VIII.—HOW THE SHERIFF AND HIS TROOP WERE CARED FOR.
Early in the morning, Captain Wogan with his brother, and Mr. Talbot and his brother, set forth on horseback to patrol the country, and proceeded towards Dunstan-borough, stationing themselves at various points commanding the road.
They did not return till late in the afternoon, and then they brought no alarming intelligence. There were no signs whatever of the approach of the enemy. They had seen Sir John Webb's carriage in the distance, but it came on so slowly that they had not waited for it.
Half an hour afterwards the carriage arrived, and then the prince learnt what had happened and was greatly amused by Sir John's description of the arrest made by the sheriff.
It appeared that the supposed royal prisoner was taken to Newcastle, where the mistake was quickly discovered, and the man set at liberty. Sir John was likewise allowed to proceed on his journey.
“The sheriff was very much mortified by the great blunder he had made,” remarked Sir John. “But I don't think he will give up the pursuit, and I fear your majesty may expect a visit from him at Bamborough.”
“I hope I shall be gone before he makes his appearance,” said the prince. “To-night I set sail for France.”
“Since such is the case, I have only to wish your majesty a safe and speedy voyage,” said Sir John. “And I sincerely trust nothing may occur to interfere with your departure.”
A plan to be adopted in the event of any sudden emergency having been decided upon, the prince agreed to dine at the mansion, and the whole of the party assembled as before, with the addition of Sir John and Lady Webb.
All the servants had received their orders, so no apprehension was entertained of a surprise. The prince was not in very good spirits, and Dorothy, who sat next to him, did her best to cheer him.
The repast was about half over, when a servant hastily entered the room, and informed his master that the sheriff had arrived with a large posse of men.
On this the prince immediately arose, and in pursuance of the plan previously arranged passed through a window into the garden, where a servant was waiting to conduct him by a private entrance to the castle. No one else attended his highness.
The company remained at table; the prince's chair being instantly removed, and the vacancy filled up. All this was the work of a few moments.
Shortly afterwards, the sheriff was ushered into the room, and seemed greatly surprised by the sight of so large a party, for which he was evidently unprepared.
While he was hesitating what to do, Mr. Forster arose, and greeting him in a friendly manner, said:
“I hope you are come to dine with me, Sir William. I shall be very glad of your company, I assure you.”
“But I have business of importance, sir,” cried the sheriff.
“We will discuss that after dinner,” said Forster.
“I am very sorry to interrupt you, sir, but——”
“Nay, I will take no refusal,” cried Forster, leading him to the table.
At a sign from Forster a chair was then brought, and placed next his own, and the sheriff was almost forced into it.
Jesmond, who had entered the dining-room at the same time as his superior officer, stationed himself behind the chair, wondering what would happen next, but not venturing to interfere.
“What will you take, Sir William—some venison? There is a fine haunch at the other end of the table.”
“You ought to take a prisoner, Sir William,” whispered Desmond.
“So I will presently,” replied the sheriff in the same tone. “But I will begin with the venison. Is the Pretender here?”
“I don't see him, Sir William,” replied the official, looking round inquisitively at the guests. “But I can't quite distinguish the features of the persons at the bottom of the table. Stay! there is some one rather like him next to Sir John Webb.”
“Be quite sure you are right,” said the sheriff. “It won't do to make a second mistake.”
Meantime, the venison was brought, and proved so good that the sheriff made no objection to a few more slices. At the same time he very readily accepted Mr. Forster's challenge to a glass of claret.
He was now in a much better humour, and partook of several other dishes, and repeatedly emptied the goblet which was constantly replenished by the butler.
The generous wine did its duty, and he almost forgot his errand. He had no one now to remind him of it, for Jesmond had been lured to the sideboard by the butler, and a flask of claret proffered him. He did not decline the attention. Since his chief was enjoying himself he did not see why he should not follow his example.
But it was not merely Mr. Forster who was attentive in the extreme to his unwelcome guest. Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington, with both of whom Sir William Lorraine was well acquainted, though political and religious differences kept them apart—these two proud nobles, we say, quite unbent, and were excessively complaisant, inviting him to take wine, and conversing very familiarly with him.
