Chapter M: S.271 (2)

The next day, Sunday, was one of anxiety. The boatmen had lost their track, and had no compass; the wind had changed, it was then calm. They made, however, towards Waternish, in the west of Skye; but they found the place possessed by militia, and three boats were visible near the shore. A man on board one of the boats fired at them; on which they made away as fast as they could; for, in addition to that danger, several ships of war were now in sight. The Prince and his friends took shelter, therefore, in a cleft of a rock on the shore, and there remained to rest the men, who had been up all night, and to prepare their provisions for dinner. The party then resumed their voyage: fortunately it was calm, for otherwise, in any distress of weather, they must have been overtaken and have perished, for an alarm had already been given of the appearance of a strange boat, and the militia were upon the watch; the promised reward set upon Charles having excited all the vigilance of his enemies. At length, after rowing some time, they landed at Kilbride in Troternish, in Skye, about twelve miles to the north of Waternish. But several parties of militia were in the neighbourhood. Flora now quitted the boat, and went with Neil Mac Kechan to Mugstat, the residence of Sir Alexander Macdonald: here she desired one of the servants to apprise Lady Macdonald of her arrival. The lady was not unprepared to receive her, for a kinswoman had gone a short time before to tell her of the enterprise in which Flora had engaged.

Lady Margaret was well disposed to give the cause every assistance in her power. She was the daughter of the celebrated Susanna, Countess of Eglintoune, and of Alexander, ninth Earl of Eglintoune, who was supposed, while ostensibly supporting the family on the throne, to be a secret friend of the Stuarts.[285] Lady Margaret was one of seven sisters, famed for their loveliness, and for the "Eglintoune air," a term applied to that family as a tribute to the lofty grace of their deportment. "It was a goodly sight," observes Mr. Chambers, "a century ago, to see the long processions of sedans containing Lady Eglintoune and her daughters devolve from the Close,[286] and proceed to the Assembly Rooms in the West Bow, where there was usually a considerable crowd of plebeian admirers congregated, to behold their lofty and graceful figures step from the chairs on the pavement." Lady Margaret was greatly beloved in Skye. When she rode through the island, the people ran before her, and took the stones off the road, lest her horse should stumble. Her husband was also very popular. Such was the hospitality of Mugstat, that every week a hogshead of claret was drunk at his table.[287]

Lady Margaret had now been married six years to Sir Alexander Macdonald of Macdonald. She was the mother of three sons, two of whom were eminently distinguished. The first, Sir James Macdonald, was a young man of singular accomplishments, and the friend of Lord Lyttleton; he was endowed "with great talents for business, great propriety of behaviour, great politeness of manners." To these acquirements he added those amiable qualities, which, united to great erudition, procured him the title of the "Marcellus of the Western Isles." His early death was regarded as a general calamity; his tomb was honoured by an inscription composed by Lyttleton. When Dr. Johnson visited the isle of Skye, this young man, who died at Rome in the twenty-fifth year of his age, was still mentioned with tears. His brother, Sir Alexander, the English-bred chieftain, but ill-supplied his loss. He was no Highlander. "Were I in your place, sir," said Johnson to the young chieftain, "in seven years I would make this an independent island. I would roast oxen whole, and hang out a flag as a signal to the Macdonalds to come and get beef and whiskey." Sir Alexander, of whom Johnson had heard heavy complaints of rents racked, and the islanders driven to emigration, bore with politeness the rough assaults of the Doctor: he nevertheless started difficulties. "Nay, sir," rejoined Johnson, "if you are born to object, I have done with you, sir. I would have a magazine of arms." "They would rust," was the meek reply. "Let there be men to clean them," cried the Doctor, "your ancestors did not use to let their arms rust!" Such was Lady Margaret's second son. The third, and youngest son of Lady Margaret, revived, however, all the fondly remembered virtues of Sir James. Some persons may still recall the benignant appearance of the late venerable Sir Archibald Macdonald, Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer in England: there are many who must recollect his virtues and acquirements with respect.

The character of Lady Margaret was not that of her second son; but of a spirited generous woman. She was not one who would allow the arms of her ancestors "to rust." Before the Prince's arrival, her energies had been employed in contriving the fittest route for him to take after leaving Mugstat, for she was as enthusiastic an adherent of Charles Edward as any of her female relations. Whilst he was in North Uist, he had sent Lady Margaret a letter, enclosed, by Hugh Macdonald of Balishair, to his brother Donald Roy Macdonald, with orders to deliver it to Lady Margaret alone; and, in case of attack while at sea, to sink it, by tying it to a stone. This letter revealed the secret of the Prince's intention to quit the Long Island: it informed Lady Margaret that Charles wanted almost all necessary habiliments; and desired that some shirts and blankets might be provided for him; the Prince having hitherto slept only in his plaid, a custom which he retained almost constantly during his wanderings. Balishair's letter had also unfolded a plan at that time in contemplation, that Charles should take refuge on the small grass-island called Fladdanuach, belonging to Sir Alexander Macdonald, and having only one tenant upon it. Thither Lady Margaret was to send Donald Roy Macdonald with the articles to be in readiness for the Prince.

