Chapter XXXVII: A.d. 1746 (2)

Donald Roy Macdonald had left the inn shortly after Miss Macdonald’s arrival, for the purpose of meeting Charles; but, after remaining out about twenty minutes without seeing him, he returned to the house, afraid lest the rain, which fell in torrents, might fester a wound in his foot which he had received at the battle of Culloden, and which was still open. He had scarcely entered the inn, when Macnab, the landlord, informed him that a boy wanted to see him. The boy, whose name was Macqueen, having informed Donald Roy that a gentleman who was waiting a little above the house wished to speak with him, he went out and met the prince, who caught him in his arms. Donald then conducted him into the inn. Charles was wet to the skin, and the water poured down from his clothes. The first thing he asked for was a dram, on taking which he proceeded to shift himself. He put on a dry shirt; but before he had replaced the other habiliments which he had thrown off, a supply of roasted fish, bread, cheese, and butter was brought into the room, which the prince attacked with such avidity that Donald Roy could not help smiling; and being observed by the prince, he remarked that he believed the prince was following the English fashion. “What fashion do you mean?” said the prince. “Why,” replied Donald Roy, “they say the English, when they are to eat heartily, throw off their clothes.” The prince smiling, said, “They are in the right, lest anything should incommode their hands when they are at work.” Asking for some drink, Charles was told that there were no liquids of any sort in the house but whisky and water, not even milk, of which he had desired a little. The only substitute in the room for a tumbler or jug was a dirty-looking bucket, which the landlord used for throwing the water out of his boat, and the mouth of which was broken and rough from the frequent use to which it had been thus applied. Donald Roy, who had previously quaffed out of the bucket, handed it to Charles, who took it out of his hand, and after looking at it, stared Donald in the face. As the landlord was in the room, Donald was afraid that, from the shyness of Charles to drink out of a dish to which no objection perhaps had ever before been stated, he might think he had a visitor of distinction in his house, and he therefore went up to Charles, and in a gentle whisper desired him to drink out of the obnoxious vessel without ceremony. Charles taking the hint, put the pail to his head, and took a hearty draught of water.[1258]

Malcolm Macleod, on being informed of the prince’s arrival at the inn, had returned to the boat, and with his cousins waited anxiously for the prince. On the landlord of the inn leaving the room, Donald Roy, who had grown impatient to get away, urged the prince to depart; but Charles showed no inclination to leave the inn, and even proposed to remain there all night, as the rain was still heavy. Donald told him that as the house he was in was frequented by all kinds of people, he would incur danger by remaining; for the very appearance of a stranger would excite speculation among the country people, who were always desirous to know who the persons were that came among them. Charles assented to the correctness of Donald’s observations, but called for some tobacco that he might smoke a pipe before his departure. There being no tobacco in the house but roll or pigtail, Charles said it would answer very well; and the landlord, at the request of Donald Roy, brought in a quarter of a pound in the scales in which it had been weighed. The price was fourpence halfpenny, and Charles gave the landlord a sixpence. Donald Roy desired him to bring in the difference. The prince smiled, and on the change being brought he refused to receive it. Donald, however, insisted that he should take the three halfpence, because he considered that in his present situation he might find “bawbees” very useful.[1259]

When about to leave the inn, Charles solicited Donald Roy to accompany him to Raasay, observing that he had always found himself safe in the hands of the Macdonalds, and that as long as he had a Macdonald with him he would still think himself safe. This faithful attendant, whilst he stated his inclination to serve the prince in his distress, represented to him the impossibility of following him from place to place, in consequence of the wound in his left foot, which rendered him incapable of enduring fatigue; and that as he would be obliged from his lameness to travel occasionally on horseback, his presence would only endanger the safety of the prince. He agreed, however, to meet Charles in Raasay in a few days, and stated that, in the mean time, he would remain in Skye, and collect for the future guidance of the prince such information as he could, in relation to the movements and plans of his pursuers.

Before leaving Portree Charles had a most painful task to perform, that of parting with the amiable and high-minded young woman, who, during three eventful days, had with generous sympathy, and at the imminent hazard of her own life, watched over him with the tenderest solicitude and affection, and rescued him from the many perils with which he had been environed. He repaid Miss Flora a small sum of money he had borrowed from her, and, presenting her with his own portrait in miniature, saluted her. He then returned her his sincere thanks for the great assistance she had afforded him, and taking leave, expressed a hope that, notwithstanding the present unfavourable aspect of his affairs, he should yet meet her in St. James’s. He also took farewell of Neil Mac Eachan, who certainly at that time had no expectation that he was to be one of those who were afterwards to accompany the prince to France.