Sir John Webb pursued the same course, and as he drank a glass of wine with the sheriff, he gave him a knowing look, just to remind him of the recent adventure. Sir William laughed very good-humouredly.
Thus the dinner went on, and the sheriff became yet more cheerful, as was naturally to be expected, for he had now drunk a good deal of claret.
With the removal of the cloth, the ladies disappeared, for they knew what was likely to occur, and then an immense bowl of punch was placed before the host for the delectation of such as preferred that pleasant beverage to claret.
Unfortunately for himself, Sir William yielded to the seduction. At that precise juncture he meant to have assumed an authoritative air, preparatory to carrying out the business that brought him thither; but a bumper of punch caused him to postpone it to a later moment.
Jesmond was no longer there to watch over him, and incite him by his observations.
That vigilant official had been taken to the butler's pantry, where he, too, had his share—somewhat more than his share of a strong bowl of punch. Punch was his weakness, as well as that of the sheriff, and he found the temptation irresistible.
It must not be supposed that while their leader was thus cared for, the yeomen were neglected. On the contrary they were very well attended to. They were told that the sheriff had ordered them to dismount, and they very readily obeyed. Their horses were accommodated in the squire's roomy stables, and they themselves were conducted to the spacious servant's hall, where all that was left—and it was no slight matter—of the abundant dinner was set before them, together with as much strong ale as they chose to drink. They were not served with punch, like their betters, but they were offered usquebaugh, and we may be sure they did not refuse the stimulating liquor, which nearly resembled whisky, pretty freely.
IX.—THE PRINCE'S PARTING INJUNCTIONS TO LORD DERWENTWATER AND ANNA.
On quitting the dining-room before the scene of revelry commenced, the ladies left the mansion to its noisy occupants, and repaired to the castle—gaining admittance in the same manner as the prince. They found his highness in the guardroom alone, pacing to and fro. He questioned them eagerly as to how all was going on.
“The scheme has completely succeeded,” said Lady Webb. “In two hours' time—if they go on as they are now doing—the sheriff and his party will be quite incapable of offering any opposition to your majesty's departure. As to their attacking the castle, that is quite out of the question.”
“Your majesty may depend that my brother will take good care of your chief enemy,” said Dorothy. “The others will be entertained in the servants' hall—so well entertained that they are not likely to stir till your majesty is safe on board the Saint Abbs.”
“Excellent!” cried the prince. “Good wine has never been turned to better account than on the present occasion. I own I doubted the success of the scheme, but I did not know the habits of my Northumbrian lieges so well as Mr. Forster. The sheriff appears to have fallen very easily into the snare.”
“He was skilfully dealt with,” laughed Anna; “caught before he knew what he was about.”
After a little further discourse, they came forth into the court, where they continued till such time as it began to grow dark, when they mounted the outer walls, and gazed at the dusky, yet glimmering expanse spread out before them.
The tide was coming in, and they could distinguish the white line formed by the waves, and hear their sound as they broke upon the shore.
As had been anticipated, the night was fine, and the wind favourable for the prince's voyage. Already, the beacon had been lighted on Prior Castell's Tower, so that the position of the rocky islands could be discerned. As far as could be made out, there were no ships or smaller craft in the Fairway.
The boat destined for the prince was lying upon the beach, but could be easily pushed into sea, and two men were standing near it.
Having made these observations, the prince and the ladies with him returned to the basement court where they found Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington.
The tidings brought by the two nobles were highly satisfactory. No fear now of any interruption from the sheriff. He was discussing a second bowl of punch with Mr. Forster, and when that was finished, a third would be brought in. His followers were equally well employed. So much boisterous merriment was going on in the house, Lord Derwentwater declared, that he was right glad to escape from it.
Under these circumstances, and since no interference could be expected, the prince determined to repair at once to the beach and there await the signal from the ship.
All his slight preparations for the voyage being conflicted he had only to bid adieu to his fair companions; for the two nobles, of course, would not quit him till the last moment. But the ladies were equally desirous to attend him, and he could not refuse their request.
So the whole party quitted the castle by the private entrance, and followed by the gate-porter carrying the prince's valise proceeded towards the shore.
The night was dark, as already stated, but the windows of the mansion were lighted up, and the din of merriment resounded from within. The noise was welcome to the prince, as it convinced him that his enemies were occupied.
