CHAPTER XI
THE RED HEATHER HILLS
A sullen day, full of chill gusts and drizzle, sinking into a wet mistynight! Three hunted Jacobites, dragging themselves forward drearily, foundthe situation one of utter cheerlessness. For myself, misery spoke inevery motion, and to say the same of Creagh and Macdonald is to speak bythe card. Fatigue is not the name for our condition. Fagged out,dispirited, with legs moving automatically, we still slithered downcleughs, laboured through dingles and corries, clambered up craggymountainsides all slippery with the wet heather, weariness tugging at ourleaden feet like a convict's chain and ball. Our bones ached, our throatswere limekilns, composts of sores were our ragged feet.
On every side the redcoats had hemmed us in, and we knew not whether wetramped to a precarious safety or to death. Indeed, 'twas little we cared,for at last exhaustion had touched the limit of endurance. Not a word hadpassed the lips of any of us for hours, lest the irritation of our wornnerves should flame into open rupture.
At length we stood on the summit of the ridge. Scarce a half mile from usa shieling was to be seen on the shoulder of the mount.
"That looks like the cot where O'Sullivan and the Prince put up a monthago," said Creagh.
Macdonald ruffled at the name like a turkeycock. Since Culloden the wordhad been to him as a red rag to a bull.
"The devil take O'Sullivan and his race," burst out the Scotch Captain."Gin it had not been for him the cause had not been lost."
The Irishman's hot temper flared.
"You forget the Macdonalds, sir," he retorted, tartly.
"What ails you at the Macdonalds?" demanded the gentleman of that ilk,looking him over haughtily from head to foot.
Creagh flung out his answer with an insolent laugh. "Culloden."
The Macdonald's colour ebbed. "It will be a great peety that you hafeinsulted me, for there will presently be a dead Irishman to stain the snowwith hiss blood," he said deliberately, falling into more broken Englishas he always did when excited.
Creagh shrugged. "That's on the knees of the gods. At the worst it leavesone less for the butcher to hang, Scotch or Irish."
"It sticks in my mind that I hafe heard you are a pretty man with thesteel--at the least I am thinking so," said Captain Roy, standing straightas an arrow, his blue eyes fixed steadily on his opponent.
"Gadso! Betwixt and between, but I dare say my sword will serve to keep myhead at all events whatefer," cried Creagh, mimicking scornfully theother's accent.
Donald whipped his sword from its scabbard.
"Fery well. That will make easy proving, sir."
The quarrel had cropped out so quickly that hitherto I had found no timeto interfere, but now I came between them and beat down the swords.
"Are you mad, gentlemen? Put up your sword, Tony. Back, Macdonald, or onmy soul I'll run you through," I cried.
"Come on, the pair of ye. Captain Roy can fend for (look out for)himself," shouted the excited Highlander, thrusting at me.
"Fall back, Tony, and let me have a word," I implored.
The Irishman disengaged, his anger nearly gone, a whimsical smile alreadytwitching at his mouth.
"Creagh, you don't mean to impeach the courage of Captain Macdonald, doyou?" I asked.
"Not at all--not at all. Faith, I never saw a man more keen to fight," headmitted, smiling.
"He was wounded at Culloden. You know that?"
"So I have heard." Then he added dryly, some imp of mischief stirring him:"In the heel, wasn't it?"
"Yes, in the foot," I told him hastily. "I suppose you do not doubt thevalour of the Captain's clan any more than his own."
"Devil a bit!" he answered carelessly. "I've seen them fight too often toadmit of any question as to their courage at all, at all. For sheer daringI never saw the beat of the Highland troops--especially if there chancedto be any plunder on the other side of the enemy, Egad!"
I turned to Donald Roy, who was sullenly waiting for me to have done. "Areyou satisfied, Captain, that Tony meant to impute nothing against you oryour men?"
"Oich! Oich!" he grumbled. "I wass thinking I heard some other dirtysneers."
