and be safe home before daybreak, or these fellows will stop us. You've got your work cut out for you ; so, fall to ! " "Damn their gleg een," said Donald Mactavish, one of Rory's companions, in a shrill voice that came as a surprise from so deep a chest ; " what for can they no leave decent people alone to mak' a drop o' guid whusky whatever .

It's little harm we're doin' themselves, I'm thinkin' ! Ach, may the deevil for ever limp at their elbows, surely ! " The third man, Hugh Macpherson, said nothing ; he seldom said anything; but the expression on his face was sufficient evidence that he was of the same mind as his garrulous companion. Without further comment the four men set to work, their methodical procedure showing that they were either well used to it, or had previously thoroughly understood the measures to be adopted in such an emergency. One by one the three stills were taken to pieces, the worms and " black-pot " of each — the most valuable parts of the apparatus — being first carefully laid aside. They were then lowered to the rocks beneath, and three of the smugglers carried them, one by one, to a broad shallow stream a quarter of a mile distant.

Four hours' hard labour saw the "black-pots" buried in the bed of the brook, and the worms artfully concealed amidst moss and heather. The mash tubs were hidden in the cave, then three casks of recently-made whisky were brought out and buried in the peat on the edge of a marsh. " Now," said he of the shrill voice, as he straightened him self and wiped the perspiration from his brow, " if the shentlemen o' the Excise have the deevil to help them, they'll maybe find us oot ; but they'll be cleverer than ever I thocht them if they do it without him. That's jist what I'm thinkin'!" They returned to the cave, where Watt had been employed putting the remaining portions of their instruments out of sight, and after a short consultation and a stiff dram of spirits — not of their own manufacture — prepared to make for their homes.

Three left the cave by the usual means, and, ascending to the edge of the cliff, lowered a rope, by the aid of which the fourth clambered to the top with an ease that would have astonished one to whom the climbable parts of the rocks were less familiar. The rope was con cealed in a deep fissure, and the party bent their steps to wards Rhuvaig. When about a mile from that place they separated, each taking a different route to the township.

Chapter II

The grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and. bids it break. In all human probability the great bulk of the Scottish public would have been totally ignorant of the existence of the crofting township of Rhuvaig, if it had not had the rare good fortune to possess as its Free Church minister — the " Auld Kirk " was at a lamentable discount in those parts — the Rev. Ronald Ross, distinguished in General Assembly, in Presbytery meeting, in the pulpit, and in public political assemblage for eccentricity, loud eloquence, and fiery com bativeness, especially for the last-named quality. All three endowments, he was proud of informing his friends and acquaintances when occasion offered, and also frequently when occasion did not offer, he had inherited fr<3m his ancestors. " For had he not issued from a race of men (we quote from a newspaper report of a scene between the reverend moderator of the General Assembly and our hot-headed friend, who refused to have his opinions burked by the fathers and brethren) of iron will and muscle, whose fingeis were taught to war, and who had indelibly engraven their names on the everlasting roll of fame .

" The Rev. Ronald Ross was a stout, full-blooded man, with a large head, short, stubby beard, a shock of coarse hair that always looked as if it had been recently raised to a perpen dicular position by its owner running his fingers through it, and a broad bony face; and all of a flaming red — beard, hair, and face. When he poured forth a torrent of passionate speech his face became redder than ever, his eyes got as if inflamed, and shot fire; he clenched his hands and thumped on the table, or struck out vigorously at an imaginary assailant. In sooth, he was a very terrible mau, born, some people said, two hundred years behind his time ; for nature had evidently intended him to be the dreaded chief of some war like Highland clan. This was Mr Ross's own theory. Though such a fire-eater when roused by opposition, and easily kindled to wrath, he was gentle and mild when not so excited, a never-ending talker, interlarding his conversation with quotations from the literatures of half a dozen languages or more ; he sang a good song, his voice, gesture, and posture being regulated, he never failed to observe before beginning, by strict scientific rules ; he was theologian, philosopher, historian, antiquarian, linguist, poet, actor, athlete.

The only really regrettable trait in his character was, that he never hesitated to let his many lights shine before men, or to inform them of the extent and brilliancy of these illumina tions. Everybody had a liking for the Rev. Ronald Ross; all knew that his virtues were his own, and his shortcomings bred of circumstances. For he was crazed ; much learning had made him mad, mad as a March hare. He was not con sumed with self-conceit as malicious persons suggested. Needless to add, he was a bachelor. Most of his friends agreed that, had he taken upon himself in his early manhood the responsibilities of matrimony, he would have been an entirely different man. But that saying must be dismissed into the limbo of futile might-have-beens. There was no sickly sentimentality or vain regrets in the Rev. Ronald Ross's composition, so far as the world could judge.

On the night that proved so alarming for Angus Watt and his accomplices, the vigorous old minister was in his glory. He had called at the house of Norman Sutherland, the young schoolmaster of Rhuvaig. In him the minister found one of the few persons in the village capable of giving him intellec tual pleasure. Many a night they had sat far into the small hours, making the time fly with their lively conversation. The older man felt that he had here one who heard his out pourings of learning without weariness, and who enjoyed his boisterous sallies and eccentricities; the youthful schoolmaster — he was barely twenty-three years of age — loved his strange companion, and profited considerably by his pedagogic lore. The Rev. Ronald had mounted his high horse again. In thundering voice and with furious gesture he was telling the old, old story of an encounter he had had many years before with two semi-intoxicated men, who had attempted one Sunday to bar his entrance to the church.