Lord Widdrington guided the party through the heaps of sand collected at the foot of the lofty rock on which stood the fortress, until they gained the beach.
It was now nearly high water, and only a strip of sand intervened between the sea and the rock. But the boat was still lying where the prince had descried it from above, and the men were close beside it awaiting orders.
It was then that the prince addressed a few parting words to Lord Derwentwater and his betrothed.
“When I come back, and I mean to come back soon,” he said, “I trust I shall find that the contract which I witnessed has been followed by a yet more binding ceremony, and that two persons in whom I take the deepest interest have been for ever united in the silken bonds of matrimony by our Holy Church. Do not delay. When a matter like this has been settled, the sooner it is carried out the better.”
“There shall be no delay on my part—that I promise your majesty,” said Lord Derwentwater.
“And none on yours, I trust, fair lady?”
“None,” she replied, but in accents so low that they were scarce heard above the sound of the waves as they flowed within a few yards of them.
“All then will go well,” said the prince. “May our next merry meeting be at Dilston! where the lovely bride, as well as her noble consort, will, I am certain, give me a hearty welcome.”
“That I will, my gracious liege, most assuredly, if I am there,” she rejoined.
“If you are not there, I won't enter the castle,” said the prince. “But find you I shall—or there is no truth in man or woman.”
“Nay, my liege, I only meant that you may perchance return before the marriage has been solemnised.”
“Have I not said that it must not be delayed?” rejoined the prince. “I now lay my command upon you both to that effect, and I trust I shall not be disobeyed.”
“I will take care that your majesty's injunctions are fulfilled,” said Lady Webb.
“With that assurance I shall depart in better humour with myself than I should have done otherwise,” said the prince. “My voyage has not been altogether fruitless. If I have not succeeded in my own design I have helped a dear friend to a charming wife—and that is something.”
Just then, a flash of light was seen in the Fairway, and next moment the sound of a gun was heard; the loud report being echoed by the rocks behind the party.
X.—THE ESCAPE.
All eyes were turned in the direction whence the sound had come, and a single masted vessel could be imperfectly distinguished, about half a mile off.
“'Tis the sloop!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington.
“Yes, I am summoned, and must go,” cried the prince. “Farewell! Farewell!”
On hearing the signal, the two men instantly pushed down the boat into the water. All was ready, for the valise had been previously placed inside it by the porter, together with a couple of firelocks.
It had been arranged that the two nobles should accompany the prince to the sloop. Accordingly they entered the boat with him.
As the bark quitted the strand, the prince stood up to wave an adieu to the ladies—but they were soon lost to sight.
Rowed by two strong men, the boat made good way towards the sloop, and it seemed would soon reach her, when an unlooked-for interruption occurred.
A dark object was seen lying directly in their course, and as there could be no doubt it was a boat, much larger than their own, they turned aside to avoid it.
As they did so, the larger boat was put in motion, with the evident design of giving chase, while a loud authoritative voice called out to the occupants of the small bark to stop.
As may be imagined, the order was entirely disregarded while Lord Widdrington urged the oarsmen to pull their hardest for the ship, and they made such exertion that they appeared to gain on their pursuers.
Of the purpose of the latter no doubt could now be entertained. It was certain they were endeavouring to intercept the prince's flight, and effect his capture. How they had obtained information could only be surmised, but they had laid their plans well. The prince's companions were greatly alarmed, but he himself maintained perfect composure.
“'Tis the boat I beheld this morning from the castle walls,” he said. “I felt sure it meant mischief, though Mr. Forster thought otherwise. The men within it are armed.”
“Luckily, we have arms,” said Lord Derwentwater, giving Lord Widdrington one of the muskets and keeping the other himself. “Shall we use them?”
“Certainly,” replied the prince. “I will never surrender to those men.”
A conflict, indeed, appeared inevitable, if they were overtaken, for a voice called out from the larger boat:
“Stop! or we will fire.”
As no notice was taken of the threat, except that the rowers redoubled their efforts, a shot was fired, and a bullet whistled past the prince's head, but without doing any injury.
Exasperated by the audacious act the two nobles discharged their muskets, and with good effect, as was shown by the outcries that followed.