"If the sneers were unjust I retract them with the best will in the world.Come, Captain Macdonald, sure 'tis not worth our while doing the work ofthe redcoats for them. 'Slife, 'tis not fair to Jack Ketch!" exclaimed theIrishman.
"Right, Donald! Why, you fire-eating Hotspur, you began it yourself with afling at the Irish. Make up, man! Shake hands with Tony, and be done withyour bile."
Creagh offered his hand, smiling, and his smile was a handsome letter ofrecommendation. Donald's face cleared, and he gripped heartily the hand ofthe other.
"With great pleasure, and gin I said anything offensive I eat my words atall events," he said.
"You may say what you please about O'Sullivan, Captain Macdonald. Ecod, hemay go to the devil for me," Creagh told him.
"Well, and for me too; 'fore God, the sooner the better."
"If there is to be no throat-cutting to warm the blood maybe we had betterpush on to the bothy, gentlemen. I'm fain niddered [perishing] with thecold. This Highland mist goes to the marrow," I suggested merrily, andlinking arms with them I moved forward.
In ten minutes we had a roaring fire ablaze, and were washing down withusquebaugh the last trace of unkindness. After we had eaten our bannocksand brose we lay in the shine of the flame and revelled in the blessedheat, listening to the splash of the rain outside. We were stillencompassed by a cordon of the enemy, but for the present we were contentto make the most of our unusual comfort.
"Here's a drammoch left in the flask. I give you the restoration,gentlemen," cried Donald.
"I wonder where the Prince is this night," I said after we had drunk thetoast.
We fell to a meditative sombre silence, and presently Captain Roy began tosing softly one of those touching Jacobite melodies that go to the sourceof tears like rain to the roots of flowers. Donald had one of the rarevoices that carry the heart to laughter and to sobs. The singer's song,all pathos and tenderness, played on the chords of our emotion like aharp. My eyes began to smart. Creagh muttered something about thepeat-smoke affecting his, and I'm fain to admit that I rolled over with myface from the fire to hide the tell-tale tears. The haunting patheticwistfulness of the third stanza shook me with sobs.
"On hills that are by right his ain, He roams a lanely stranger; On ilka hand he's pressed by want, On ilka hand by danger."
"Ohon! Ohon!" groaned Donald. "The evil day! The evil day! Wae's me forour bonnie Hieland laddie!"
"May the Blessed Mother keep him safe from all enemies and dangers!" saidCreagh softly.
"And God grant that he be warm and well fed this bitter night wherever hemay be," I murmured.
Something heavy like the butt of a musket fell against the door, and westarted to our feet in an instant. Out flashed our swords.
"Who goes?" cried the Macdonald.
We threw open the door, and in came a party of four, rain dripping fromtheir soaked plaids. I recognized at once Young Clanranald and MajorMacleod. The other two were a tattered gillie in the Macdonald tartan anda young woman of most engaging appearance, who was supported in the armsof Clanranald and his henchman. The exhausted lady proved to be no otherthan the celebrated Miss Flora Macdonald, whose gallant and generousdevotion, for a protracted period, as we afterwards learned, hadundoubtedly saved the life of the Prince from his enemies.
Donald no sooner beheld his kinswoman than he dropped on his knee and withthe wildest demonstrations of joy kissed the hand of the ragged kerne whosupported her. I stared at Captain Roy in amazement, and while I was yetwondering at his strange behaviour Tony Creagh plumped down beside him. Myeyes went to the face of the gillie and encountered the winsome smile ofthe Young Chevalier. Desperately white and weary as he was, and dressed inan outcast's rags, he still looked every inch the son of kings. To me hewas always a m
ore princely figure in his days of adversity, when he roameda hunted wanderer among Highland heughs and corries with only those abouthim over whose hearts he still was king, than when he ruled at Holyroodundisputed master of Scotland.
