The Young Clanroy. A romance of the '45

Preface

The following tale was told to a party of schoolboys in the dusk of summer evenings. I had little time to prepare the plot beforehand, and to humour the taste of the audience I was obliged to invent a striking episode for every evening. The tale was written out afterwards very hurriedly, simply to serve for the next generation of the boys of the same school, certainly not for publication. I have been— very reluctantly — persuaded to publish it in the hope that it may please some who, in these days of problem-novels, have still a boyish liking for a simple and straightforward story of love and adven ture. To such, and to such alone, I offer it. The narrator is supposed to be a Highland gentleman who was out in the '45, who re turned from France, after serving in the Netherlands campaign of 1746-7, not earlier than 1754, and THE YOUNG CLANROY VII who is telling the story of his life to his grand children in the winter of 1796.

The story does not profess to be strictly historical, although, in the account of the Prince's wanderings, I have closely followed the version of them given in the Lockhart Papers. There are probably several mistakes in details, but I trust that the impression given of these stirring days — the days of the last romance of the Highlands — is true to life. C. G. L. Magdalen College, Oxford : 1896. Book I DOROTHY B

Chapter I

So, boys, you want to hear my tale of the '45 ? Well, it's along story ; but they were brave days, and the hearts of Highland laddies even in this cold weather ought to be warmed by the tale of them. I'll do my best. Hamish, put another log on the fire ; and Ronald, let the dogs be, and come sit quiet on your grandfather's knee. "Well, I'll begin with January 10, 17451 — dear me, this very night fifty years ago. It was a still, lone some winter afternoon : the sun was setting grey behind the snow clouds, and the Ben was pulling them about him before he went to sleep. I had been up the glen to get some sheep out of the snow, and I was hasting home, my thoughts wandering far off to the South. For my father had gone out with the Prince five months before, and followed him to England. It seemed to me not months but years since Alaster MacDonald of Glensuiradale had Old Style— 1746 New Style. b run into the courtyard in the gloaming, his eyes wild and his legs black with the peat, shouting the news that Prince Charlie had landed, set up his standard in Glenfinnan, and summoned the clans to arms.

In three days my father was off with fifty of his men to join Glengarry at Lochshiel. What days they were to be sure — we were all half mad with excitement, father drilling the lads in the field, the lassies cutting out plaids and sewing white cockades in the bonnets, and me redding the old claymores in the big hall — father's eyes all the while blazing like live coals. Then they were off down the glen, and the wind blew back bars of the pibrochs when we lost sight of them over the Corry. Since then, scarce any news had come to us. We heard of the Prince's Court at Holyrood, and we drank the health of the King in the old ram's horn of Donald Roy Bain ; and Rory Dhu, the blind piper, blew his old pipes to ribbons in the fury of his playing. Stewart of Dalreach came back wounded from Gladsmuir, and set fire running through my limbs by his story of the great victory.

Tidings came that the Prince was in full march to London, and every day we scanned the hills for messengers to tell us that the clansmen had put ■5 DOROTHY the Regent on the throne, and that King James was back from over the water. And for me, with the blood of the MacRoys in my veins and the strength ofa nineteen-year-old tingling in my arms, it was hard to thole the long waiting, with nothing more to do than mind the sheep and keep an eye on the red-coats on the road from Fort William. So, you see, it was with scant patience that I saw the lights of the old house flicker that January 10 in the grey gloaming, and looked forward to an evening kicking my heels in the hall and hearing Jean sing ballads to the spindle. But a very different evening was in store for me. Down by the well I met Janet, the byre lassie. ' The chief's come back,' cries she, ' and eh, but it's wild and fearsome he is ! ' I ran into the courtyard and met my father at the door.

He was thin, yellow, and sore travel-stained, but his head was high and his eyes glowing. I feared him always, but most of all when these moods of excitement were on him ; so I waited for him to speak. There were no words of welcome. ' Ian,' says he, straight and sharp, ' I am here for rein forcements : I must have fifty more men of my own before nightfall to-morrow. You must be off by the dawn to your uncle's, and bring a score of his back with you. If he has no armour, let him send them with picks and scythes. It's men we want, and men of right Highland stuff — not Irish hirelings and French guns. To bed, then, for you rise with the light.' And so he passed me into the hall, swinging his long arms. ' But father,' I says, plucking up courage to speak, ' what news of the Prince ? ' He turned his head for a minute. ' The Prince ?

