Chapter LIII: Attacked by the Duke of Athole

Rob having retired further north-west, was living in comparative peace and ease at Balquhidder, though ever armed, watchful, and on the alert; but now his old and wanton enemy, the Duke of Athole--an enemy despite the cavalier sentiments of Tullibardine and his other sons, and the sympathies of the gentle Duchess Katherine--during the middle of 1724, made no less than _three_ vigorous attempts to capture him, for he was still outlawed, and the warrants for his apprehension were yet in full force against him, with ample rewards for those who could achieve this hitherto perilous and difficult task. Of Athole's final attempts we shall briefly relate the success.

In retaliation for the trick so basely played him at the castle of Blair, Rob had certainly more than once ravaged the estates of the Duke of Athole, carried off the cattle, and put to the sword several Drummonds who resisted.

Though he had drawn these reprisals on himself, Athole could as little forgive such proceedings as his Grace of Montrose; and on his return from a visit to London he secretly despatched a party of Lord Polworth's Light Horse up the glens to Balquhidder, at a time when most of the MacGregors were absent at fairs, or on the mountains herding cattle.

MacLaren of Invernentie is said to have given them exact information of Rob's movements, for they came upon him most unexpectedly, during a fine summer evening when he was superintending a few of his people, who were cutting turf with the _ceaba_, a long, narrow spade of peculiar form, used by the Highlanders and Irish. Suddenly there was a cry of--

"The Redcoats! the Redcoats!" and the women threw down their keallochs, or creels, as a party of troopers, on light active horses, dashed round the shoulder of a rocky ridge, and came pellmell among them, with swords flashing in the sunshine.

Rob had only three men with him, and save their dirks, each was armed only with a turf-spade. While he swung one of these implements aloft, to use it like a poleaxe, resolved on making a desperate defence, its shaft was shattered in his hand, as a trooper adroitly broke it by a pistol-shot, and then spurred his horse right over him.

Rob lost his dirk, but plunged his skene-dhu deep into the bowels of the animal, which reared wildly and threw his rider head downward into the soft bog, where his spurred jack-boots stood upper-most in the air.

Beaten down again under a shower of sword-blades and clubbed carbines, MacGregor was made prisoner. He was then mounted on a horse and carried off, amid the yells, screams, and lamentations of the women. He was threatened with instant death if he attempted to resist or escape; and, fortunately, on this occasion, they were without a rope to bind him; but the officer in command, an Irish captain, held a cocked pistol in his right hand, and rode by the side of the prisoner.

"Remember," said he, "that your _head_ may be more easily carried than your body, if you prove troublesome. Forward--away for Stirling--away at full speed!" were the orders; and the Light Horse disappeared with MacGregor, while the turf-cutters flew to arms and to muster others for rescue and revenge.

This, however, was unnecessary; for, when passing through a glen or ravine which lies between the church of Balquhidder and Glendochart, at a place where, on the side of the former, the ground is steep and rugged, but on the latter has a long and gradual slope towards the Dochart, Rob suddenly wrenched away the Irishman's pistol, which exploded in the air, and slipping over his horse's crupper, sprang up the rocks, where not a single trooper could follow him.

Enraged by the sudden escape of his prisoner, the officer spurred his horse till the steel rowels tore the flesh; it bounded madly upward against the rocks, and fell back upon its haunches, half-stunning its rider; and to this day the place bears the name of _Shiam an Erinich_, or the "Irishman's Leap."

A few days after this, Rob escaped again by mere coolness and presence of mind, when in Glenalmond he encountered the same party of Polworth's Light Horse, who instantly knew and greeted him with a shout; while some drew their swords, others loaded their carbines, and all spurred their horses on. Rob was quite alone; he had been separated from his eldest son and followers, with twenty of whom he had been purchasing cattle at a neighbouring fair.

No succour was near. The place of this _rencontre_ is a savage and solitary pass, overlooked by hills about fourteen hundred feet in height, the steep sides being pressed so close together as barely to leave space at the bottom for a narrow path and the brawling river's bed. On their sides some meagre shrubs sprout from the fissured rocks, beneath the shadow of which the Almond looks sombre, dark, and inky, save when churned into brown foam, as it thunders over a linn, or chafes on the obstructing boulders.

At the upper end of this lonely pass stands a grey and time-worn block of stone, eight feet in height, which marks the grave of the Scottish Homer--Ossian, the son of Fingal.

In the wildest and narrowest path of this mountain gorge, Rob suddenly found himself confronted, about nightfall, by the same Irish captain and his party of horse. In an angle of the narrow way, where an overhanging rock protected him on one side and the deep river's bed on the other, he stood facing them, sword in hand, and covered by his round shield; thus the troopers could see nothing beyond him.

As only one at a time could attack him, the leading trooper was somewhat impressed by the resolute expression of his well-bearded face, his stature, and firm posture of defence.

"I know whom you seek," said he, sternly; "but I swear that if you do not instantly depart, not one of you shall return alive! In less than half an hour my men will have possession of the bridge of Buchanty, and your retreat will be cut off."

On hearing this, the soldiers began to rein back their horses.

"Retire in time," resumed MacGregor, "and tell him who sent you that, if any more of his pigmy race come hither, by the bones of our dead, I will hang them up to feed the eagles!"

He then placed his horn to his mouth and blew a loud and ringing blast, to which hill and river echoed.

On this, believing that the whole clan were concealed among the rocks, from, whence a fire would be opened upon them, the troopers seized by a panic, wheeled round their horses and retired at full gallop, while Rob ascended the cliffs, and leisurely pursued his way in another direction.

The government, in despair perhaps, were now ceasing to molest Rob Roy, and the last time troops were sent against him was the sudden despatch of a strong force of infantry from the castle of Stirling, under Colonel Grahame.

This party were seen on their march to Callendar by some MacGregors, who were driving a herd of cattle along the banks of the Forth, so Rob was immediately apprised of the unwelcome visitors. In an hour, the whole fighting men of the braes of Balquhidder were in arms, and had scouts posted at every pass and avenue; but as Rob had no wish to subject his people to severity on his own account--for it was _he_ alone whom Grahame had orders to capture--he retired further off into the mountains, a precaution he would not have adopted in his younger and more fiery years.

The soldiers met with every opposition, and frequently with bloody resistance from the MacGregors; and they had a four days' fruitless search, toiling, with knapsacks and accoutrements, cocked hats, pipe-clayed breeches, and long gaiters, up steep mountains, down ravines, where they floundered, and sunk knee-deep among wet heather, fern, and rushes; stumbling over precipices, and always misled by the guides, who took the bribes of the officers, and then vanished into the mist or a thicket, leaving them to shift for themselves, till the evening of the fourth day found Colonel Grahame and his detachment, starving, weary, and worn, occupying a deserted house on the verge of the Lowlands, near the hills of Buchanan.

The rain was falling in torrents, and no sentinels were posted without; so there Rob came upon them in the night, and, by throwing in combustibles, set the house on fire about their ears.

This immediately dislodged the enemy. As they rushed forth in disorder and dismay, many were severely injured by bruises and by the explosion of the ammunition in their pouches. Many lost their weapons, and "one man was killed by the accidental discharge of a musket. The military, thus thrown into confusion, broken down by fatigue, and almost famished by want of provisions, withdrew from the country of the MacGregors, happy that they had escaped so well."

This was--as we have stated--the _last_ encounter of Rob Roy with the forces of the government.