It appeared that the party of the Prince, with the exception ofClanranald, were destined for Raasay, could they but run the cordon oftroopers who guarded the island of Skye. Through Malcolm, arrangements hadbeen made by which Murdoch Macleod, a younger brother wounded at Culloden,was to be in waiting with a boat to convey the party of the Prince acrossthe sound. It will be believed that we discussed with much care andanxiety the best disposition to be made of ourselves in running the linesof the enemy. The final decision was that the Prince, Malcolm, and Ishould make the attempt that night while Creagh, Captain Roy, and MissFlora followed at their leisure on the morrow. Since the young lady wasprovided with a passport for herself and her attendant this promised to bea matter of small danger on their part.
Never have I known a woman treated with truer chivalry and deference thanthis heroic Highland girl was by these hardy mountaineers. Her chief,Clanranald, insisted on building with his own hands a fire in her sleepingroom "ben" the house, and in every way the highest marks of respect wereshown her for her devotion to the cause. Though he expected to join heragain shortly, the Prince made her his warmest acknowledgments of thanksin a spirit of pleasantry which covered much tender feeling. They had beenunder fire together and had shared perils by land and by sea during whichtime his conduct to her had been perfect, a gentle consideration for hercomfort combined with the reserve that became a gentleman under suchcircumstances. On this occasion he elected to escort her in person to thedoor of her chamber.
After a snatch of sleep we set out on our perillous journey. Sheets ofrain were now falling in a very black night. Donald Roy parted from us atthe door of the hut with much anxiety. He had pleaded hard to be allowedto join the party of the Prince, but had been overruled on the ground thathe was the only one of us with the exception of Malcolm that could act asa guide. Moreover he was the kinsman of Miss Flora, and therefore hernatural protector. Over and over he urged us to be careful and to donothing rash. The Prince smilingly answered him with a shred of theGaelic.
"Bithidh gach ni mar is aill Dhiu." (All things must be as God will havethem.)
The blackness of the night was a thing to be felt. Not the faithfulAchates followed AEneas more closely than did we the Macleod. No sound cameto us but the sloshing of the rain out of a sodden sky and the noise offalling waters from mountain burns in spate (flood). Hour after hour whilewe played blindly follow-my-leader the clouds were a sieve over ourdevoted heads. Braes we breasted and precipitous heathery heights wesliddered down, but there was always rain and ever more rain, turning atlast into a sharp thin sleet that chilled the blood.
Then in the gray breaking of the day Malcolm turned to confess what I hadalready suspected, that he had lost the way in the darkness. We were atpresent shut in a sea of fog, a smirr of mist and rain, but when thatlifted he could not promise that we would not be close on the campfires ofthe dragoons. His fine face was a picture of misery, and bitterly hereproached himself for the danger into which he had led the Prince. TheYoung Chevalier told him gently that no blame was attaching to him; ratherto us all for having made the attempt in such a night.
For another hour we sat on the dripping heather opposite the corp-whiteface of the Macleod waiting for the mist to lift. The wanderer exertedhimself to keep us in spirits, now whistling a spring of Clanranald'smarch, now retailing to us the story of how he had walked through theredcoats as Miss Macdonald's Betty Burke. It may be conceived with whatanxiety we waited while the cloud of moisture settled from the mountaintops into the valleys.
"By Heaven, sir, we have a chance," cried Malcolm suddenly, and began tolead the way at a great pace up the steep slope. For a half hour wescudded along, higher and higher, always bearing to the right and at sucha burst of speed that I judged we must be in desperate danger. The Princehung close to the heels of Malcolm, but I was a sorry laggard ready to dieof exhaustion. When the mist sank we began to go more cautiously, for thevalley whence we had just emerged was dotted at intervals with thecampfires of the soldiers. Cautiously we now edged our way along theslippery incline, keeping in the shadow of great rocks and broom whereverit was possible. 'Tis not in nature to walk unmoved across an open whereevery bush may hide a sentinel who will let fly at one as gladly as at afat buck--yes, and be sure of thirty thousand pounds if he hit the rightmark. I longed for eyes in the back of my head, and every moment couldfeel the lead pinging its way between my shoulder blades.