"Do you think I winced or trembled?" he shouted. " Did ever a Ross wince or tremble . No ! I retreated slowly twenty-five paces — I measured the distance next morning — holding my umbrella before me in a scientific manner, until I reached the door, when I performed a manœuvre which placed me in a position of safety.- But," he cried, jumping to his feet, and darting a fierce, penetrating look at Norman, " I know the human anatomy thoroughly, and with one blow from my right arm I could have sent either of these men instantly into eternity. But I did not wish to go into the pulpit with a bloody fist. No, sir ! " " I daresay not," said Norman, with a quiet smile. " And what came of tbe encounter . " " It did not end there, sir. I was not going to be cowed, to be bullied, at my own threshold. No !

I wrote to the Home Secretary demanding a full inquiry, and asking if I could or could not rely upon the authorities for protection. If not, I would invest in revolvers and clear the country side myself ! " " And—" " The Home Secretary omitted to satisfy me. But I demonstrated that I was not going to submit tamely to such ruffianism." Evidently imagining that he was engaged in one of his wonted conflicts on the floor of the Assembly, Mr Ross brought his arms smartly to the attitude of defiant defence. But as suddenly as it had risen the storm subsided, leaving the worthy clergyman strumming with his fingers on the table and humming a Gaelic love-song. About an hour from midnight the toddy glasses were brought in, and the Rev. Ronald Ross, seizing his cotton gloves and well-worn, broad-brimmed hat, recollected that he must be off.

" Have a glass of toddy before you go," said the schoolmaster. " It's a frightful night, and you must have something warm before facing that wind and rain." " My dear young friend," replied the other, laying his left palm on his chest. " It would not be wise. I do frequently take a little spirits for my stomach's sake, as the apostle re commended. But I forbear from such indulgence on Friday evenings, because I desire to have an unclouded brain when I go forth to the solitudes on the following day to meditate upon my discourse for the Sabbath." "At least remain a little longer," urged Sutherland; " wait until this downpour of rain abates. It cannot con tinue long so heavily. Besides, this is too comfortable a fire to leave so hurriedly." Yielding to these inducements, Mr Ross replaced his hat and gloves, and wheeling a cosy old arm-chair to the fire, put his feet on the fender, and held his hands out towards the flames.

" Nothing more pleasant on such a wild night as this," he said " than to sit in a close-curtained room, before a blazing fire, and with a good book. It is then that I feel life is worth living. Famous condition this rain will put the streams into. Oh ! if this had only come in the salmon fishing season." There was a comical look of chagrin on the parson's face as he gave vent to this last exclamation, for he was an enthusiastic angler, and the past season had been a total failure because of the almost complete absence of rain. One of his most prized treasures was a fat, well-worn fly book, containing a choice assortment of hooks, about each one of which there was an exciting story to be told. Mr Ross was seen on one occasion playing a big salmon with nothing above water but his head, an adventure he never failed to relate when showing his fly-book and fishing apparatus to his friends.

He was about to regale Norman with this musty anecdote, when the latter, recognising the familiar preface, interrupted him by again politely requesting him to take a glass of toddy. Mr Ross refused, hesitated, then being assured that the concoction contained no " deleterious spices of any kind whatsoever," consented to take "just one drop." "This is a generous and inspiring beverage, my dear young fellow, when it is judiciously used. When it is ju dic-ious-ly used," he slowly and emphatically repeated. " A good servant but a bad master." "And when it has not come out of the smuggler's still," added the schoolmaster. "Yes, ah, yes. I remember the days when smuggled whisky, the genuine old peat-reek, was worth drinking. Not the red-hot stuff we get nowadays, but mellow and mild ; you could drink it like milk.

But, bless you ! the fellows have no time to make it now, they are so closely watched by the Excise. Run it through the worm, and off with it — that's what's done now. Why, it's a positive pain to be at a mar riage in these days. I only take a glass for courtesy's sake ; and I can't understand how people can drink the stuff that's made hereabouts." "At Blackhead Cave, for instance," said Sutherland, as he blew out a cloud of tobacco smoke. " Ay. They're going ahead there this winter again, I believe. It is said that there are at least four stills working just now, and that they'll be kept going all the winter." " Preparing for marriages, the New Year, and next com munion, I suppose," observed Norman, with a slight touch of irony in his tone. " That is as it may be ; they know best that sell it," replied the minister, gazing meditatively into the fire.

" By the way, I hear that we'll likely be celebrating Angus Watt's marriage this winter." " And the bride of that sinister individual ? " " Flora Macalister." "Flora Macalister!" cried Sutherland, pushing back his chair and gazing at Ross with an air of astonishment and incredulity. " Flora Macalister ! Never. I don't believe it. I know her too well. She would have nothing to do with that vicious, worthless fellow. No, no ! Its nonsense." " I am but repeating the talk of the township. It's a mere rumour." "Rumour ! " exclaimed Norman. " I call it a slander ; no less. I am perfectly satisfied that Flora would have nothing to do with Watt. Why, there's not a better or prettier girl in the whole of Wester Ross ; and he — well, you know your self pretty accurately what he is." " Nothing good to be sure ; ' a man who is the abstract of all faults that all men follow,' as Shakespeare puts it.

But women's ' waxen hearts ' you know." "True. They're easily netted, poor weak things. But Flora Macalister is not one of the ordinary sort. She is one among a thousand. She's got brains and a goodly amount of common-sense. And her father, too, do you think he would allow it? No, no, no! It's foolish or malicious gossip." "Well, let us hope it is not true. And, to change the subject, when am I to have the pleasure of officiating for you ? You're getting to the marriageable age now, you know." " I am afraid the snows of age will be upon your head by that time, Mr Ross, if, indeed, "that time should ever come." "Not at all, not at all," said the minister, slapping his friend heartily on the knee ; " I'm a musty old bachelor myself, but do as I tell you, not as I do. Marry by all means, my boy.