Evidently a couple of men were wounded, and great confusion was caused among the rest.
In consequence of this they lost way, and the distance between the boats was perceptibly increased.
However, they soon recovered, and continued the chase with fresh ardour, again shouting to the fugitives to stop.
“Stand off, villains, or we will fire again!” cried Lord Derwentwater. “What do you mean by molesting us thus?”
“We want the Pretender, and will have him,” rejoined the voice that had first spoken. “You had best deliver him up quietly. He shall not escape.”
Though very well inclined to answer this insolent speech by a shot, Lord Derwentwater forbore, but the pursuers again fired, and this time one of the rowers was hit in the arm, so that he could not pull at the oars, whereupon, Lord Widdrington took his place.
But the change, though quickly effected, caused some little delay, and the pursuers gained upon them.
An encounter now seemed imminent, and since the prince was determined not to yield, it might be fraught with most serious consequences.
To avert these if possible, Lord Derwentwater shouted lustily to attract the attention of the captain of the sloop which was now not more than a furlong off.
Captain Hawker was already on the alert, and prepared to render assistance. The firing had shown him the relative position of the boats, and comprehending exactly how matters stood, he thought it high time to interfere.
Putting a speaking-trumpet, therefore, to his mouth, he roared out:
“Sheer off, or I'll sink you!”
The warning reached the ears for which it was intended, but produced no effect.
The men went on, as boldly as ever, determined not to be baulked of their prey.
However, they were speedily checked, for Captain Hawker turned a swivel-gun upon them and sent a shot through the bottom of their boat, which began presently to fill, and compelled them to look to their own safety.
Being now disembarrassed from his pursuers, the prince got safely on board the sloop, after taking an affectionate leave of his friends.
Their duty being now performed, the two nobles returned to Bamborough Castle without concerning themselves further about their pursuers, whose vociferations proved they were still afloat, and able no doubt, in some way or other, to reach the Home Island.
The sheriff had still to be dealt with, but now that the prince was safe they had little fear of him.
Free from all peril, the sloop, with its important burden, passed tranquilly through the Fairway, and entered the open sea.
END OF BOOK THE SECOND.
BOOK THE THIRD—THE INSURRECTION IN SCOTLAND.
I.—THE HUNTING IN BRAEMAR.
Not till the accession of George the First did the general insurrection take place, for which the partisans of the Pretender had been preparing so long.
During the latter years of Anne, who was so much and so deservedly beloved by the people, the Jacobites had remained quiescent, believing that in the political crises certain to arise on the queen's death, the Chevalier de Saint George would be called to the throne.
Disappointed in this expectation, they determined not to tolerate a rule adverse to the religion of the majority, and hateful to all.
In the year 1715, at which date we shall resume our story, a formidable plot spread throughout England and Scotland, causing the greatest alarm to the Government by the avowed intention of the conspirators to depose the reigning monarch, whom they described as a tyrannous usurper, and restore the ancient sovereignty.
Aware of the designs of his enemies, King George made an appeal to the Nation, in which he said, that after his solemn assurances, and the opportunities he had taken to do everything that might tend to benefit the Church of England, it was unjust and ungrateful to doubt him, and he refused to believe that the people could be so far misled by false representations as to desire to place a Popish Pretender on the throne.
In an address to his majesty by the Lord Mayor, James the Third was denounced as an impostor, who proposed to govern the kingdom by Popish maxims, while the High Church Tories, who were regarded as the Pretender's main supporters in England, and more dangerous than the Roman Catholics themselves, were stigmatised as “Nonresisting rebels, passive-obedience rioters, abjuring Jacobites, and Frenchified Englishmen; monsters, whom no age or country ever produced till now.”
The first movements of the Jacobites were checked by the death of Louis the Fourteenth, and the appointment of the Duke of Orleans as Regent; thus precluding any hope of immediate assistance from France, as had been previously calculated upon, since the Regent, on assuming the government, had at once entered into friendly relations with George the First.
Notwithstanding this unpropitious circumstance, the Chevalier de Saint George, who felt that his position had become critical, sent orders to the Earl of Mar and some others of his adherents that a general rising should take place without delay.