Charles had brought along with him from Kingsburgh, four shirts, a cold fowl, some sugar, and a bottle of brandy. To this small stock he added at Portree a bottle of usquebaugh. He tied this bottle to his belt at one side, and at the other the bottle of brandy, and the shirts and cold fowl which were put up in a handkerchief. Thus provided, Charles left the inn, accompanied by Donald Roy, on the morning of the 1st of July, while it was yet dark. The landlord, surprised perhaps at the early departure of his guests, cast a look after them as they went out at the door, which being observed by Charles’s conductor, he led the prince off in a direction opposite to that they had to go, till out of view of the landlord, and then making a circle they went down towards the shore, and in their way met Malcolm Macleod, who conducted the prince to the boat. He then took leave of Donald Roy, whom he enjoined not to mention the place of his destination to any person, not even to his fair protectress. Donald returned to the inn, and was immediately accosted by his host, who expressed a strong desire to know the name of the gentleman who had left his house. Donald told him, with apparent unconcern, that the stranger who had gone away was Sir John Macdonald, an Irish gentleman, and a brother rebel, who, having got free of his enemies, had been skulking among his friends, the Macdonalds of Skye; and that, tired of remaining in one place, and afraid of being discovered in the island, he had set out for the mainland to seek an asylum among the other Macdonalds. The landlord, whom he enjoined to secrecy, apparently satisfied with this explanation, said that he was strongly impressed with an idea that the gentleman was the prince in disguise, as he observed something about him that looked very noble.[1260]

Portree, a small bay opposite the island of Raasay, from which Charles was about to depart, had derived its name, which signifies the King’s Port, from the circumstance of King James the Fifth having landed there during his excursion amongst the western islands. Charles left this creek after midnight, under the protection of the enthusiastic young laird of Raasay, to whom Malcolm Macleod introduced him when he entered the boat. As the two boatmen had served in the prince’s army, the whole party, with the exception of young Raasay himself, were under the ban of the government, and the young laird, whose only motive in not joining the insurrection was probably a desire to save the estate, now fearlessly put his life and fortune in jeopardy, when the risk was even greater.

Charles slept a little upon the passage, and reached Raasay about day-break, a few hours after his departure from Portree. The party landed at a place called Glam, about the distance of ten miles from that haven. Charles, Malcolm, and Murdoch Macleod took up their abode in a wretched hut which some shepherds had lately erected. They had no bedding of any sort, and were obliged to repose upon some heath. On entering the hut they kindled a fire and partook of some provisions. On this, as on other occasions, Charles, to please the Highlanders, never tasted wheat-bread or brandy while oat-bread and whisky lasted, for, he observed, that these last were his “own country bread and drink.” Young Raasay had nothing to dread from his own people; and, lest the military might revisit the island, he placed the two boatmen upon different eminences to watch their approach. He visited Charles and his friends occasionally, and always carried provisions along with him. Though comparatively secure, Charles was very uneasy in his new retreat; and frequent starts and exclamations in his slumbers indicated the agitated workings of his mind. Malcolm Macleod often overheard him in his sleep muttering imperfect sentences, in Italian, French, and English. One of his expressions in English was, “O God! poor Scotland!”[1261]

During Charles’s stay in Raasay, no person visited the island, but he and his friends were kept in a state of uneasiness by a person who prowled about without any apparent business, and who had come into the island to sell a roll of tobacco. He had arrived about twelve or fourteen days before Charles. Having disposed of his merchandise very speedily, it was expected that he would have departed, but continuing to stroll up and down the island in an idle way, he was suspected to be a spy. Malcolm Macleod happening to see him approaching the hut one day, a council of war was held by Charles and his friends. The three Macleods were for putting the poor tobacco vender to death, and Malcolm Macleod offered to go out immediately and shoot him through the head; but Charles indignantly reprobated the inhuman proposal. “God forbid (said he) that we should take away a man’s life who may be innocent, while we can preserve our own.” John Mackenzie, who sat as sentinel at the door, overhearing the debate, said to himself in Gaelic, “Well, well: he must be shot: you are the king, but we are the parliament, and will do what we choose.” Observing his friends smile, Charles asked what John had said; and being told the man’s observation in English, the prince observed that he was a clever fellow; and, notwithstanding his perilous situation, laughed loud and heartily.[1262] Notwithstanding Charles’s remonstrances, the stranger would have been despatched had he entered the hut, but luckily he walked past without looking into it. It was afterwards ascertained that the stranger himself was a fugitive from the Highland army.[1263] While Charles resided in this hut, he and his companions indulged in a great deal of conversation. Alluding to passing events and his present situation, the prince observed that his life was to be sure a very hard one; but that he would rather live in the way he then did for ten years, than fall into the hands of his enemies, not because he believed they would dare to take away his life publicly, but because he dreaded being poisoned or assassinated. He was very particular in his inquiries at Dr. Macleod about the wound he had received at Culloden, from a ball which entered at one shoulder and went across to the other. He threw out some reflections upon the conduct of some of his officers at Culloden, but confessed that perhaps it was rash in him to do so. Talking of the different Highland corps, the Macleods asked Charles which, in his opinion, were the best soldiers; but he evaded a direct answer, said he did not like comparisons among such corps; and that they were all best.[1264]

