Chapter XIX: Aberuchail

Prior to the great Rising of the Clans in 1715, Rob Roy was engaged as usual in several small skirmishes and frays, in which his skill and strategy as a leader were prominent; and he gained yet more the reputation of being the protector of the poor against the rich, and of the defenceless against those who would oppress them.

In spite of the Duke of Montrose, he had re-established himself again at Craigrostan, from whence he never went abroad attended by less than twenty or thirty well-armed men, including his henchman and Greumoch.

These were his _Leine Chrios_, or body-guard.

Some of the Grahames of Montrose, and others who were obnoxious to himself or to the cause of the exiled king, he confined occasionally in a place which is still named Rob Roy's prison.

This is a mural rock, the eyry of the osprey or water-eagle, which rises to the height of thirty feet on the north-eastern shore of Loch Lomond, about four miles from Kowardennan.

Slung by ropes, he occasionally lowered them from the summit, and after permitting them to swing in mid-air for a time, would give them a severe ducking in the loch below and compel them to shout--

"God save King James VIII."

They were then permitted to depart amid the laughter of his followers; and it must be borne in mind that this was very gentle treatment when compared with that to which the MacGregors were subjected when captured by the same people.

As the old Highland proprietors or heads of septs held their lands in virtue of an occupancy coeval with the first settlement of the tribes in Scotland, and consequently disdained to hold possession by virtue of a skeepskin rather than by their sword-blades, in later years, a system of suppressing the smaller lairds by force of arms had long been pursued with success by the house of Argyle in the west.

A powerful landowner of that name, who had recently been created a baronet, seized at the point of the sword a small estate in Glendochart, and expelled the proprietor with all his family and kindred.

MacGregor, who could not permit an act of such injustice to pass unpunished, sent Greumoch with forty men to the Braes of Glenorchy, with orders to "bring this oppressor of the poor a prisoner before him."

It was in the sweet season of spring, when the lapwing came to the bowers of silver birch and the green plover winged its way over the purple heather, when the MacGregors departed on this expedition; and being aware of the place and time when their prey would probably pass, they concealed themselves among the bleak granite rocks of Ben Cruachin, a vast mountain, the red furrowed sides of which--furrowed by a thousand water-courses--rise above Loch Awe, and terminate in a sharp cone.

Here stood the wall of a ruined chapel, founded of old by a MacGregor chief, and through it a well, deemed holy, flowed into a stone basin, under an old yew-tree. To the stem was chained an iron ladle, by which the thirsty pilgrim or wayfarer might drink, and at the bottom of the basin lay little copper Scottish coins which had been dropped therein as offerings, while knots of ribbons, rags, and trifles decorated the boughs of the aged yew.

"A place of good omen!" said Greumoch, looking around him; "for here it was that Clan Alpine won the lands of Glenorchy, when there were no paper courts in Dunedin, or redcoats in Dumbarton."

It chanced that on a day in summer, King David I., of Scotland, was hunting with Malcolm MacGregor, the eighth chief of Clan Alpine, on the side of Cruachin, when a wild boar, of marvellous strength, size, and ferocity, appeared in a rugged defile. It at once assailed the monarch, whose hunting-spear broke and left him at its mercy; but instead of rushing forward, the boar retired to whet its tusks against the rocks, so Malcolm craved the king's permission to attack it.

"E'en do," said the king; "but spaire nocht!"

"_Eadhon dean agus na caomhain!_" shouted MacGregor, translating the king's lowland Scottish into Gaelic, as he tore up a young tree by the roots, and kept the boar at bay until he could close with it and bury his long dagger in its throat. At the third stab he slew it.

To reward his courage, David granted him the lands of Glenorchy, and, in remembrance of the day, added to his arms _argent_, an oak-tree uprooted _vert_, across a claymore _azure_, which every MacGregor may bear to this day.

But now the Campbells were lords of Glenorchy, and just as Greumoch had ended this legend of the clan, which no doubt all his hearers knew before, the great personage they were in search of rode into the defile, when he was surrounded, and his retainers were scattered in a moment.

On finding himself a prisoner, and knowing well to whom, the baronet proposed a ransom; but bribes were offered and threats uttered in vain to Greumoch, who ordered the prisoner to be tied up in a long plaid, which was slung over the shoulders of Alaster Roy and another tall gilly; and thus by turns, with two bearers at a time, he was conveyed for about fourteen miles to a place called Tyndrum, where he was brought before Rob Roy.

This village is at the head of Strathfillan in Breadalbane, on the western military road.

Rob upbraided the prisoner with his cruelty and oppression, and threatened to toss him over the rock into Loch Lomond, with a stone in his plaid, if he did not restore the lands in Glendochart to their original owner.