Lady Margaret had instantly complied with these injunctions. Eventually the notion of making Fladdanuach the retreat of Charles was given up; but the zealous Lady Margaret had made the most careful preparations for that scheme, and it was not from any negligence on her part that it was abandoned. The packet sent by Balishair contained, however, another valuable paper. This was a letter written in Prince Charles's own hand, chiefly one of compliment, and full of gratitude to Lady Margaret for sending him newspapers, which had been delivered to him through Macdonald of Balishair.

This precious letter had, some time before Flora had arrived at Mugstat, been delivered to Lady Margaret. When she received it, she rose from her seat, and kissing it said, alluding to a precaution which had been recommended, "I will never burn it; I will preserve it for the sake of him who wrote it to me. Although King George's forces should come to the house, I shall find means to secure it." Afterwards, however, her house being searched by the dreaded Fergusson, she considered it necessary for Charles's safety to burn it; although, as it proved, there was no search whatsoever for papers.

Lady Margaret had been aided in her efforts and plans by a zealous kinsman, Captain Roy Macdonald, who had been wounded at the battle of Culloden. This person was still under medical care, and was living in the house of a surgeon named Maclean, at Troternish. When Charles landed at Skye, Roy Macdonald, wounded as he was, had sailed to Fladdanuach, at Lady Margaret's bidding, with clothes and money, and had returned just in time to witness her perplexity at the Prince's unexpected arrival.

Upon that event being made known by Flora Macdonald to Lady Margaret, she sent a message to Captain Roy Macdonald, entreating him to come to her immediately. He complied, and found Lady Margaret walking in the garden of Mugstat, talking very earnestly to Alexander Macdonald of Kingsburgh, a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who acted as factor, or chamberlain, to Sir Alexander. As Roy Macdonald approached, Lady Margaret exclaimed, holding up her hands, "Oh, Donald Roy, we are ruined for ever!" It was then imparted to him that the Prince was within a quarter of a mile from Mugstat, in woman's clothes; that Lieutenant Macleod, who was employed to guard that part of Skye, and three or four of his militia-men, were about the house; a number of others being not far distant: what was still more alarming, Flora Macdonald and the Lieutenant were at that time conversing together in the dining-room.

A consultation immediately ensued as to the plan the most proper to ensure Charles Edward's safety. Donald Roy Macdonald declared, that, whatever they should agree upon, "He would undertake (God willing) to accomplish at the risk of his life." Kingsburgh was first called upon to give his opinion. He proposed that the Prince should sail by the point of Troternish to Raasay, because it would be impossible for him to remain in Skye with safety. This plan was, however, opposed by Lady Margaret, who said, that, if the Prince was to sail for Raasay, it were better that he should remain at Mugstat all night. In short, no scheme appeared practicable; and the consultation was frequently broken off in despair, and renewed only to start fresh difficulties. At last Donald Roy said, "What do you think, Kingsburgh, if the Prince should run the risk of making his way over to Portree by land?" Kingsburgh, notwithstanding that he was full of apprehension, thought that the plan might be tried, although the distance from Mugstat to Portree was fourteen long Highland miles. At first it was decided that Donald Roy should be the bearer of this scheme to the Prince; but it was afterwards argued, that, since the Prince must make "a monstrous figure" in woman's clothes, there might be some suspicion excited by Donald Roy's talking to so singular a stranger. It was therefore determined that no one except Flora Macdonald should be entrusted with the perilous task of taking messages to Charles at his station on the shore. Lady Margaret in the course of this conversation expressed "that she was in great difficulties." It was impossible that she could apply to any of the Clan for assistance. The general belief was, that Sir Alexander Macdonald was unfriendly to the Prince, and that no greater favour could be shown by the chief than seizing the royal fugitive. This increased the danger of Charles's remaining in Skye, and threw her entirely upon the good offices of Kingsburgh and Roy Donald.

During this conference Flora Macdonald was keeping up what she afterwards described to Bishop Forbes as "a close chit-chat" with Lieutenant Macleod, who put to her questions which she answered as "she thought fit." Lady Margaret, meantime, could not forbear going in and out in great anxiety; a circumstance which Flora observed, and which could not but add to her embarrassment; nevertheless, this extraordinary young woman maintained the utmost composure. She even dined in company with the Lieutenant without betraying her perplexity in a single instance: never was the value of that admirable quality, presence of mind, more forcibly seen than in this instance. It had been the office of the Lieutenant to examine every boat that had landed, and to investigate into the motives and destination of every passenger. How the boat which had conveyed the Prince to Skye escaped search has not been explained. At all events, Flora completely baffled every inquiry; and perhaps no one could do so better than a Scottish woman. The ordinary caution in reply, observable in Highland females, is very striking. The Prince was awaiting his fate all this time upon the rock at the shore, not above a gun-shot from the foot of the garden. The faithful and anxious servant Mac Kechan went to him repeatedly, but without molestation; and Macdonald of Kingsburgh, who could not controul his anxiety to see Charles Edward, providing himself with a bottle of wine and some bread, also repaired to him. The Prince was then sitting upon the shore, having startled a flock of sheep, the running of which first attracted Kingsburgh to the place where he was planted.

Charles had removed to a more distant spot than that which he had at first selected, for he had been apprised by Neil Mac Kechan of Kingsburgh's intended visit, and conducted by that faithful servant to the back of a certain hill, where he was requested to wait until Kingsburgh should reach him. It was also announced to Charles by Neil, that he was to go to Portree, resting by the way at the house of Kingsburgh, who was a staunch Jacobite.