Major Macleod had from his youth stalked the wary stag, and every saughand birch and alder in our course was made to yield us its cover. Once amuircock whirred from my very feet and brought my heart to my mouth.Presently we topped the bluff and disappeared over its crest. Another hourof steady tramping down hill and the blue waters of the sound stretchedbefore us. 'Twas time. My teeth chattered and my bones ached. I wassick--sick--sick.
"And here we are at the last," cried the Major with a deep breath ofrelief. "I played the gomeral brawly, but in the darkness we blunderedram-stam through the Sassenach lines."
"'Fortuna favet fatuis,'" quoted the Young Chevalier. "Luck for fools! Theusurper's dragoons will have to wait another day for their thirty thousandpounds. Eh, Montagu?" he asked me blithely; then stopped to stare at mestaggering down the beach. "What ails you, man?"
I was reeling blindly like a drunkard, and our Prince put an arm around mywaist. I resisted feebly, but he would have none of it; the arm of aking's son (de jure) supported me to the boat.
We found as boatmen not only Murdoch Macleod but his older brother YoungRaasay, the only one of the family that had not been "out" with our army.He had been kept away from the rebellion to save the family estates, buthis heart was none the less with us.
"And what folly is this, Ronald?" cried Malcolm when he saw the head ofthe house on the links. "Murdoch and I are already as black as we can be,but you were to keep clean of the Prince's affairs. It wad be a geyan illoutcome gin we lost the estates after all. The red cock will aiblins crawat Raasay for this."
"I wass threepin' so already, but he wass dooms thrang to come. He'llmaybe get his craig raxed (neck twisted) for his ploy," said Murdochcomposedly.
"By Heaven, Malcolm, I'll play the trimmer no longer. Raasay serves hisPrince though it cost both the estate and his head," cried the youngchieftain hotly.
"In God's name then let us get away before the militia or the sidier roy(red soldiers) fall in with us. In the woody cleughs yonder they are thickas blackcocks in August," cried the Major impatiently.
We pushed into the swirling waters and were presently running free,sending the spurling spray flying on both sides of the boat. The wind cameon to blow pretty hard and the leaky boat began to fill, so that we werehard put to it to keep from sinking. The three brothers were quite used tomaking the trip in foul weather, but on the Prince's account were now muchdistressed. To show his contempt for danger, the royal wanderer sang alively Erse song. The Macleods landed us at Glam, and led the way to awretched hovel recently erected by some shepherds. Here we dined onbroiled kid, butter, cream, and oaten bread.
I slept round the clock, and awoke once more a sound man to see the Princeroasting the heart of the kid on an iron spit. Throughout the day weplayed with a greasy pack of cards to pass the time. About sundown Creaghjoined us, Macdonald having stayed on Skye to keep watch on any suspiciousactivity of the clan militia or the dragoons. Raasay's clansmen,ostensibly engaged in fishing, dotted the shore of the little island togive warning of the approach of any boats. To make our leader's safetymore certain, the two proscribed brothers took turns with Creagh and me indoing sentinel duty at the end of the path leading to the sheep hut.
At the desire of the Prince--and how much more at mine!--we ventured up tothe great house that night to meet the ladies, extraordinary precautionshaving been taken by Raasay to p
revent the possibility of any surprise.Indeed, so long as the Prince was in their care, Raasay and his brotherswere as anxious as the proverbial hen with the one chick. Doubtless theyfelt that should he be captured while on the island the reputation of thehouse would be forever blasted. And this is the most remarkable fact ofCharles Edward Stuart's romantic history; that in all the months of hiswandering, reposing confidence as he was forced to do in hundreds ofdifferent persons, many of them mere gillies and some of them littlebetter than freebooters, it never seems to have occurred to one of theseshag-headed Gaels to earn an immense fortune by giving him up.