He's well enough, God keep him ! If he had stuck to his will and God's, it's in London I had been to-night, not scouring the hills for the leavings of our men. But the cowards have tied him to their tails.' And with this he swings into the hall, and slams the door behind him. I afterwards learned that the army, after reach ing the middle of England, had set back again for Scotland. It was hard to know why, for all had gone well with them : it was not the Prince's wish, but there had been divisions among the officers, and English friends had failed him. Some of his more ardent followers, and my father among them, had hasted North before the army, to raise more men and join the Prince in the Lowlands, where DOROTHY 7 he hoped to meet the forces of the Duke of Cum berland, who were close on his heels.

This was all the news I could take to my uncle at Glenshur. It was still dark next morning when I started on my errand. The light was not long on the snow when I reached Glenshur, and stood at my uncle's bedside. He was not a credit to our clan ; long years of rheumatism had taken the spirit out of him, and he had shown no zeal for the Prince. Some of his men had joined their chief, my father, in August, but the rest he had kept back. He had little mind to be harried by the red-coats for a rebel. He was never in the best of humours in the morning, and when he twisted his withered face out of the bedclothes at my call, there was nothing but salt and vinegar in his looks. ' Hut, tut,' snarls he ; ' who let ye in at this hour ? ' I gave him my father's message. ' Deil tak Clanroy and Glengarry, and that crack brained callant they're gone daft over !

A score of men ! it is na possible. It's more than a score your father ran off wi', and it's luck if I see the banes of them again. I tell ye I'm for peace with the red-coats, whoever be king ; this is no weather for an airin' on the gallows of Fort William. It isna to be done.' In vain I spoke of the honour of the Clanroy, even of his duty to the chief. ' It is said,' he snaps from under the bedclothes, ' and there is an end.' His wife had more spunk in her, for says she, ' The cranks in his auld body have gotten into his soul, that I should. live to say it ! ' and she gave me a brace of pistols and an ancient blunderbuss, and bade the two serving-men run off with me. This they were nothing loth to do, for it's ill waiting on camsteariness like Glenshur's. More than this I could not manage, and so, fearing mightily to face my father with this poor following, I set my steps for Glenshallachan.

It was already dark, though but early in the afternoon, when we reached the clachan. I wondered to see so little sign of a gathering of our people, for all was still as a Sunday morning. I bade Glenshur's men lag behind, as I had no wish for them to hear my father rate me for my ill success. When I reached the big door of the castle, I found it locked and barred. Now this misgave me, for it was but five o'clock, and it was not our use to make fast so early. But I rapped loud with my DOROTHY knuckles. ' Who goes there ? ' answered a voice in English. It surprised me to hear that tongue in Glenshallachan, but I was a boy not given to putting things together, and I thought it might be some of the Prince's Englishry come on the same errand as my father. ' It's me ! Ian Roy,' I called, and then the bars inside were drawn back, and the door opened.

No sooner had I stepped inside than I was gripped by the arms, thrown to the ground, and stripped of my weapons. By a light in the passage I could see that the coats of the men were red. ' What's the meaning of all this ? ' says I, when I had got my breath again. ' Meanin' ! ' laughs one of the meu, clipping his words in the way of the English, ' why this, that the young cub's trapped in his own hole.' ' Then where's my father ? ' ' He'll be where all good Highlanders go if you don't stop your kicking. There, get up, and don't glare like one of your bulls at King George's uniform.' So I knew that I was prisoner in my own home.

Chapter II

They brought me to the big hall, and thrust me in, calling my name, and mouthing it in a sort of mockery. In the light of the blazing fire I saw two red-coats sitting, and the remains of a supper on the table. It was plain at a glance they had been making very free with my father's cellar. ' Aha ! ' laughs one of them, waving his arm, ' proud to meet the young Mac — whatever you are ! But the boy looks white and tired. He must be hungry. Put him in the corner, Thomson, and give him the venison bones to pick. And you may go ; we'll entertain his Macship.' With that I was set by a table in the dark corner. I said nothing, being in a stupor of rage and fear, and watched the men at the fire. I took them by their look and talk to be petty officers. They had already drunk too much of our best French brandy, and after railing me awhile with jests I could not understand, for I had then but httle manner of DOROTHY English, they let me be, and returned to their gossip.