The prince's command was promptly obeyed by the Earl of Mar, who embarked in disguise in a coal-sloop at Gravesend, accompanied by Major-General Hamilton and Colonel John Hay, brother of the Earl of Kinnoul. Eventually the earl and his companions reached Braemar Castle in Aberdeenshire in safety.
The forests of Braemar were celebrated for red deer, and under the pretext of a grand hunting-match, the earl invited all the principal Scottish nobles, and chiefs of clans, whom he knew to be opposed to the Union, and attached to the Stewarts. His list of guests included the Marquis of Huntly, eldest son of the Duke of Gordon, the Marquis of Tullibardine, eldest son of the Duke of Athole; the Earls of Nithsdale, Marischal, Traquaire, Errol, Southesk, Carnwath, Seaforth, Linlithgow, and Panmure, with nearly a dozen others. Among the chiefs of clans were Glengarry, Campbell of Glendarule, and Mackintosh. They well knew why they were invited, and came attended by numerous followers.
It was a grand sight to see all these nobles and chiefs in full Highland costume, and attended by their vassals and retainers, likewise in Highland dress, and all carrying guns upon the shoulder, assembled in front of the castle, preparatory to setting out on the hunt. With them were several couples of large deer-hounds held in leash by the huntsmen.
No one was better pleased with the sight than the Earl of Mar. Such a goodly attendance augured well for the cause.
Full of glee, and expecting famous sport, the hunting party set out for a defile in the forest into which they knew the deer would be driven. Here the terrified animals were found, and great slaughter was made among them.
The rest of the day was devoted to feasting and carousing. Much venison was eaten—much wine drunk. Nor were the vassals neglected—but fared as well as their lords. As they could not, however, be accommodated in the castle, they found a couch amid the heather.
Early next day, the party again set out for the defile, and a repetition of the previous scene of slaughter took place.
But as soon as the hunt was over, the nobles and chiefs attended by their vassals repaired to a rendezvous agreed upon in the forest, where they found the Earl of Mar with General Hamilton and Colonel Hay.
When the entire party had assembled, the earl mounted upon a fragment of rock, jutting from the turf, and addressed them.
===He told them that the honour and independence of Scotland were at stake, and that all true Scotsmen who prized their liberty, must fly to arms to deliver their beloved country from the oppression under which it groaned, and restore their deeply-wronged sovereign to the throne, now occupied by the tyrannous Hanoverian Usurper. The Union—that bane of Scotland—must be abolished. Bitterly did he regret that he had ever countenanced the hateful measure, but he would make amends by helping to effect its dissolution. But they must not stop there. Scotland had many other grievances, all of which would be redressed when their rightful king was restored—and restored he should be soon.
On this, an extraordinary scene ensued. All the nobles and chiefs clustered around the speaker, drew their claymores, and their example being instantly followed by the vassals, more than two hundred broad swords flashed in the sun.
At the same time shouts were heard of “No Union!”
“Down with the Hanoverian Usurper!”
“Long live King James the Eighth!”
Pausing till the shouting was over, the Earl of Mar then went on.
“Thousands,” he said, “in England, as well as in Scotland, are leagued together to accomplish the end we have in view, and only wait the signal to rise, which will now be given them. Material assistance may be expected from France. The Duke of Ormond and Lord Bolingbroke have gone to Paris to induce the Regent to supply us with men and arms, and they hope to return with a French fleet. Furthermore, the Duke of Berwick has engaged to make a descent upon our western coast, with a large force.”
“The Duke of Berwick's name would counterbalance that of Marlborough,” said the Marquis of Huntly. “But we must not count upon the great Marshal of France till he has landed. Neither must we depend upon the fleet to be brought by Ormond and Bolingbroke. These are doubtful. But we can confidently rely upon our English allies.”
“Have the Northumbrian Jacobites yet risen?” inquired the Marquis of Tullibardine.
“They are on the eve of rising,” replied the Earl of Mar. “All the disaffected gentlemen throughout the kingdom are ready for action.”
“Lord Derwentwater, I presume, will take the command of the Northumbrian force?” observed the Earl of Nithsdale.
“He is the fittest to do so,” replied the Earl of Mar. “But Forster of Bamborough, who is a High Church Tory, will probably be preferred. Forster is very popular with his party, and as the Tories are more influential with the commonalty in England than the Roman Catholics, we must have them heartily with us.”