Charles resided two days in Raasay, when becoming uneasy, and thinking the island too narrow and confined for the purpose of concealment, he resolved to depart. Understanding that he expected a French ship at Lochbroom, Malcolm Macleod offered to carry him thither, but Charles declined the proposal on account of the danger of the voyage in a small boat. He expressed a wish to go to Trotternish in Skye, but his friends attempted to dissuade him, as they considered him safer in Raasay. Persisting however in going, the whole party, including the two boatmen, left Raasay on the evening of the 2d of July, in the same boat which they had used to carry them into the island. After they had gone a little off the shore the wind began to blow hard, and soon increased to a gale. The sea became so very rough, that the waves broke over the boat and almost filled it with water. All on board begged the prince to return, but he declined, observing, that as Providence had carried him through so many dangers, he did not doubt of the same care now as before. About eleven o’clock at night they landed at a place in Skye, called Nicolson’s rock, near Scorobreck in Trotternish, after a very boisterous voyage of about fifteen miles. There was a large surf on the shore, and there being no convenient landing place, they had to jump out among the water. Charles was the third man who leapt into the sea. Standing in the surf, the whole party, including Charles, laid hold of the boat and drew it up on dry ground.

On this desolate coast, the royal wanderer could find no other resting-place than a cow-house, belonging to Mr. Nicolson of Scorobreck, about two miles from that gentleman’s seat. The party entered this wretched hovel and took a little refreshment of oat cakes, which had mouldered down into very small crumbs, and some cheese. Charles being wet to the skin, Malcolm Macleod advised him to put on a dry shirt. This he declined, and continued to sit in his wet clothes. Overcome with fatigue he fell asleep; but he enjoyed little sound repose. He would frequently start in his sleep, look briskly up, and stare boldly around him, as if about to fight the persons around him. “Oh poor England! poor England!” were the exclamations he would sometimes utter, with a deep sigh, during these disturbed moments.

In all his wanderings it was the constant practice of Charles to conceal his future movements from every person with whose services he was about to dispense, so as to prevent any clue to his discovery. Wishing to get quit of young Raasay and his brother, he despatched the former to look out for Donald Roy, and he desired the latter to go to a place called Cammistinawag, where he would meet him. Murdoch Macleod and the two boatmen then took leave. At parting he presented Murdoch with a case, containing a silver spoon, knife, and fork, which he requested him to keep till they met.

The prince and Malcolm Macleod remained in the hut till seven o’clock in the morning, when Charles, taking the little baggage in his hand, walked out, and desired Malcolm to follow him. Macleod took the bundle out of Charles’s hand, and followed him in silence till out of sight of the cow-house, when Charles taking a direction Malcolm did not like, this faithful adherent went up to him and asked him where he was going, as he was afraid that he might fall into the hands of one of the numerous military parties, who were dispersed over the island. “Why, Macleod, (replied Charles,) I now throw myself entirely into your hands, and leave you to do with me what you please; only I want to go to Strath, Mackinnon’s country. I hope you will accompany me, if you think you can lead me safe enough into Strath.” Malcolm declared that he would go with his royal highness wherever he pleased, and offered to bring him safe into that part of Skye which belonged to the chief of Mackinnon, provided he would consent to go by sea; but Macleod objected to a journey over land which he considered would be attended with dangers from the soldiers. Charles, however, insisted on going by land, and observed that they could now do nothing without danger. The better to prevent a discovery, Charles proposed that he should act the part of Macleod’s servant, and that he should assume the name of Lewis Caw, there being at the time a young surgeon of that name, who had been in the prince’s service, skulking in Skye, where he had some relations. Observing that his scarlet tartan waistcoat with gold twist buttons, was finer than that worn by Macleod, which was of plain ordinary tartan, Charles exchanged it for Macleod’s. Then taking the bag which contained his linen out of Malcolm’s hands, Charles threw it over his shoulder, and set out on his perilous journey, preceded by the faithful Malcolm, who, to complete the deception, had proposed that Charles should keep up his new character of a gilly, or footman, by walking in the rear.

Strath, the country of the Mackinnons, was at a considerable distance, and the route to it which these two travellers took lay through one of the wildest and most mountainous districts of the island. Though a good pedestrian, Malcolm could scarcely keep his distance ahead of Charles, whose locomotive powers were surprising, there being few persons who could match him at walking. Alluding to his celerity of foot, he told Malcolm that provided he got out of musket-shot, he had no dread of a pursuit by English soldiers, but he had not the same confidence if chased by a party of Highland militia. He asked Malcolm what they would do in the event of meeting any person among the mountains, who might attempt to kill or take them. “That depends upon their numbers,” replied Malcolm; “if there should be no more than four of them, I’ll engage to manage two.” “And I,” rejoined Charles, “will engage to manage the other two.” Malcolm, in his turn, asked Charles what they should do if attacked by a party of English soldiers, “Fight, to be sure,” was the reply.