Paper was produced, a document was drawn up and signed, by the tenor of which he and his heirs renounced them formally and for ever.

He now hoped to be allowed to depart; but there arose a cry of,--

"To the well! to the well! give him a dip in the Holy Pool of St. Fillan!"

It was Paul Crubach who spoke.

"Be it so," said Rob; "if the water has not lost its virtue, a dip therein may improve the Campbell's spirit of honour, and prevent him from robbing the poor again."

In spite of his earnest entreaties, the MacGregors bore their prisoner, who feared they were about to drown him, to the well of St. Fillan. The whole population of the village followed, and lame Paul hobbled in front, chuckling and laughing, while his eyes flashed with insane delight, his long grizzled hair streaming in elf-locks on the wind, as with one hand he brandished his wooden cross, and with the other tolled vehemently the ancient bell of St. Fillan, which in those days always stood upon a gravestone in the churchyard.

After permitting his men to duck the prisoner soundly, Rob procured a horse, and sent him homeward with a safe escort under his son Coll; but though these indignities were too great to be forgotten, in followers Rob was too strong now to be captured, even by the Campbells of Argyle.

For the forthcoming revolt money was requisite, and Campbell of Aberuchail, taking advantage of Rob Roy's outlawry, had long withheld his tribute of black-mail, so, before returning to Craigrostan, our hero resolved on levying it, and marching from Tyndrum at the head of his followers, appeared before the mansion of Aberuchail, the proprietors of which had been baronets since 1627.

Having heard that the MacGregors had been seen in motion in the neighbourhood, all the cattle had been hastily collected in a dense herd within the outer walls of Aberuchail tower, around which there grew a fine wood of oak-trees that for ages had cast their shadows on the Ruchail, which means the _red-stream_.

A strong gate, loopholed for musketry, and surmounted by a coat of arms with the motto, _Victoriam coronat Christus_, was closed and secured as the MacGregors approached, and all was still within, save the lowing and bellowing of the cattle, so closely penned within the barbican.

Rob Roy thundered with his sword-hilt on the outer gate, in which an eyelet-hole was opened, and thereat the porter's face appeared, with an expression of anxiety and alarm, which was no way lessened when he found himself front to front with the keen eyes, the ruddy beard, and sunburned visage of the Red MacGregor, whom he knew instinctively.

"Is the laird at home?" asked the resolute visitor.

"Yes," stammered the gate-ward.

"Why does he not come in person when he knows who are here?" was the haughty query.

"He is at dinner."

"What! Is this Highland manners, to close your gates at meal-time, when other men open theirs wide, that all men may enter? Is this the way your master rewards those who protect him from thieving MacNabs and broken men of the Lennox?"

"Sir James Livingstone, Sir Humphrey of Luss, and several gentlemen are at dinner with him, and I dare not disturb them," urged the porter, whose orders were to keep out Rob at all hazards.

"Gentlemen!" repeated Rob. "Whigs, probably, plotting treason against King James. Tell your master that the Red MacGregor of Inversnaid is here, without, where it is not his wont to be kept, awaiting his arrears of black-mail, and that he shall see him, even if the King of Scotland and the Hanoverian Elector, too, were at table with him!"

After a time, the gate-ward returned, trembling, to say that "his master knew no such persons as either the King, the Elector, or the Laird of Inversnaid."

"By the grave of Cior Mhor, Aberuchail shall repent of this false whiggery!" exclaimed Rob, as he took a horn from his belt, and blew a blast so loud and shrill that the whole house and the woods around it rang with echoes.

Then anew the cattle bellowed, and the porter shut the eyelet-hole and fled, lest he might be pistolled.

Four pipers now struck up the "Battle of Glenfruin;" the MacGregors uttered a shout, and assailing the gate soon forced it; for the _clach neart_--the putting-stone of strength--which lay beside it, was dashed like a cannon-ball upon its planks by the most powerful of the band, till the barrier crumbled to pieces before them; after which they proceeded with drawn swords to goad and drive off the cattle.

On this, the baronet of Aberuchail came hastily to the door of the tower, and taking Rob Roy by the hand, made many apologies for what he alleged to be the stupidity of the porter, and led his unwelcome visitor into the house, where, however, neither Livingstone nor Luss appeared.

Then he handed him the "black-mail," for which MacGregor gave his receipt; they drank a bottle of claret together, and separated, to all appearance, good friends. The cattle were all left in the parks, and the MacGregors marched back to Craigrostan.

But does it not seem strange that when Pope was writing at Twickenham, when Addison and Steele were contributing to the _Spectator_, and when Betterton was acting at Old Drury Lane, this wild work was being done among the Highland hills?