“Lord Derwentwater resembles a Cavalier of Charles the First's time,” observed Lord Nithsdale. “I should like to see him at the head of a division.”
“And so should I,” said the Earl of Mar. “But it cannot be for the reasons I have just mentioned. Neither he nor Lord Widdrington must have a command.”
The Marquis of Huntly then addressed the assemblage, and told them that before proceeding further, it would be necessary to appoint a Commander-in-Chief of the Scottish Forces, by which thenceforward the war could be conducted.
“I cannot doubt,” he said, “on whom your choice will fall.”
“The Earl of Mar,” responded a hundred voices; “the Earl of Mar must be our commander-in-chief.”
And again the swords were waved.
“I am proud, indeed, to be thus unanimously chosen,” said the earl. “I consent to hold the post for the Duke of Berwick, to whom I shall at once relinquish it. What I lack in military skill and experience will be supplied by veteran warriors, one of whom I rejoice to see here.”
And as he spoke he directed his glance towards a lofty figure, standing at the outskirts of the assemblage.
So tall was this personage, who, like all the others was arrayed in full Highland costume, that he towered almost head and shoulders above those in front of him, and of course could easily be distinguished.
“'Tis Brigadier Mackintosh to whom I specially alluded,” said the earl. “He has had sufficient experience, for he has served, and with the greatest distinction, in Holland, Ireland, and France. I shall have a word to say to him anon.”
Then addressing the Marquis of Huntly, he said:
“I would not deprive myself of the great satisfaction your lordship has just given me, but I must mention that I had previously received a commission from King James, appointing me his lieutenant-general.”
And taking a letter from his breast, he placed it in his lordship's hands.
“This confirms our choice,” said the marquis, after reading the letter aloud, amid great applause, and reiterated expressions of satisfaction from the assemblage.
“My first step,” said the earl, when silence was restored, “shall be to set up the standard at Castletown, and proclaim King James. The Fiery Cross shall then be sent round to summon the clans to war. My headquarters will be fixed at Dunkeld.”
“Within a month I will join you there with three thousand men,” said the Earl of Searforth.
“Your arrival will be impatiently expected, my lord,” said Mar. “But by that time I hope to be in possession of Perth. How many men will your father, the Duke of Athole, give us, marquis?” he added to Tullibardine.
“Very few, in comparison with Lord Seaforth,” replied the other. “But I will bring all I can.”
“The duke, I know, is lukewarm in the cause,” said Mar. “But since both his sons are pledged, there can be no fear of him.”
“None whatever,” replied Lord Charles Murray, the Duke of Athole's younger son.
Promises of substantial aid were then given by the Earls of Southesk, Panmure, and other nobles, and by the chiefs Glengarry, and Gordon of Glendarule.
Last of all came Colonel Mackintosh, head of the powerful Clan Chattan. He engaged to raise six or seven hundred well-disciplined Highlanders, but stipulated that his kinsman, Brigadier Mackintosh of Borluni, should have the command of the regiment.
“Be it so, colonel, since you desire it,” said Mar. “But I have a more important command for your brave kinsman. Tell Brigadier Mackintosh that I desire to speak to him,” he added to Colonel Hay.
On hearing this order, those who were grouped around retired to a little distance, and a vacant space was thus left for the old Highland warrior.
II.—BRIGADIER MACKINTOSH OF BORLUM.
A VERY remarkable person was Brigadier Mackintosh, Laird of Borlum, and since he is destined to play a conspicuous part in our story, it may be proper to describe him.
The redoubted Laird of Borlum, then, was an old campaigner, having served in Holland years ago, in Ireland under James the Second, where he gained laurels, but little pay, and in France, where he had attained the rank of brigadier, which he still held. Devotedly attached to James the Second, on the death of that monarch, he had transferred all his loyalty to his son. The Chevalier de Saint George had no more zealous adherent than the brave Laird of Borlum.
Brigadier Mackintosh, when we first behold him, standing beside the Earl of Mar, who had quitted his elevated position on the rock to talk to him, could not be far from sixty. Yet despite the hardships he had undergone, he had few traces of age about him. His step was free, his glance piercing, his muscular power prodigious, and he could still run as fleetly, and endure as much fatigue as the youngest of his clan.