As Malcolm expected that they would fall in with some of the country people before they came to the end of their journey, by whom, from his being well known in the island, he might be recognised, he desired Charles not to evince any anxiety when he (Malcolm) should speak to them, but remove to a short distance and sit down till the conversation ended. They met a few of these people from time to time, on which occasion Charles not only observed the injunction of Malcolm, but superadded the customary menial duty, of touching his bonnet when addressed by his supposed master. With the exception of a bottle of brandy, the two travellers appear to have had no other sustenance during their long and fatiguing journey. When reduced to a single glass, Charles urged Malcolm to take it, lest he should faint with the excessive fatigue. Malcolm refused, and insisted that the prince himself should drink it, but Charles resolutely refused, and compelled Malcolm to drain the bottle. Malcolm then hid the bottle in a thick bush of heath, where he found it about three years thereafter. Honest Macleod long preserved it “as a curious piece,” which he expected would one day make a figure in Westminster.[1265]

When opportunity offered, the prince and Malcolm relieved the tediousness of the journey, by conversing on a variety of topics. The conversation happening to turn upon Lord George Murray, Charles observed that his lordship, whether from ignorance or with a view to betray him, he would not say, misconducted himself in not obeying orders, and that in particular, for two or three days before the battle of Culloden, Lord George scarcely did anything he desired him to do. When Malcolm told him of the many atrocities committed after that battle, he appeared amazed, and said, “Surely that man who calls himself the duke, and pretends to be so great a general, cannot be guilty of such cruelties. I cannot believe it.” Talking of the fatigues he was obliged to undergo, the prince said, “Do you not think, Macleod, that God Almighty has made this person of mine for doing some good yet? When I was in Italy, and dining at the king’s (his father’s) table, very often the sweat would have been coming through my coat with the heat of the climate, and now that I am in a cold country, where the climate is more trying, and exposed to different kinds of fatigues, I really find I agree equally with both. I have had (pointing to his kilt) this philibeg on now for some days, and I find I do as well with it as any of the best breeches I ever put on. I hope in God, Macleod, to walk the streets of London with it yet.”[1266] A man holding such sentiments as these was not likely to be easily discouraged.

When approaching Mackinnon’s bounds, Malcolm stated to the prince his apprehensions, that, disguised as he was, he was afraid he would still be recognised by some of Mackinnon’s people, who had been out in his service. He, therefore, suggested that Charles should disguise himself still further. The prince then proposed to blacken his face with powder; but Macleod objected to this plan, which, he said, would tend rather to discover than to conceal him. “Then,” observed Charles, “I must be put into the greatest dishabille possible;” and pulling off his wig, and putting it into his pocket, took out a dirty white napkin, which Malcolm, at his desire, tied about his head close to his eyebrows. He then put off his bonnet, tore the ruffles from his shirt, and took the buckles out of his shoes, and made Macleod fasten them with strings. Charles now asked his friend if he thought he would still be recognised, and on Malcolm answering that he thought he would, Charles said, “I have so odd a face, that no man that ever saw me once but would know me again.” In Malcolm’s opinion, Charles, though almost a Proteus, could never disguise his majestic mien and carriage; and he declared that there was not a person who knew what the air of a noble or great man was, that would not, upon seeing the prince, however disguised he might be, at once perceive something about him that was not ordinary,--something of the stately and grand.[1267]

They had not gone far after this conversation, when Malcolm Macleod’s opinion was verified, for no sooner had the travellers entered Strath, than Charles was recognised by two men of Mackinnon’s clan, who had been out in the insurrection. They stared at the prince for a little, and on discovering him, lifted up their hands and wept bitterly. Malcolm begged that they would compose themselves, lest by showing so much concern they might discover the prince. After cautioning them not to mention the meeting to any one, he swore them to secrecy upon his naked dirk, and then dismissed them. They kept their word.

Being within two miles of the laird of Mackinnon’s house, Malcolm asked him if he wished to see the old chief; “No,” said Charles, “by no means. I know Mackinnon to be as good and as honest a man as any in the world; but he is not fit for my purpose at present. You must conduct me to some other house, but let it be a gentleman’s house.” They then proceeded, at Malcolm’s suggestion, to a place called Ellagol, or rather Ellighiul, near Kilvory or Kilmaree, where they arrived in the morning after a journey of twenty-four Highland miles, being upwards of thirty English miles. At Ellagol there lived one John Mackinnon, who had served as captain under the laird of Mackinnon, and had married a sister of Malcolm. Being desirous to ascertain the state of matters in the neighbourhood before conducting Charles into the house of his brother-in-law, Malcolm left the prince at a little distance from the house, and went forward to make the necessary inquiries. He found that Mackinnon was from home; and on informing his sister that he had come to stay a short time at Ellagol, if he could do so with safety, she assured him that he would be perfectly safe, as there were no military people about the place, and that he was very welcome. Malcolm then told her that he had nobody along with him but one Lewis Caw, son of Mr. Caw, a surgeon in Crieff, whom, being a fugitive like himself, he had engaged as his servant, but that he had fallen sick. Mrs. Mackinnon felt interested in the stranger, and requested her brother to bring him in.