When Kingsburgh drew near to the place where Charles awaited him, he saw the Prince approaching him with a short thick cudgel (not a very feminine appendage) in his hand. "Are you," cried Charles, "Mr. Macdonald of Kingsburgh?" "Yes, sir," replied Kingsburgh. "Then," said Charles, "all is well; come let us be going." Macdonald, however, first begged the Prince to partake of some refreshment, which he did; the top of a rock serving for a table. This being done, they proceeded on their journey; Kingsburgh telling his fellow-traveller with no less admiration than joy, "that he could recollect no cause either of business or duty for his being at Mugstat that day." "I'll tell you the cause," said the Prince; "Providence sent you hither to take care of me."

They were now interrupted by some country-people coming from the kirk. These sociable rustics were disposed to favour the Prince and his companion with their conversation. Kingsburgh could think of no other way of getting rid of them than saying, "Eh, sirs! cannot ye let alone talking o' your worldly affairs on the sabbath? and have patience till another day?" The poor people took the pious hint and moved off.[288]

For some time after the Prince had set out, Flora remained at Mugstat, where Lady Margaret, who could only speak to her in presence of the officer, pressed her much to stay, and feigned a great anxiety to retain her for a few days, telling her that she had promised to do so the first time that she came that way. But Flora excused herself, saying that she wanted to be at home in these troublesome times, and also to see her mother. She was at length suffered to depart, accompanied by Mrs. Macdonald of Kirkibost, the lady who had apprised Lady Margaret of her visit, but who was not in the secret of the Prince's disguise. This lady's maid and man servant, and Mac Kechan completed the party. Lady Margaret during the whole of this agitating affair never saw the Prince "in any shape."[289]

Flora and her companions soon overtook the Prince and Kingsburgh. They found the curiosity of her companion somewhat inconvenient, for Mrs. Macdonald was very anxious to see the "strange woman's" face; but it was always turned away from her inquisitive gaze. Yet Mrs. Macdonald made her observations nevertheless. "She never," she said, "had seen before such an impudent-looking woman--and she must either be an Irish woman, or a man in woman's clothes!" Flora, who had the happy and rare art of not saying too much, replied that "she was an Irishwoman, for she had seen her before." The maid who attended Mrs. Macdonald took notice of the supposed Irish woman's awkward way of managing her petticoats, and remarked what long strides she took in walking. In particular, in wading a rivulet, the Prince lifted up his troublesome garments so high, that Mac Kechan called out to him "for God's sake to take care, or he would discover himself." Charles laughed heartily, and thanked him for his cautions: he much feared that they would be neglected. Flora began to be apprehensive of the loquacious and observant mistress and maid. She, as well as Mrs. Macdonald, was now on horseback, and she proposed that the ladies should go on a little faster, and leave those on foot to take their time. There was another object in this arrangement: the country was traversed by parties of militia, and it was necessary for the Prince and Kingsburgh to diverge by a cross-road over the hills to the place of their destination. They went therefore by by-paths, south-south-east, to Kingsburgh's house, which they reached at midnight; Flora having arrived there a short time before. She had parted with her other companions on the road.

During this journey of seven long miles, which were performed in a drenching rain, there was no slight risk, owing to the very singular demeanour of the Prince, and to the awkwardness with which he performed his part. Betty Burke was regarded by the gazing passers-by as a very strange woman. When the country-people greeted him with an obeisance, he returned it with a bow instead of a curtsey; and in all his gestures he forgot the woman, and retained the man. After the remonstrance upon holding his skirts too high, he let them fall down into the streams which often intersected his path. "Your enemies, sir," remarked Kingsburgh, "call you a Pretender, but you are the worst at your trade that I ever saw." "Why," replied Charles laughing, "they do me perhaps as much injustice in this as in other respects. I have all my life despised assumed characters, and am the worst dissembler in the world."

Lady Kingsburgh, not expecting her husband that night, had retired to rest; and her house was not at this time in the best possible condition for receiving visitors. Kingsburgh, however, introduced Charles into the hall, and sent a servant up-stairs to desire Lady Kingsburgh to rise and dress herself. But the lady was not disposed to comply with her husband's commands that night. She sent a message to beg that he and his guests would help themselves to whatsoever they found in the house, and excuse her absence. As soon as she had despatched this answer, her daughter, a child of seven years of age, ran into the room, and told her, with much astonishment, that her father had brought home the most odd "_ill-shaken-up wife_" that she had ever seen, and had conducted her into the hall. Kingsburgh now made his appearance, and entreated his wife to come down-stairs, her presence being absolutely requisite.[290] Lady Kingsburgh was now really aroused. She could not help suspecting that her husband had taken into his house some of those proscribed and wretched fugitives who were skulking about the country. She could well imagine the distress of many of the Jacobites, for a paper had been, for some weeks, read in the kirks, forbidding all persons to give any sort of sustenance to a rebel, under pain of being deprived of it themselves.[291]

She now dressed herself, sending her little girl into the hall to fetch her keys. The child went down-stairs, but returned, saying that she could not go into the hall, the "strange woman" was walking backwards and forwards in so frightful a manner. Lady Kingsburgh therefore went herself, but stopped short at the door on seeing the stranger, whose aspect seems to have been unusually gaunt and unwomanly. Her husband, however, bade her go in for her keys, and at last she found courage to enter.