His personal appearance was very striking—features strongly marked and prominent, high cheek bones, a very firmly set mouth, and square chin. His eyes were grey and keen, and shaded by black brows, though his locks were blanched. His close-shaven cheeks were marked by many a scar.
The brigadier's expression was cautious, perhaps crafty, and sometimes so grim as to inspire terror. But on occasions his habitual sternness disappeared, and gave way to a winning bonhomie. Though a rigorous disciplinarian, he had always been liked by those who served under him. His enemies said that the brigadier did not object to plunder, and that his maxim was that war should pay its own expenses; but this was a principle pretty generally recognised by the Highlanders of the period.
“Why have you kept aloof, brigadier?” asked the earl.
“Because your lordship has others of mair importance to attend to than an auld trooper, who has only his sword to offer you.”
“Hout awa! your sword is worth a thousand men, brigadier, and that ye ken fu' weel. You are the man of all others I must have with me, heart and hand.”
“I am a man of few words as your lordship kens—I am ready to do your bidding.”
“Aweel then, your kinsman, Colonel Mackintosh, has promised to raise a regiment of six or seven hundred Highland men.”
“And so wad I, if I could only find the callants. But they are few and far to seek at Borlum.”
“What say you to taking the command of the Clan Chattan?”
“That belongs to our chief, unless——”
“He chooses to resign it to another, and I approve his choice. Will you take it?”
“Gladly,” replied the brigadier, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “Is this a' your lordship has to say to me, at present?”
“Ye are in a confounded hurry,” cried the earl, detaining him. “Hear me to an end.”
“My lord, I am all attention.”
“When all our forces have assembled, a strong detachment, to consist of five or six regiments, will be sent south to march with the Lowlanders and the Northumbrian insurgents to London. You shall command the detachment. If any man can make a rapid march, you can, brigadier. Long before you reach London, you will have a considerable army, for you are certain to receive large reinforcements in every county through which you pass—especially in Lancashire and Cheshire. You will, therefore, be able to give battle to all the forces the Hanoverian usurper can bring against you. Win that battle and the crown is gained for the prince.”
The brigadier drew his broadsword and kissed the hilt.
“I swear to devote myself to this enterprise!” he cried. “Turn back who may, I never will!”
Thereupon he bowed and retired, looking greatly elated.
III.—HOW THE STANDARD WAS SET UP, AND KING JAMES PROCLAIMED AT CASTLETOWN.
SHORTLY afterwards the whole party proceeded to the castle, where a grand banquet awaited them.
Even more wine was drunk on this occasion than on the previous day, and the company vied with each other in demonstrations of loyalty.
But the crowning act, that was to confound their enemies and confirm their friends, took place on the following day. The whole party assembled after breakfast, but without hounds or huntsmen.
A dozen sturdy bagpipers made the court ring with their shrill strains, announcing that the Earl of Mar was about to proceed to Castletown, which was not more than a mile off, attended by all the nobles and chiefs, and all their vassals and retainers, to set up the standard and proclaim King James.
The principal personages were on horseback—the rest on foot. At the head of the cavalcade was the Earl of Mar, and on his right rode Lord Charles Murray, who carried the standard.
The standard, which made a very splendid appearance, and excited general admiration, was of blue satin, embroidered on one side with the arms of Scotland in gold. On the other side was a thistle, underneath which were the words, “No Union.”
Pendants of white ribbon were attached to the banner: one of them bore the inscription, “For our wronged king and oppressed country;” the other, “For our lives and liberties.”
The pipers marched on in advance, playing vigorously.
The morning was fine, but gusty, and Craigendarroch seemed to frown upon them. Several Highlanders joined the party as they marched on, and some old men, barelegged women, young girls, and children followed at a distance. But there were few inhabitants in that wild region.
On reaching Castletown, the cavalcade rode into the market-place, where all the townsfolk were assembled, and the pipers, who had marched in first and taken up a good position, played with redoubled vigour, while the standard was set up on the market-cross.