Charles accordingly entered with the baggage on his back, and, taking off his bonnet, made a low bow, and sat down at a distance from Malcolm. Mrs. Mackinnon looked at the prince, and instantly her sympathy was excited. “Poor man!” she exclaimed, “I pity him. At the same time, my heart warms to a man of his appearance.” Malcolm having told his sister that he was almost famishing with hunger, she set before him a plentiful Highland breakfast. Charles still sitting at a respectful distance, Malcolm invited him, as there were no strangers in the house, to draw near and share with him, there being abundance for both. Charles appeared very backward to obey the summons to eat, and said that though in an humble station, he knew better how to conduct himself than by sitting at the same table with his master; but Malcolm pretended to insist upon compliance, Charles rose from his seat, made a profound bow, and advancing towards the table, sat down, and attacked the viands without farther ceremony.

In the course of their journey, Charles and his companion had fallen into a bog during the night, and as their feet and legs were still dirty, Malcolm desired the servant-maid in Gaelic, as she could not speak English, to bring some water into the room, and as he was much fatigued, to wash them. Whilst in the act of washing Macleod’s feet, he said to the girl, “You see that poor sick man there. I hope you’ll wash his feet too: it will be a great charity; for he has as much need as I have.” “No such thing,” said she, “although I wash the master’s feet, I am not obliged to wash the servant’s. What! he’s but a low country woman’s son. I will not wash his feet indeed.” Malcolm, however, with much entreaty, prevailed upon the girl to wash Charles’s feet and legs; but being rather rough in her treatment, he implored Malcolm to desire her not to rub so hard.[1268]

After this operation the wearied travellers went to bed; and at the desire of Malcolm, Mrs. Mackinnon went out of the house, and sat down upon a neighbouring knoll, where she kept watch, whilst her guests remained in bed. Charles, who had thrown himself upon the bed in his clothes, slept two hours only; but Malcolm slept much longer. When Malcolm awoke, he was surprised to find Charles out of bed dandling Mrs. Mackinnon’s child, singing to it, and appearing as alert as if he had been in bed all night. He expressed a hope that the little boy--Neil Mackinnon--whom he carried in his arms, would be one day a captain in his service.

Informed that his brother-in-law was seen approaching the house, Malcolm went out to meet him. After the usual salutations, Malcolm, pointing to some ships of war that were hovering about the coast, said to Mackinnon, “What if the prince be on board one of them?” “God forbid,” replied Mackinnon, “I would not wish that for anything.” “What,” said Malcolm, “if he were here, John? Do you think he would be safe enough?” “I wish we had him here,” rejoined Mackinnon, “for he would be safe enough.” Macleod, now fully assured that his brother-in-law might be confided in, said, “Well, then, he is now in your house.” Mackinnon, transported with joy, was for running directly in and paying his obeisance to the prince; but Malcolm stopped him for a little, till he should recover from his surprise. “When you go in,” continued Malcolm, “you must not take any notice of him, lest the servants or others observe you. He passes for one Lewis Caw, my servant.” Mackinnon promised to observe faithfully the injunction given him, which he thought he would be able to fulfil; but, as soon as he entered the house, he could not avoid fixing his eyes upon Charles; and unable to repress his feelings at the spectacle he beheld, this generous and faithful Highlander, turning his face aside, burst into tears. To prevent suspicion, Mackinnon, at Malcolm’s desire, left the room to compose himself.

Before being introduced to the prince, Mackinnon sent away all his servants from the house on different messages, and, during their absence, a consultation was held as to Charles’s future destination. It was then resolved that he should proceed to the mainland immediately; and John Mackinnon was directed to go and hire a boat, as if for the sole use of his brother-in-law. As the laird of Mackinnon was old and infirm, and could be of little service to Charles in his present situation, Mackinnon was enjoined not to say anything about Charles to his chief, should he fall in with him. Meeting the old chieftain, however, on his way, Mackinnon, unable or unwilling to conceal the fact of the prince’s arrival at Ellagol, disclosed the secret, and mentioned that he was going to hire a boat to carry Charles to the mainland. Gratified with the intelligence, the chief desired his clansman not to give himself any further trouble about a boat, as he would provide a good one himself, and would wait upon the prince immediately. John returned to Ellagol, and having informed Charles of the interview with the laird, the latter said that he was sorry that Mackinnon had divulged the secret; but as there was now no help for it, he would comport himself according to circumstances. In a short time the aged chief appeared, and after doing homage to the royal wanderer, conducted the prince to a neighbouring cave, where he found Lady Mackinnon, who had laid out a refreshment of cold meat and wine, of which the whole party partook.

Before the arrival of the chief, Malcolm Macleod had represented to the prince, that, being within the laird’s bounds, it would be necessary to allow him to direct everything in relation to the voyage, and, to prevent a difference of opinion arising between him and the chief, he suggested the propriety of remaining behind. Charles, extremely unwilling to part with one who had rendered him such important services, insisted upon his going along with him to the mainland; but Malcolm insisting on the other hand that the measure was proper, Charles, with much reluctance, consented to part with the faithful Macleod.