As she walked into the hall, Charles arose from his seat and advanced to meet her. According to the custom of the day, which applied both to ladies and gentlemen, he offered her the compliment of a salute. Lady Kingsburgh felt the roughness of no woman's cheek against her own. Alarmed at the discovery, she nearly fainted; she spoke not, neither did the stranger. She went hastily towards Kingsburgh, and told him her suspicions. No reproaches were uttered on her part for the introduction, which had evidently some risk connected with it; she merely asked, "Does this strange woman know anything about the Prince?" Her husband, taking her hand, replied, "My dear, this is the Prince himself." "The Prince!" returned Lady Kingsburgh; "then we shall all be hanged!" "We can die but once," answered Kingsburgh; "could we die in a better cause? We are only doing an act of humanity."

He then desired her to send in supper. "Let us have eggs, butter, cheese, or whatever can be procured in the shortest time." The lady remonstrated. "Eggs, butter, and cheese for a Prince!" "he will never look at such a supper." "Ah, my dear," returned Kingsburgh, "you little know how this poor Prince has fared of late. Our supper will be a banquet to him. Besides, any formal preparation would excite suspicion. Make haste, and come to supper yourself." Lady Kingsburgh had now a new source of alarm. "_I_ come to supper!" she cried; "I do not know how to behave before a Prince." She was reassured by her husband, who told her that there was no difficulty in behaving before _this_ Prince, who was so easy and obliging.

The party, who had undergone such a day's journey, sat up nearly till dawn, and became merry over their supper. Never was there a more joyous or inspiring guest at a feast than the unfortunate Charles. He was now in the house of a trusted adherent; and his spirits, which had been unaltered even in huts and caverns, gladdened all present. His favourite toast, was "To the Black Eye!" by which, as his pilot to the Long Island, Donald Macleod, relates, he meant the second daughter of France; "and I never heard him," said Donald, "name any particular health but that alone. When he spoke of that lady, which he did frequently, he appeared to be more than ordinarily well-pleased."[292]

The Prince ate heartily, and drank a bumper of brandy to the health of his host and hostess. When the ladies had retired, he took out a little black piece of tobacco-pipe which had been his consolation in all his wanderings, and began to smoke. Like most persons who have recourse to a similar practice, Prince Charles framed an excuse for it on the plea of health, telling Kingsburgh, that he had found it essential, in order to cure the tooth-ache, from which he had suffered much. His pipe had obtained the name, among his companions, of the "_cutty_".

A small china punch-bowl was then produced by the host, and was twice replenished with the very popular beverage called toddy, of which the Prince expressed his unqualified approbation. Conversation, thus aided and exhilarated, flowed freely; and the charm of Charles's gay courtesy was long remembered by his Highland landlord, who thus, at the risk of all that was dear to him, welcomed the unfortunate wanderer to his home. Morning dawned before either the Prince or Kingsburgh talked of retiring. At last Kingsburgh became anxious. He knew that it was necessary for Charles to proceed to Portree early the next day; and he earnestly desired that the Prince should have some rest. He refused to fill the bowl again, and began to urge his Highness to retire. Charles eagerly pressed for another supply of usquebaugh and warm water. In the contention, the bowl, which Kingsburgh had brought from Mugstat for the Prince to drink the wine out of on the shore, was broken. This ended the altercation, and Charles retired to rest.

The next day was far advanced before the Prince, after his conviviality of the preceding evening, was aroused; and the watchful Flora in vain sent Kingsburgh into his chamber to persuade him to rise. Kingsburgh had not the heart to awaken the fugitive from a repose which he so rarely enjoyed, and, on finding him in a profound sleep, retired. At last, one o'clock had struck, and the Prince was summoned to begin another journey. Kingsburgh, inquiring if he had had a good night, was answered that he had never enjoyed a better one in his life. "I had almost forgotten," said Charles, "what a good bed was." He then prepared to set out. He was first to go to Portree; his destination being, ultimately, the island of Raasay. The choice of this place as a retreat originated in the ancient league which subsisted between the families of Macdonald and of Raasay. Whenever the head of either family died, his sword was given to the head of the other. The chief of Raasay had joined the Highland army, but had saved his estate by conveying it to his son, young Macleod. Sir Alexander Macdonald, on that occasion, had thus addressed his neighbour and ally: "Don't be afraid, Raasay; I'll use my interest to keep you safe; and, if your estate should be taken, I'll buy it for the family. And he would have done it."[293]

On quitting Kingsburgh, the Prince was determined to cast off his disguise. Kingsburgh was favourable to the change, but Flora would not consent to it: it was necessary, she thought, that the wanderer should leave the house in the same dress as he had entered it; so that, if inquiry were made, the servants would not be able to describe his appearance. He, therefore, once more figured in the habiliments of Betty Burke; and the only change, which was at the suggestion of Kingsburgh, was in the article of shoes; those in which he had walked being now worn out; a new pair was therefore supplied by Kingsburgh. When the exchange was made, Kingsburgh hung up the old shoes in a corner of his room, observing, that they might still do him some service. Charles inquired, "How?" "Why," replied Kingsburgh, "when you are at St. James's, I shall hold up these shoes before you, and thus remind you of your night's entertainment and protection under my roof." Charles, with a smile, desired him to be as "good as his word." These precious deposits, never being required to appear at St. James's, were, after old Kingsburgh's death, cut into pieces, and kept as relics by the Jacobite ladies, and even by the grave but enthusiastic Bishop Forbes.[294]

It had been decided that Flora Macdonald should proceed on horseback to Portree by a different road, and should meet the Prince there. She therefore took a temporary leave of Charles; and Kingsburgh accompanied him to a wood not far from his house. When the Prince had departed, Lady Kingsburgh went up-stairs, and folded up the sheets in which he had slept, declaring that they should never be washed nor used till her death, when they should be made into her winding-sheet. She was afterwards induced to divide this valuable memorial with Flora Macdonald.