It was plain that in my absence the castle had been surprised by a party of red-coats, who doubtless had got wind of my father's return and intentions. I listened to their talk, though I could understand only a few snatches of it. They seemed to have forgotten me, for, in the manner of men who have drunk well, their speech was loud and free. As I got used to the way of their tongues, I gathered more of their meaning and sat very still and intent. After a while I heard matter that made me prick my ears. ' Did you hear of the Major's fine sport in Dalwhin,' says one of them. ' That old fox, Grant, has been lying low, only because he was smuggling in arms for the Pretender. The Major caught him at the trick, sent one of his own bullets through his old carcase, toppled his castle over, and made off with his pretty daughter.

And, my Gad ! a fine girl she is ! ' cries he, slapping his hand on the table. ' She was a match for the Major with her tongue, but for all her fine spirit he bagged her, and he's off with his fair game to the barracks.' At these words my heart gave a great thump. Dorothy Grant of Dalwhin a prisoner ! All thought of my father, my mother, or myself was driven clean out of me. For you must know that Miss Dorothy and I had been fast friends since we were children. We were neighbours, ten miles only between us across Loch Lochy. Her father, chief of the Dalwhin family of Grants, was kinsman to my mother. Her mother — a Forster of Northumberland, with whose father Dalwhin had been out in the insurrection of 1715, and whom he had subsequently married — had been dead for years : she was the only child, and sh£ waited on her old father in a way that was beautiful to see.

She used to spend weeks at a time with us, and I was ever ready to find reasons for visiting Dalwhin. Each was to the other, in fact, sole playfellow ; for we were both only children. There was nothing in the mind of one of us that the other did not know. In our childhood we played king and queen together in many a cave, and told one another fairy tales by the rowan tree at the burnside when the sun was setting, till we ran home together hand in hand in fear of our own fancies. When we grew to boy and girl, our ways were still the same. She was indeed DOROTHY 13 a companion fit for any spirited lad. For at the puddling of trout, or snaring of moorfowl, or climb ing of cliffs, she was a match for any lad between Glenspean and Strathglass. And yet in the house and in quiet moments on the moors she had a soft and winsome way with her that bewitched everyone from Clanroy himself to the herd laddies.

Her voice, it had the lilt of the burn in summer. (Now, Granny, keep ye quiet, for my story must be told, or make off to your own parlour.) And it was her face I always thought on when the morning sun sent his glow before him on the hills, and her laugh I heard when the grouse called to one another in the glisten of the dew. As she grew older, theblue in her eyes was touched with grey, and her mountain spirits gave way to a more settled temper of a blithe quietness. And yet at times (for this, Granny, ye had best bide to hear) she could let a fire out at her eyes and her tongue that would make me fear to see and hear her, so that she became to me as much queen as sister. But I had never pondered on my feelings about her, for she was part of my life like the air in the glen. Only once I thought it strange that when I saw my friend and kinsman, young Clanronald, smile in his talk to her with meaning eyes I felt I hated him.

But when I told her so she laughed like all the thrushes singing in the copse, and I forgot it. And now she was a red coat's prisoner ! At the thought of it, the blood boiled in every limb of me. The ways of wisdom (so I may at once confess, for my story will give too many proofs of it) were never natural to me. Without heeding what I did, for a tide of rage forced me, I sprang to my feet, and gripped the soldier next me by the throat. ' Where has he taken her ? ' I hissed between my teeth, as he fell under me with an oath to the floor. ' The devil ! ' cries the other, laying hold of me, ' I had forgotten the youngster. Let go, you young wolf, or I'll blow the brains out of you. Ho, guard ! ' At that shout, the men in the passage burst into the room and threw me on my back once more. I was at their mercy. ' My God ! ' says the one I had sprung on, ' we must keep this game-cock close. Take him to the tower on the staircase and drop him in, and leave him thereto mend his manners.' DOROTHY

Chapter III

Now, boys, I must tell you that in the old castle, the home of my boyhood, soon afterwards half burned to the ground, there was a long thin round tower at one corner — just where now is Granny's parlour. You entered it by a low door on the staircase, about four feet from the bottom of it — a door of iron, bolted on the outside. It had but one window, about two feet across, with an iron bar in the middle and full twenty feet from the ground. The walls inside were of smooth worked stone, so that no one within could climb to the window to look out ; and the light scarce reached to the damp floor. Well, then, into this gruesome hole — the Black Tower, we called it — the red-coats dropped me. It was useless to struggle : I was un armed and they were six to one. My heart sank within me as I fell in the darkness and heard the heavy bolts clang on the door above me.