About eight o’clock at night the party left the cave, and proceeded towards the place where the boat lay. In their way they observed two English men-of-war standing in for the island, before the wind, under a press of sail. Malcolm thereupon entreated the prince to defer his voyage till such time, at least, as these vessels should take another course, more particularly as the wind was against him; but Charles disregarded the admonition, and observed, that after so many escapes, he had no apprehensions of being caught at that time; that Providence would still take care of him; and that he had no doubt of obtaining a favourable wind immediately. Recollecting his sham appointment with Murdoch Macleod, for not keeping which Malcolm promised to make his apology, Charles thought the least thing he could do was to notify his departure, which he accordingly did, by writing him a short note, delivering it to Malcolm.[1269] He then desired Malcolm to light his pipe, as he wished to enjoy a smoke with him before parting. Snapping his gun, Malcolm, by means of the flash in the pan, lighted some tow which he held at the mouth of the pipe whilst Charles blew it. As the pipe was extremely short, Charles’s cheek was scorched with the blaze of the tow. At parting, Charles presented him with a silver stock-buckle, and then embracing Malcolm in his arms, saluted him twice, and begging God to bless him, put ten guineas into his hand. Malcolm at first positively refused to accept the money, as he perceived that the prince’s purse was much exhausted; but Charles insisted upon his taking it, and assuring him that he would get enough for all his wants upon the mainland, Malcolm yielded. Having procured a better pipe, Charles presented the one with which he had been smoking to Malcolm, who preserved it with great care.[1270]

Between eight and nine o’clock in the evening of Friday, the 4th of July, the prince departed for the mainland, accompanied by the chief and John Mackinnon. The observation of Charles, that he would obtain a fair wind after putting to sea, had made a deep impression upon the superstitious mind of the generous Malcolm, who accordingly sat down upon the side of a hill to watch the expected change, which, according to him, took place very soon, for the crew had not rowed the boat half a mile from the shore in the direction of the ships, before the wind chopped about, and whilst it favoured the prince, drove the men-of-war out of sight.[1271]

After a rough voyage, the party reached a place called Little Mallag or Malleck, on the south side of Loch Nevis between Morar and Knoydart, distant about thirty miles from the place where they had embarked. At sea they met a boat, containing some armed militia. No attempt was made to board, and a few words were exchanged in passing. Charles’s visit to Skye soon became public, and the fact of his having been harboured and protected by certain persons in that island could not be disguised. Malcolm Macleod’s connexion with the prince being reported, he was apprehended a few days after Charles’s departure for the mainland, put on board a ship, and conveyed to London, where he remained a prisoner till the 1st of July, 1747, when he was discharged without being asked a single question. Kingsburgh also was taken up and conveyed to Fort Augustus, where, after being plundered of his shoe-buckles, garters, watch, and money, he was thrown into a dungeon, and loaded with irons. He was discharged by mistake for another person of the same name, but was brought back, and afterwards conveyed to Edinburgh, and committed to the castle, in which he remained till the 4th of July, in the same year.

Flora Macdonald was also apprehended about the same time by a party of militia, while on her way to the house of Donald Macdonald of Castleton in Skye, who had sent her notice that Macleod of Talisker, an officer of an independent company, had requested him to send for her. She was put on board the Furnace Bomb, and afterwards removed to Commodore Smith’s sloop, and treated with great kindness and attention by him and General Campbell. She was confined a short time in Dunstaffnage castle. After being conveyed from place to place, she was put on board the Royal Sovereign, lying at the Nore, on the 28th of November, and carried up to London on the 6th of December following, where she remained in confinement till July in the following year, when she was discharged, at the especial request--according to the tradition of her family--of Frederick, Prince of Wales, father of George III., without a single question having been put to her. After her liberation, Miss Macdonald was invited to the house of Lady Primrose, a zealous Jacobite lady, where she was visited by a number of distinguished persons, who loaded her with presents. She and Malcolm Macleod returned to Scotland together in a post-chaise provided by Lady Primrose, and, on their way, paid a visit to Dr. Burton at York, who had been previously liberated from jail. This gentleman having asked Malcolm his opinion of the prince, the trusty Highlander replied, that “he was the most cautious man he ever saw, not to be a coward, and the bravest, not to be rash.” Few persons, now-a-days, will be disposed to concur in this eulogium, for though personally brave, Charles was extremely rash and inconsiderate.[1272]

As parties of the military were known to be stationed at a short distance from the place where Charles and his party landed, they were afraid to leave it, and slept three nights in the open air on the banks of Loch Nevis. On the fourth day the old laird and one of the boatmen ventured a little way into the country in quest of a place of concealment; and the prince, along with John Mackinnon and the other three boatmen, proceeded up the loch close to the shore. In turning a point, they unexpectedly came upon a boat tied to a rock, and so near as to touch her with their oars. This boat belonged to a militia party who were seen standing on the shore, and were at once recognised by their badge, which was a red cross on their bonnets. This party immediately hailed the boat, and demanded to know whence they came. The boatmen answered that they were from Sleat. The militiamen then ordered the boat to come ashore; but the boatmen continuing to row, the military jumped into their boat and gave chase. Charles, who lay in the bottom of the boat with John Mackinnon’s plaid spread over him, wished to get up and attempt to escape by jumping ashore, but Mackinnon would not allow him, as he considered the experiment very dangerous. During the pursuit, Charles, who was anxious to know the relative progress of the two boats, kept up a conversation with the trusty Highlander, who assured him from time to time that the pursuers did not gain upon them. Both parties were equal in point of numbers; and as Mackinnon contemplated the possibility of the militiamen overtaking them, he directed the boatmen to keep their muskets close by them, but not to fire till he should give the word of command by firing first. “Be sure, (said John,) to take an aim. Mark well, and there is no fear. We will be able to manage these rogues, if we come to engage them.” Charles, begging that no lives might be sacrificed without an absolute necessity, Mackinnon said he would not fire if it could be avoided; but if compelled to do so in self-defence, their own preservation required that none of the assailants should escape to tell the news of their disaster. Observing a wood at some distance which reached down to the water, Mackinnon directed the boatmen to pull in that direction; and on reaching the shore, the prince, followed by Mackinnon and one of the boatmen, sprang out of the boat, and plunging into the wood, nimbly ascended the hill. The alarm into which they had been thrown gave place to feelings of a very different description, when, on reaching the summit of the hill, they perceived their pursuers returning from their fruitless chase.[1273]