Mac Kechan, and a little herd-boy by way of a guide, alone accompanied the Prince, as he set out upon a laborious walk of fourteen miles towards Portree. It would have excited much suspicion, had any more important persons attended him. At an appointed place Charles threw off his female attire, and again "grasped the claymore." His clothes were concealed in a bush until they could be carried to Kingsburgh's house, where they were burnt upon the alarm of a search on the part of the military. The gown only was retained, by the express desire of Kingsburgh's daughter.[295] The Prince now once more wore the Highland dress, which had been furnished him by Kingsburgh.

Meantime, Captain Roy Macdonald had gone to seek the young Macleod of Raasay, or, as he was called, Rona, whose very brother-in-law, Archibald Macqueen, was then in search for the Prince in South Uist. Young Macleod, though at first indisposed to confide the place where his father had taken refuge to Roy Macdonald, ended eventually by expressing, both on his own part and on that of his father, the strongest desire to serve the Prince, especially in his distress. "Then," said Roy Macdonald, "I expect the Prince this night at Portree; and as there is no boat on this side fit to carry him over to Raasay, you must do your best, Rona, to get one for the purpose to ferry the Prince over to Raasay, for thither he means to set out from Portree." Rona undertook this service, but was unwilling to leave Portree until he should see the Prince; for he had not been "out" in the last campaign. But, being repeatedly urged by Roy Macdonald, he at last embarked in a crazy old boat which filled perpetually with water, and could only with assistance be made to convey passengers from Portree to Raasay, a distance nearly of five miles. Before young Raasay embarked, Roy Macdonald had received a note from Kingsburgh, importing that Flora Macdonald was so fatigued that she could not go to Portree so soon as she had intended; and ordering the captain to provide a boat to ferry her about to Strath, because it would be easier to her "to make it out" by sea than overland. Captain Roy Macdonald took the hint, and judged exactly for whom the boat thus carefully alluded to was to be provided. On Monday the thirtieth of June, young Raasay, and his brothers Murdoch Macleod and Malcolm Macleod, arrived after a short, but perilous voyage within a mile of Portree. Malcolm went to the shore, leaving Rona in the boat. As he walked from the beach, he saw three persons approaching. It is said, that at Raasay nine months of the year are rainy. This June evening was one of the rainy periods; and Malcolm Macleod could not, through the darkness, discover who these three persons were. The place of meeting agreed upon was a small public-house near the shore, about half a mile from the port of Portree; to this house Malcolm Macleod sent to Captain Roy Macdonald, desiring him to come out and speak to a friend. Roy Macdonald complied with the summons, taking with him a half mutchkin stoup full of whiskey. Macleod then informed him that Rona and his brother Murdoch were on the shore with a boat, which, with much difficulty and danger they had brought from Raasay to convey the Prince to that island; he begged that they would not delay, as it was raining very heavily.

Donald Roy Macdonald then told Malcolm that the three persons whom he had seen going towards the public-house were the Prince, Mac Kechan, and the herd-boy. Of their approach he had been apprized by the energetic Flora, who had arrived at Portree some hours previously.

Donald Roy Macdonald, who is described as being the model of "a perfect Highland gentleman," shared the enthusiasm of Flora. Although still lame from the wound in his foot, he had, during the course of that evening, looked out incessantly for the Prince, but was unable to see him. He had not, however, been long in the public-house, before the voice of the herd-boy calling for the landlord, and desiring to know if one Donald Roy Macdonald were there, drew his attention. He stepped out, and was told by the boy that there was a gentleman, a little above the house, who desired to speak to him. The captain sent the boy away, and immediately went to the spot where the Prince stood. Charles embraced him, putting his head first over one shoulder, and then over the other; and telling Donald to use no ceremony, for that it was impossible to know who might be observing them. When Donald expressed his regret at the darkness of the night, Charles said, "I am more sorry that _our lady_" (so he called Flora Macdonald) "should be so abused with the rain."

After they entered the house, a curious scene took place. "The Prince," relates Donald Roy,[296] "no sooner entered the house than he asked if a dram could be got there, the rain pouring down from his clothes; he having on plaid, without breeches, trews, or even philibeg. Before he sat down, he got his dram; and then the company desired him to shift, and put on a dry shirt, Captain Roy Macdonald giving him his philibeg. The Prince refused to shift, as Miss Flora Macdonald was in the room; but the captain and Neil Mac Kechan told him, it was not time to stand upon ceremonies, and prevailed upon him to put on a dry shirt. By this time they had brought some meat into the room, (the Prince having called for it before he would think of shifting,) which consisted of butter, cheese, bread, and roasted fish."