My heart beat a tattoo against my ribs as I followed the Prince and Raasayto the drawing-room where his sister and Miss Macdonald awaited us. Eightmonths had passed since last I had seen my love; eight months of battle,of hairbreadth escapes, and of hardships scarce to be conceived. She toohad endured much in that time. Scarce a house in Raasay but had been razedby the enemy because her brothers and their following had been "out" withus. I was to discover whether her liking for me had outlived the turmoilsof "the '45," or had been but a girlish fancy.
My glance flashed past Miss Flora Macdonald and found Aileen on theinstant. For a hundredth part of a second our eyes met before she fell tomaking her devoirs to the Young Chevalier, and after that I did not needto be told that my little friend was still staunch and leal. I couldafford to wait my turn with composure, content to watch with long-starvedeyes the delicacy and beauty of this sweet wild rose I coveted. Sure, herswas a charm that custom staled not nor longer acquaintance made lessalluring. Every mood had its own characteristic fascination, and are notthe humours of a woman numberless? She had always a charming note ofunconventional freshness, a childlike _naivete_ of immaturity andunsophistication at times, even a certain girlish shy austerity that hadfor me a touch of saintliness. But there-- Why expatiate? A lover'smidsummer madness, you will say!
My turn at last! The little brown hand pressed mine firmly for an instant,the warm blue eyes met mine full and true, the pulse in the soft-throatedneck beat to a recognition of my presence. I found time to again admirethe light poise of the little head carried with such fine spirit, themusic of the broken English speech in this vibrant Highland voice.
"Welcome-- Welcome to Raasay, my friend!" Then her eyes falling on thesatin cockade so faded and so torn, there came a tremulous little catch toher voice, a fine light to her eyes. "It iss the good tale that mybrothers have been telling me of Kenneth Montagu's brave devotion to hissfriends, but I wass not needing to hear the story from them. I will bethinking that I knew it all already," she said, a little timidly.
I bowed low over her hand and kissed it. "My friends make much of nothing.Their fine courage reads their own spirit reflected in the eyes ofothers."
"Oh, then I will have heard the story wrong. It would be Donald who wentback to Drummossie Moor after you when you were wounded?"
"Could a friend do less?"
"Or more?"
"He would have done as much for me. My plain duty!" I said, shrugging,anxious to be done with the subject.
She looked at me with sparkling eyes, laughing at my discomposure, in ahalf impatience of my stolid English phlegm.
"Oh, you men! You go to your death for a friend, and if by a miracle youescape: 'Pooh! 'Twas nothing whatever. Gin it rain to-morrow, I think'twill be foul,' you say, and expect to turn it off so."
I took the opening like a fox.
"Faith, I hope it will not rain to-morrow," I said. "I have to keep watchoutside. Does the sun never shine in Raasay, Aileen?"
"Whiles," she answered, laughing. "And are all Englishmen so shy of theirvirtues?"
Tony Creagh coming up at that moment, she referred the question to him.
"Sure, I can't say," he answered unsmilingly. "'Fraid I'm out of court.Never knew an Englishman to have any."
"Can't you spare them one at the least?" Aileen implored, gaily.
He looked at her, then at me, a twinkle in his merry Irish eyes.
"Ecod then, I concede them one! They're good sportsmen. They follow thegame until they've bagged it."
We two flushed in concert, but the point of her wit touched Creagh on the_riposte_.
"The men of the nation being disposed of in such cavalier fashion, whatshall we say of the ladies, sir?" she asked demurely.
"That they are second only to the incomparable maidens of the North," heanswered, kissing her hand in his extravagant Celtic way.
"But I will not be fubbed off with your Irish blarney. The English ladies,Mr. Creagh?" she merrily demanded.