Finding himself much fatigued, Charles slept three hours on this eminence, and returning down the hill, crossed the loch to a small island near the seat of Macdonald of Scothouse. Understanding that old Clanranald was there on a visit, Charles sent Mackinnon to solicit his protection, but the old chief positively refused to receive him. Upon Mackinnon’s return the party repassed the loch, and returned to Mallag, where they rejoined the old laird. After refreshing themselves, they set out for the seat of Macdonald of Morar, about eight miles distant. In crossing the promontory between Loch Nevis and Loch Morar they passed a shieling, or cottage, where they observed some people coming down towards the road. Afraid that he would be known, the prince made John Mackinnon fold his plaid for him, and threw it over his shoulder with his knapsack upon it. To disguise himself still further, he tied a handkerchief about his head. In this attire Charles passed for Mackinnon’s servant. A grandson of Macdonald of Scothouse, who was at the shieling, gave the party a draught of milk. At another shieling they procured another draught; and, as the night was dark and the road bad, they took a guide along with them to conduct them across the ford to Morar’s house. When they came to this ford, an amusing occurrence took place. Mackinnon, desirous to keep Charles dry in crossing, desired the guide to be so good as carry “this poor sick fellow,” (pointing to the prince,) upon his back across the ford, as it was then pretty deep; but the guide indignantly answered, “The deil be on the back he comes, or any fellow of a servant like him; but I’ll take _you_ on my back, Sir, if you please, and carry you safely through the ford.” “No, by no means,” said Mackinnon, “if the lad must wade, I’ll wade along with him, and help him, lest any harm should happen to him;” on saying which, he laid hold of Charles’s arm, and they crossed the ford together. Both Charles and Mackinnon were pleased to find that the guide had no suspicion that the pretended sick person was the prince.

A little before day-break the party arrived at the end of their journey, but were disappointed to find that the mansion, where they expected to meet with a hospitable reception, had been burnt to the ground, and that its proprietor had been obliged to take up his abode in a bothy or hut in the neighbourhood. Morar, who had acted as lieutenant-colonel of Clanranald’s regiment, gave the prince a hearty welcome. Having entertained Charles and his party, he conducted them to a cave for security, and went off in quest of young Clanranald, whom the prince was most anxious to see. After some hours’ absence Morar returned, and, reporting that he could not find Clanranald, Charles told him that as he had failed in meeting with that young chief, he would put himself under Morar’s charge. According to Mackinnon’s statement, Morar declined to take such a responsibility upon him, and even declared that he did not know any person to whose care he could commit Charles’s person. The prince, stung by the altered demeanour of Morar, thus accosted him: “This is very hard. You were very kind yesternight, Morar! and said you could find out a hiding-place, proof against all the search of the enemy’s forces; and now you say you can do nothing at all for me! You can travel to no place but what I will travel to; no eatables or drinkables can you take but what I can take a share along with you, and be well content with them, and even pay handsomely for them. When fortune smiled upon me and I had pay to give, I then found some people ready enough to serve me; but now that fortune frowns on me, and I have no pay to give, they forsake me in my necessity.” The chief of Mackinnon and his clansman were highly indignant at Morar, and insisted that he must have seen young Clanranald, and that he had been advised to his present course, but Morar resolutely denied the charge. Charles in great distress exclaimed, “O God Almighty! look down upon my circumstances, and pity me; for I am in a most melancholy situation. Some of those who joined me at first, and appeared to be fast friends, now turn their backs upon me in my greatest need: and some of those again who refused to join me, and stood at a distance, are now among my best friends; for it is remarkable that those of Sir Alexander Macdonald’s following have been most faithful to me in my distress, and contributed greatly to my preservation.” Then turning round to Mackinnon, he said, “I hope, Mr. Mackinnon, you will not desert me too, and leave me in the lurch; but that you will do all for my preservation you can.” The old laird, thinking that these words were meant for him, said, with tears in his eyes, “I never will leave your royal highness in the day of danger; but will, under God, do all I can for you, and go with you wherever you order me.”--“Oh no!” rejoined Charles, “that is too much for one of your advanced years, Sir; I heartily thank you for your readiness to take care of me, as I am well satisfied of your zeal for me and my cause; but one of your age cannot well hold out with the fatigues and dangers I must undergo. It was to your friend John here, a stout young man, I was addressing myself.”--“Well then,” said John, “with the help of God, I will go through the wide world with your royal highness, if you desire me.”[1274]