The Prince was so hungry and exhausted, after a walk from Kingsburgh to Portree, "seven good Highland miles," that he began to eat before he put on his coat. The supply of food which he had brought with him consisted of a cold hen, a bottle of brandy, and a lump of sugar in one of his pockets: these, with the addition of a bottle of whiskey procured at Portree, constituted his store of provisions until he reached Raasay. On seeing the Prince eat heartily, whilst only in his shirt and philibeg, Captain Donald Macdonald could not forbear smiling. "Sir," he observed, "I believe that is the English fashion," "What fashion do you mean?" asked the Prince. "They say," replied Donald, "that the English, when they eat heartily, throw off their clothes." "They are right," answered Charles, "lest anything should incommode their hands when they are at work." The Prince then asked, if any drink could be had. He was told that he could have nothing but whiskey or water, for no such thing as beer or ale was to be had in the isle of Skye. Then Charles asked if he could have some milk, but was informed that there was none in the house. The only beverage which seemed attainable was water, of which there was a supply in what Captain Donald Macdonald called an "ugly cog," which the landlord of the house used for throwing water out of his boat. This vessel though coarse, was clean. "The captain," relates Donald Roy, "had been taking a drink out of the cog, and he reached it to the Prince,[297] who took it out of his hand, and, after looking at the cog, he stared the captain in the face, who upon this made up to him (the landlord being in the room), and whispered him softly in the ear to drink out of it without any ceremony; for though the cog looked ill, yet it was clean; and, if he should show any nicety, it might raise a suspicion about him in the landlord's mind. The Prince said, 'You are right,' and took a hearty draught of water out of the rough cog, and then he put on his coat."

During all this scene, Captain Roy Macdonald could scarcely disguise his anxiety that the Prince should leave Portree. But Charles was reluctant to relinquish shelter and society; the rain was still heavily pouring down, and the night on which the unfortunate wanderer was again to trust his fate to strangers was very dark. In vain, therefore, did Macdonald, when the landlord had left the room, represent to Charles, that this, being a public-house, was frequented by all "sorts of folks," and that some curiosity would be excited by his appearance. There was, indeed, no rest for the proscribed fugitive. Charles then asked for tobacco, that he might smoke a pipe "before he went off." Macdonald answered, that there was no tobacco, except that which was very coarse; only "roll tobacco." But Charles persisted in having it, saying "that it would serve his horn very well." The landlord therefore was ordered to bring in a quarter of a pound, which he did in scales, at four-pence halfpenny. The Prince gave a sixpence, but the landlord was desired by Captain Macdonald to bring in the change. Charles smiled at Donald Roy's exactness, and said he would not be at the trouble to pick up the halfpence; but Donald Roy persuaded him to do so, saying, that in his Highness's present situation he would find "bawbees very useful to him."

A bottle of whiskey having been dispatched between the Prince, Donald Roy Macdonald, and Neil Mac Kechan, and the pipe being finished, Charles reluctantly began to talk of his departure. He had learned to rely upon the fidelity of the brave Clan, one young and gentle daughter of which had protected him from South Uist, and brought him through a country swarming with militia to Portree. He was unwilling to be separated from Donald Roy, and entreated him in a low voice to accompany him. But Donald begged him to remember that it was not in his power to be useful to him, considering the open wound in his left foot; that he should only prove a burden to him, for it would be out of his power to skulk from place to place; and indeed it would be necessary for him to ride on horseback, so that any of the parties of militia who were ranging about would be sure to descry him at a distance, and that would be ruin to the chance of escape. Charles then said, that "he had always found himself safe in the hands of a Macdonald, and that, as long as he could have a Macdonald with him, he still should think himself safe." Again and again he urged this point. It was affecting to see how confidingly this ill-fated young man, noble in his nature, leaned upon those whom he had learned to trust. It is melancholy to reflect that a temper so kindly should ever have been worked up, and irritated almost to madness, by those intrigues and misrepresentations which eventually, combining with the wreck of his other moral qualities, alienated him from all who really loved him.

"The Prince," as Donald relates, "could not think of parting with him at all." This was the first time that Charles had entrusted himself, without a single familiar friend or attendant, to strangers. "Are you," he said, again addressing Donald, "afraid to go with me? So long as _I_ have, you shall not want." Again Captain Macdonald referred to his crippled foot: "he behoved to see," he said, "that his going would only expose the Prince to new dangers, of which he had already too many to contend with." In the course of the conversation he took occasion to tell the Prince, since he had honoured the Macdonalds with his regard, that, although Sir Alexander Macdonald and his followers did not join his standard, they wished him well. "I am sensible enough of all that," was the reply of Charles. Donald also inquired whether the Prince was well provided with money; as in case of need, Lady Margaret Macdonald would supply his wants. But Charles, after expressing his gratitude to Lady Margaret, declined her aid, as he believed that he had sufficient to carry him to the mainland.

This painful and memorable scene came at last to a conclusion. After being repeatedly urged by Donald to depart, Charles bade Mac Kechan farewell. He then turned to Flora Macdonald: "I believe, madam," he said, "that I owe you a crown of borrowed money." She answered, in her literal and simple manner, "It was only half-a-crown." This sum the Prince paid her. He then saluted her, and said: "Notwithstanding all that has happened, I hope, madam, we shall meet in St. James's yet." In this calm, and, apparently laconic manner, he bade Flora adieu. But, though fate did not permit Charles to testify his gratitude at St. James's, he is said never to have mentioned without a deep sense of his obligations the name of his young protectress. In her loyal and simple heart a sense of duty, enthusiastic reverence, and fond regret dwelt, whilst that heart continued to beat; and, through the vicissitudes of her after-life, the service which she had rendered to the Prince recurred like a ray of sunshine upon a destiny almost continually clouded and darkened by calamity.