It would have been bad enough to be there alone ; but I knew that there was some one with me in the tower. It was the home of a spirit — the black, uneasy spirit of Clanroy Dhu, who had murdered a priest there two hundred years ago, and the soul of the murderer had been doomed to stay there with its guilt. Night after night it would try to scale the smooth round walls, win the window, and escape ; night after night it fell back baffled with a heavy sigh. Sometimes, when the house was still, we could hear the scraping of its vain steps against the stones, and the sough of its despairing sigh ; and often I had seen my father blanch and shiver at the sound. Now these things were real to me then. I suppose I was superstitious, as they call it. It came by me naturally, for I had it from my father.

He was born on Hallowe'en, and people said he had the second sight. Sure enough he saw strange visions, and at times by the ingle I used to watch the wander of his eyes with awe. Once, too, the Riochd Laimhe ' of the Clanroy — the guardian spirit of the chiefs of our line in the hour of peril — had held him when he slipped on the cliff of Benshallachan. 1 had his blood in me, and for all my boy's pluck — which was in- Literally, 'spirit haDd ' or ' unseen hand.' DOROTHY 17 deed, though I say it, behind none — I was as full of eeriness as a pine-wood on a dark night. No wonder, then, that my blood ran cold when I found myself alone in the Black Tower, with the spirit of Clanroy Dhu somewhere beside me. An hour or so must have passed when my fear waxed to terror. The night was still as death — no sound reached me but now and again the bleat of a sheep in the snow.

But suddenly I heard a scraping noise on the stones of the tower — whether without or within I could not distinguish in my fright. It was followed in a second by another, and then another and another. It was quite plainly the noise of feet trying to get a hold on the walls. I crouched into a corner on the floor, and I felt my heart beating like the blows of a smith on the anvil. Still, slow, and painful the hard climbing of those spirit feet. At last for a minute they ceased, and then another sound set my heart beating again. It seemed to come from the top of the tower, where the window was placed. It was a low, grinding sound, like a file working through iron. ' He is trying to escape by the window,' I thought in my terror. Every moment I expected to hear the stifled sigh, and then the baffled spirit c would fall back to the ground beside me ! ' Ach, ach, achone ! ' The sound ofa deep-drawn groan fell on me like a sheet of ice, and froze my blood.

I seemed to feel something cold and damp fall over me, and my heart stood still. I suppose I swooned, for how long I know not, probably only a minute or two. The sound I heard as I came to myself set my heart on its way again . ' Mister Ian, Mister Ian ! ' a voice whispered hoarsely from the darkness at the top of the tower, ' Mister Ian ! are ye there ? ' I seemed to know the voice, and yet my wits, still distraught with the terror, could not give it an owner. ' Mister Ian ! are ye no there ? ' it sounded again. And then of a sudden the thought came to me — ' It is Jamie, the idiot boy ! ' Jamie ! ah me, what memories the name brings back to me, memories of the truest of friends and most devoted of servants. May he rest in peace ! Many years before I was born, a poor misshapen and half-witted laddie had wandered into the glen.

Who he was and whence he came he either would not or could not tell ; from his speech folk reckoned him a Lowlander. But there was a look of bright open- DOROTHY ness and faithfulness in the deep blue eyes looking out from beneath tufts of shaggy red eyebrows that took the fancy of our people. They gladly let him bide among them ; there was meal and straw for him in every house. Gradually he picked up some Gaelic, though when excited his Lowland speech came readiest to him. He was ever on the alert to do anyone a good turn. He was a mighty delight to the bairns, for he could mimic to the life the sounds and ways of birds and animals. He would bring them bonnetfuls of blaeberries and brambles, fetch rare eggs and strange beasties from rock and burn, and croon daft songs that shook them with laughter or stilled them with wonder.

One of my first remembrances is of being set as a baby in his big brown hands, crowing at the strange ways of his slobbering tongue, and clutching with infinite delight at his shaggy red hair. The great strength of his over-long arms made him serviceable for carrying heavy loads ; and no miles could tire, no stones or thorns hurt the huge feet that splayed out from his short bent legs like the webs of a duck. Whiles he would vanish for days, and then return, and neither did folks ask him, nor did he tell where he had been ; c but in his wanderings he learned the track of every stream, and the passes of every mountain, so that the whole wild country of Badenoch, Lochaber, and Lochiel, as far as the sea at Moidart and Arisaig, was an open and a kennt road to him. The face of a cliff he would climb as a fly walks up a pane of glass.