Disappointed in his inquiries after Clanranald, and unsuccessful, if John Mackinnon’s statement be correct, in his application to Morar, Charles resolved to go to Borodale, and solicit the assistance of “honest old Æneas Macdonald.” Accordingly, after taking leave of the laird of Mackinnon, Charles set off for Borodale, accompanied by John Mackinnon, under the direction of a boy, a son of Morar, as guide. The party reached Borodale, on the morning of the 10th of July, before day-break. As was the case at Morar, the house of the proprietor had been burnt by a body of troops, under Captain Ferguson, and Borodale was residing in a hut hard by the ruins of his mansion. Borodale was in bed when Charles arrived, and the door was shut. Mackinnon called upon Borodale to rise, who, knowing his voice, got up, and throwing some blankets about him, went to the door. Mackinnon asked him if he had heard any thing of the prince. “No,” replied the old gentleman. “What would you give,” rejoined John, “for a sight of him?” “Time was,” said the warm-hearted Highlander, “that I would have given a hearty bottle to see him safe; but since I see you I expect to hear some news of him.” “Well, then,” replied Mackinnon, “I have brought him here, and will commit him to your charge. I have done my duty, do you yours.” “I am glad of it,” said Borodale, “and shall not fail to take care of him: I shall lodge him so secure that all the forces in Britain shall not find him out.” John Mackinnon then took his leave, and returned to Ellagol; but he had scarcely reached his house when he was apprehended by a party of militia, and along with his chief, who was also captured by another party at Morar, the morning after Charles’s departure, conveyed to London, and kept in confinement till July, 1747.

Borodale conducted his guest to a hut in a neighbouring wood, where he entertained him in the best manner he could for three days, and in the meantime, Charles despatched John Macdonald, junior, one of Borodale’s sons, with a letter to Alexander Macdonald of Glenaladale, who had been in his service as Major of the Clanranald regiment.[1275] Receiving, shortly after this express had been sent, information of the laird of Mackinnon’s capture, and judging that his residence in the wood was not safe, Borodale, accompanied by his son Ronald, who had been a lieutenant in Clanranald’s own company, conducted Charles to an almost inaccessible cave four miles eastward, in which he directed him to remain till Glenaladale should arrive.

Charles’s letter was punctually delivered to Glenaladale, who, two days after it was written, viz. on the 15th of July, met Borodale at an appointed place, and paid a visit to Charles. Next day Borodale received a letter from his son-in-law, Angus Mac Eachan, residing in the glen of Morar, who had served as surgeon to Glengarry’s regiment, informing him that a rumour was beginning to prevail in the country, that the prince was in concealment about Borodale; and representing the danger Charles would be in, by remaining on Borodale’s lands any longer, he offered him a more secure asylum, in a place he had prepared for him. Before accepting this offer, Ronald Macdonald was sent to reconnoitre the place. Next day, John Macdonald was despatched to view the coast, and ascertain the motions of the military; and having brought intelligence that he saw a boat approaching that part of the coast where the grotto was situated, Charles, without waiting for the return of Ronald Macdonald, immediately left the cave, and set off for the glen of Morar, to the place prepared for him. He was accompanied by Glenaladale, Borodale, and John Macdonald junior, son of the latter. They were met, at a place called Corrybeine Cabir, by Borodale’s son-in-law, who informed Charles that Clanranald was waiting a few miles off, to conduct him to a safe place of concealment he had prepared for him. Charles would have proceeded to meet Clanranald, but as the evening was far advanced, and as he was much nearer his intended quarters in Glen Morar than the place where Clanranald was, he proceeded onward, intending to communicate with him next day.

Borodale, who had proceeded to Glen Morar in advance of the party to procure some necessaries, received information, on his arrival there, that some men-of-war with troops on board, under General Campbell, had anchored in Loch Nevis. He thereupon despatched two men to Loch Nevis, by way of Loch Morar, to observe General Campbell’s motions, and having received farther intelligence, that Captain Scott had arrived with a party in the lower part of Arisaig, he returned to Charles, and communicated to him the information he had received. Being assured that Charles was upon one of the promontories betwixt Loch Hourn and Loch Shiel, the English commanders had formed a chain of posts across the heads of these and the intermediate arms of the sea, so as to intercept him should he attempt to escape by land into the interior; and to catch him, should he venture to return to the islands, cruisers and boats were stationed at the mouths of the lochs. The sentinels along this line, which extended to the length of thirty miles, were placed so near one another in the day time, that no person could pass without being seen by them, and at night fires were lighted at every post, and the opposite sentinels passed, and repassed one another, from fire to fire. To cross such a chain during the day was quite impossible, nor did a passage by night appear more practicable.