Flora was left alone at Portree, attended still by Mac Kechan, who afterwards escaped, rejoined the Prince, and went to France with him. Mac Kechan was a man of good education, and was conjectured by Bishop Forbes to have been the author of the "Alexis, or the Young Adventurer," a romance embodying the principal incidents of Charles Edward's life; but of this there is no proof.

Meanwhile the Prince proceeded to the shore. He tied the bottle of whiskey, bought of the landlord, to his belt on one side, and the brandy, the cold hen, and the four shirts on the other. As he went, he saw the landlord of the public-house looking out of a window after him; on which he changed his road. He met young Raasay and his brothers at the appointed place; and it was there agreed, that in a few days Donald Macdonald should follow the Prince to Raasay. At his departure the Prince took out the lump of sugar from his pocket, and said, "Pray give this to _our lady_, for I fear she will get no sugar where she is going." The captain refused however to accept of that which seems to have been considered as a great delicacy. Charles then enjoined Captain Macdonald to secrecy as to his destination. "Tell nobody--no, not _our lady_--where I am going; for it is right that my course should not be known."[298] They then parted; and at daybreak, July the first, 1746, Charles sailed for Raasay. Captain Macdonald then returned to Portree, where he slept a great portion of the next day. Here he was closely questioned by the landlord, who said, that he had a great notion that the gentleman who had supped at his house was the Prince, for he had something noble about him. Probably the imprudent liberality of Charles, and his carelessness about money, may have added to the impression which his lofty air and fascinating manners generally produced. On the fourth of July, Charles, after various adventures in the island of Raasay, escaped to the mountains. This event was announced by a letter sent mysteriously by Murdoch Macleod to Roy Macdonald, and delivered to him in the darkness of night. It had neither address on it, nor place, nor date; but was written by Charles.

"Sir,

"I have parted as I intended. Make my compliments to all to whom I
have given trouble. I am, sir, your humble servant,

"JAMES HERMION."

This letter was burned by Roy Macdonald, though with great reluctance, on the day when he subsequently learned that Flora Macdonald had been made a prisoner.

Flora, after parting from the Prince, went to Armadale to her mother, after a very fatiguing journey across the country. Her emotions on separating from Charles have been expressed in a poem entitled "The Lament of Flora Macdonald," beginning thus:

"Far o'er the hills of the heather so green,
And down by the Corrie that skips in the sea,
The bonny young Flora sat weeping her love--
The dew on her plaid, and the tear in her e'e.
She looked at a boat with the breezes that swung,
And ay as it lessened she sighed and she sung,
'Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again!
Farewell to my hero, the gallant and young!
Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again,'"[299]

During eight or ten days Flora remained in her house at Armadale without imparting to any one, even to her mother, the events of the last week. To make her mother a participator in that affair would indeed have been no act of kindness, at a time when the merest suspicion of being a Jacobite was regarded as a crime.

At the expiration of ten days Flora received a message from a person of her own name, Donald Macdonald of Castletown, in Skye, about four miles from Armadale, to bid her come to his house in order to meet there the commanding officer of an independent company, one Macleod of Taliskar, who had ordered Macdonald to surrender. Flora, a little suspicious of what might happen, thought proper to consult with her friends as to what step she should take. They unanimously agreed that she ought not to go; but "go she would." Then they consulted together what she should say in case of an investigation. But Flora had made up her mind as to the answers she should give. She set out to meet her fate. She probably expected that she should be released after a short examination; for she knew not then through what channel the part which she had taken in the Prince's escape had transpired. The fact was, that the boatmen who had brought her with Charles from Skye had on their return communicated to Captain Fergusson every particular of the Prince's appearance, and had even described the gown which he had worn.

Flora afterwards remembered, that at Mugstat Lady Margaret had warned her that this would be the case, and had pointed out to her the indiscretion of allowing these men to go back to North Uist.

As she went on the road to Castleton, Flora met her father-in-law, Macdonald of Armadale, who was returning home; and shortly afterwards she was apprehended by Captain Macleod of Taliskar, with a party of soldiers, who were going to seek for her at her mother's house. She was not suffered to take leave of her mother, nor of her other friends; but was carried on board the Furnace, a sloop of war, commanded by Captain John Fergusson, and which lay near Raasay. Happily for Flora, General Campbell was on board, and by his orders she was treated with the utmost respect. At her first examination she merely acknowledged, that, on leaving Uist, she had been solicited by "a great lusty woman" to give her a passage, as she was a soldier's wife. Her request, Flora said, was granted; and the woman, upon being landed in Skye, had walked away, and Flora had seen nothing more of the stranger.

But upon finding that she was mildly treated, and on hearing that the boatmen had related every circumstance of her voyage, she confessed the whole truth to General Campbell.

The vessel was bound for Leith. About three weeks after she had been apprehended, as the ship cruized about, it approached the shore of Armadale. Here Flora was permitted to land, in order to bid adieu to her parents. She was sent ashore under a guard of two officers and a party of soldiers, and was forbidden to say anything in Erse, or anything at all except in presence of the officers. Here she stayed two hours, and then returned to the ship. With what emotions she left the island of Skye and found herself carried as a prisoner to Leith, it is not perhaps in these tranquil days easy to conceive.