He could not reckon further than ten upon his fingers without losing count, but he knew the secrets of the weather. He was familiar with the ways of all wild birds and beasts, for he lived among them like a brother ; the grouse would run to his call, and I have seen him tickle the backs of the red deer. From the first, he made himself my devoted henchman ; many were the seampers I had with him across the hills, when I rode him like a pony and thwacked him till he laughed loud with joy. He was to me horse, dog, friend and teacher all in one. The only person who rivalled me in his devotion was Dorothy Grant of Dalwhin ; and his ways with her were full of a quietness and simple chivalry that made the women bless him in their hearts when they watched them. I had seen even Clanroy, my father, at times lay his hand on Jamie's shaggy head as a man soothes his favourite hound.

A ' natural,' DOROTHY indeed, the boy was, for I have thought that all that is beautiful in the mere nature of animals and men had found its way past the poor puzzled wits into the soul of our Jamie, God bless his simple heart ! But we must hark back to the Black Tower. ' Mister Ian ! are ye there ? ' came the hoarse whisper again in the darkness. ' Ay, Jamie lad ! ' says I, and my voice sounded strange in the still ness. ' Then baud ye whisht, or ye'll wauken the red-coats. Feel for a rope that I'm casting ye frae the window ; I'se make it fast on the stump of the bar, and pull yersel' up wi' it.' I heard a cord switch against the stones, felt for it, pulled it taut, and then slowly raised myself by it, making with my feet against the round walls just the scraping noise of the Black Spirit.

When I reached the window I could still see nothing, but I heard the hard breathing of Jamie on the outside. I got my knees into the window-sill and rested. ' Pull up the rope and cast it out on the ither side,' he whispered ; ' I've filed the auld iron bar, and ye can squeeze yersel' through, but tak' tent for the stumps. Haud a grip on the rope, and let yersel' down on the ither side after me.' With that I felt THE YTOUNG CLANROY the rope stiffen on the outside. I waited, and then a whisper came from the ground. ' Noo then, saft and canny.' I squeezed myself through the window, only tearing my coat on the upper stump of the bar, and let -myself quietly down by the rope. When I reached the bottom, two long arms hugged me till I thought my bones would break, and a shaggy head was rubbed against mine. ' Ach, my ain darlin' laddie !

The Lord be praised ! ' whispers my deliverer. ' But bide still for a meenit, I'll jist snap the rope to bamboozle the red-coats.' Up again he scaled, and then I heard him fall soft but heavy on the grass beside me. He seized my hand, and ' Noo then,' says he, ' aff to the heather.' We crept swiftly along together, when Jamie suddenly paused. I heard a long yawn coming from a few paces ahead. ' Whisht ! ' whispers he, ' the sentry.' He stopped, and as ill-luck would have it I stumbled heavily against a stone. ' Who goes ? ' cries the soldier, springing up at the sound. ' Moo-oo,' answers Jamie, mimicking the mutter of a calf so ludicrously true that I could not forbear a chuckle. ' Ah ! ' says the sentry, ' some cattle loose,' and yawns again. So we walked boldly on, crossed DOROTHY 23 the bridge, and in a few moments found ourselves safe on the open moor. Once again I suffered a silent hug ; and then, when we had put about half a mile between us and the castle, we set a talking in whispers.

Chapter IV

Jamie's story was soon told in answer to my questions. The company of red-coats had arrived about three in the afternoon. The men whom my father had summoned had not yet come up ; in the bustle of preparations no one had seen the approach of the soldiers, and the surprise was complete. The people had taken to the hills, and to my joy I learned that my father, who had been over the Corry when the castle was taken, was with them. Only Jean and the serving-maids were within. Jamie had missed me on the way from Glenshur, then, fearing my capture, he had lain all evening among the bushes at the big door on the chance of picking up some news. He had heard the scuffle in the passage, and, luckily also, the loud voice of the sergeant ordering the men to put me in the Black Tower. Soon after, finding that no guard had been placed on that side of the castle, he had under cover of the darkness fetched a file DOROTHY from the deserted smithy, and scaled the wall with infinite difficulty.