A loud shout was then raised by the whole concourse, after which silence was authoritatively enjoined, and, a trumpet being sounded, the Earl of Mar read the proclamation in a loud clear voice that vibrated through every breast.
“By the decease of the late King James the Seventh, the imperial crown of these realms has lineally descended to his lawful heir and son our sovereign James the Eighth, and we the lords and others do accordingly declare him to be the lawful king over Scotland, England, and Ireland. We are bound by unalienable right to his family and person, and it is to be lamented that our fundamental constitution has been destroyed by factions. The unhappy Union of Scotland and England is also to be deeply lamented—with many other matters, such as the bringing in a foreign prince unacquainted with British planners, customs, and language—the support of his designs by foreign troops—and the contempt with which the military services of British troops are treated. We are determined to resort to the last extremities in order to remedy these grievances, and have our laws, liberties, and properties secured by the Parliaments of both kingdoms. In conclusion, we hope that, undisturbed by a Usurper's interests and council from abroad, or by a restless faction at home, the blessing and aid of Heaven will be extended to the succour of the Royal Family of Stuart and their country from sinking under oppression.”
The foregoing manifesto produced a very powerful effect, and the whole assemblage, having listened to it with profound attention, were about to give vent to their feelings, when a circumstance occurred that filled them all with superstitious terror.
By a sudden and violent gust, the silken banner was rent, and the gilded ball blown from the point of the spear, and, falling at the feet of Mar's horse, caused the animal to rear.
The greatest consternation was occasioned by this inauspicious occurrence.
Nothing but blanched faces were seen around, and the shouts died away on every lip. Men shook their heads, and said it was ominous of ill, and even Mar himself was not free from uneasiness.
“When King Charles the First's standard was blown down at Nottingham,” observed Lord Charles Murray to Brigadier Mackintosh, “it was thought to presage ill. What does this signify?”
The brigadier made no answer, but looked very grave.
The ill-omened incident cast a gloom over the party, from which they did not recover as long as they stayed together.
On quitting Castletown, the nobles and chiefs took leave of their host, and departed each to his respective home, to get together his men, and make all needful preparations for taking the field.
Subsequently, King James was proclaimed at divers other places, and once again by the Earl of Mar at Kirk-michael, near Dumfries.
Meanwhile, the whole of the Highlands were literally in a flame—-the Fiery Cross having been sent round in every direction to summon the clans. Such vassals as neglected the mandate of their chief conveyed by this terrible sign—a cross, dipped in blood, and burning—were liable to the penalty of fire and sword. Rarely was the summons disobeyed, and never unpunished, until the passing of the Clan Act by the Government.
Returning slowly from Dumfries, at the head of a thousand men—more than half of whom had joined him on the way—the Earl of Mar found his camp pitched by Colonel Hamilton and Clephane of Carslogie, in a beautiful situation on the side of the Tay.
Soon afterwards, such large reinforcements were brought him by the Earls of Strathern, Southesk, Marischal, and Panmure, that he found himself at the head of twelve thousand fighting men.
A most important achievement performed at this juncture by Colonel Hay gave additional éclat to the insurgents. This gallant officer had often boasted that he would capture Perth, and he now made good his word by surprising the garrison, and enabling Mar to occupy the city. Thenceforward Perth formed the head-quarters of the Scottish commander-in-chief.
Alarmed by the rapid progress of the rebellion, the Government of King George now began to take energetic measures for the repression of the outbreak. The Duke of Argyle hastened to Stirling, where troops were quickly concentrated, in order to keep the Highlanders in check, and prevent them from crossing the Forth.
All Scottish noblemen or gentlemen, actually in arms, or suspected of favouring the Pretender, were summoned to appear forthwith in Edinburgh, and find bail for their future good conduct. But very few surrendered themselves. Most of them were eager to take the field, and displeased that Mar did not give battle to Argyle, before further succours could reach him at Stirling.
The Scottish commander-in-chief hesitated, though Colonel Hay and others of his advisers remonstrated with him. He had just received a letter from Mr. Forster, praying him to send a couple of regiments to help them to make a rising in Northumberland. This request he was quite willing to grant—indeed, he did more than was asked. He immediately sent off the detachment, which he had prepared to march through England, under the command of Brigadier Mackintosh.
END OF BOOK THE THIRD.