After her apprehension, her father-in-law, Armadale, to use the phrase of some of the unfortunate Jacobites, "began a-skulking;" a report having gone about that he had given a pass to his daughter, although aware that she was travelling with "the Pretender" disguised in woman's clothes. There was also another source of suspicion against him, which was his having the Prince's pistols in his keeping. These were given him by Macdonald of Milton, the brother of Flora; they had been received either from Charles himself, or from O'Sullivan or O'Neil; but still they furnished a proof of some communication between Charles Edward and Armadale. Another sufferer was Donald Roy Macdonald. Among not the least energetic of those who aided the escape of Charles Edward from the Long Island, was Donald Roy Macdonald. A model of the true Highland gentleman in deportment, handsome in person, his conduct fully bore out his character. To this warm-hearted disinterested young man the Prince quickly attached himself. Crippled as he was, he was obliged also to "go a-skulking." He concealed himself in three different caves, where by turns he made his abode for eight weeks, wrapping himself up in his plaid, and making his bed of the heather; his subsistence he owed to the care of Lady Margaret Macdonald, who brought him food, though at the risk of her own safety. It is consolatory to find heroic friendship, or compassionate interest, enlivening the melancholy annals of civil contentions, of revenge and treachery.

The sufferings of Captain Macdonald during his concealment, although alleviated by Lady Margaret's care, were nevertheless considerable. During the months of July and August, which he passed in the caves, the midges and flies annoyed his frame, sensitive from the still open wound, and drove him for coolness into the recesses of the caverns. It was necessary to be very careful in stepping out, lest the country-people should discover his retreat. Late at night, or very early in the morning, he crept out to supply his bottle with water from some neighbouring _burn_ or rivulet. At last, the act of indemnity set him free. Until the month of November 1746, his wound, exasperated by constant exertion, was very troublesome. His misery was solaced by the care and skill of a friendly surgeon, who sent Donald Roy dressings by a proper hand, even while he remained in the cave, and at last the wound healed. In an account of the Prince's escape, written by Donald at the request of Bishop Forbes, he says, "He (Donald Roy) now walks as cleverly as ever, without any the smallest pain or halt; and made his last journey from Skye to Edinburgh in twelve days on foot, and, as he came along, visited several friends and acquaintances."[300]

One cannot help rejoicing that Lady Margaret Macdonald escaped all inconvenience, except suspicion. The conduct of her husband, Sir Alexander, had been prudent. During the progress of the insurrection he had written to Keppoch, after the retreat from Stirling:--"Seeing I look upon your affairs as in a desperate state, I will not join you: but then, I assure you, I will as little rise against you." Of Sir Alexander's followers, a force amounting to five hundred men, only two had joined the Prince; these were James Macdonald of the isle of Hisker,[301] and Captain Donald Roy Macdonald.[302] The estates of Sir Alexander, therefore, remained uninjured, and his family continued to enjoy them.

The chief sufferers from the visit of Prince Charles to their house were Macdonald of Kingsburgh and his wife.

Upon hearing of the Prince's escape, Captain Fergusson went first to Mugstat; where gaining no intelligence, he proceeded to Kingsburgh. He there examined every person with the utmost exactness, and inquired into every particular of the accommodation afforded to one whom he styled "the Pretender." "Whom you mean by _the Pretender_, I do not pretend to guess!" was the reply of Mrs. Macdonald of Kingsburgh.

Kingsburgh was made prisoner, and was sent to Fort Augustus on parole without any guard, by General Campbell's order. But the clemency shown by Campbell ceased when Kingsburgh reached Fort Augustus. He was thrown into a dungeon, was plundered of everything, and loaded with irons. Sir Everard Faulkner, who was employed to examine him, reminded him how fine an opportunity he had lost of "making himself and his family for ever." "Had I gold and silver piled heap upon heap to the bulk of yon huge mountain," was the noble reply, "that mass could not afford me half the satisfaction I find in my own breast from doing what I have done!" Whilst he was confined at Fort Augustus, an officer of distinction came to him, and asked him if he should know the Prince's head if he saw it. "I should know the head very well if it were on the shoulders," was the answer. "But if it were not on the shoulders?" said the officer. "In that case I will not pretend to know anything about it," returned Kingsburgh. His discrimination was not put to the test.

Kingsburgh was removed to Edinburgh castle under a strong guard of Kingston's Light-horse. He was at first put into a room with several other gentlemen, but was afterwards removed into solitary confinement, and not allowed to speak to any one, except to the officer on guard, and the keeper, who acted as his servant. In this place he remained for a year, when by the act of grace he was set at liberty on the fourth of July 1747; "having thus," as an author has observed, "got a whole year's safe lodging for affording that of one night!"[303]

Before her farewell to her friends in Armadale, Flora Macdonald had exchanged the vessel which Captain Fergusson commanded, for one commanded by Commodore Smith, a gentleman capable of estimating her character. At Armadale, she procured a change of clothes, and took as her personal attendant an honest girl, named Kate Macdonald, who could speak nothing but Gaelic. This girl offered herself as a servant, finding that Flora could get no one else to attend her in her calamity.