"Come, Tony, you renegade! Have I not heard you toast a score of times thebeauties of London?" said I, coming up with the heavy artillery.
"Never, I vow. Sure I always thought Edinburgh a finer city--not so dirtyand, pink me, a vast deal more interesting. Now London is built----"
"On the Thames. So it is," I interrupted dryly. "And--to get back to thesubject under discussion--the pink and white beauties of London are builtto take the eye and ensnare the heart of roving Irishmen. Confess!"
"Or be forever shamed as recreant knight," cried Aileen, her blue eyesbubbling with laughter.
Tony unbuckled his sword and offered it her. "If I yield 'tis not tonumbers but to beauty. Is my confession to be in the general or theparticular, Miss Macleod?"
"Oh, in the particular! 'Twill be the mair interesting."
"Faith then, though it be high treason to say so of one lady beforeanother, Tony Creagh's scalp dangles at the belt of the most bewitchinglittle charmer in Christendom."
"Her name?"
"Mistress Antoinette Westerleigh, London's reigning toast."
Aileen clapped her hands in approving glee.
"And did you ever tell her?"
"A score of times. Faith, 'twas my rule to propose every second time I sawher and once in between."
"And she----?"
"Laughed at me; played shill-I-shall-I with my devotion; vowed she wouldnot marry me till I had been killed in the wars to prove I was a hero;smiled on me one minute and scorned me the next."
"And you love her still?"
"The sun rises in 'Toinette's eyes; when she frowns the day is vile."
"Despite her whims and arrogances?"
"Sure for me my queen can do no wrong. 'Tis her right to laugh and mock atme so only she enjoy it."
Aileen stole one shy, quick, furtive look at me. It seemed to questionwhether her lover was such a pattern of meek obedience.
"And you never falter? There iss no other woman for you?"
"Saving your presence, there is no other woman in the world?"
Her eyes glistened.
"Kneel down, sir," she commanded.
Tony dropped to a knee. She touched him lightly on the shoulder with hissword.
"In love's name I dub you worthy knight. Be bold, be loyal, be fortunate.Arise, Sir Anthony Creagh, knight of the order of Cupid!"
We three had wandered away together into an alcove, else, 'tis almostneedless to say, our daffing had not been so free. Now Malcolm joined uswith a paper in his hand. He spoke to me, smiling yet troubled too.
"More labours, O my Theseus! More Minotaurs to slay! More labyrinths tothread!"
"And what may be these labours now?" I asked.
"Captain Donald Roy sends for you. He reports unusual activity among theclan militia and the redcoats on Skye. A brig landed men and officersthere yesterday. And what for will they be coming?"
"I think the reason is very plain, Major Macleod," said Tony blithely.
"I'm jalousing (suspecting) so mysel'. They will be for the taking of awheen puir callants (lads) that are jinking (hiding) in the hill birken(scrub). But here iss the point that must be learned: do they ken that thePrince iss on the islands?"
Creagh sprang to his feet from the chair in which he had been lazying."The devil's in it! Why should Montagu go? Why not I?"
"Because you can't talk the Gaelic, Creagh. You're barred," I told himtriumphantly. r />
"Would you be sending our guest on such an errand of danger, Malcolm?"asked Aileen in a low voice.
"Not I, but Fegs! I will never say the word to hinder if he volunteers.'Tis in the service of the Prince. The rest of us are kent (known) men andcanna gang."
Grouped behind Malcolm were now gathered the Prince, Raasay, and MissFlora. To me as a focus came all eyes. I got to my feet in merry humour.
"Ma foi! Ulysses as a wanderer is not to be compared with me. When do Iset out, Major?"
"At skreigh-o'-day (daybreak). And the sooner you seek your sleep thebetter. Best say good-night to the lassies, for you'll need be wide awakethe morn twa-three hours ere sun-up. Don't let the redcoats wile (lure)you into any of their traps, lad. You maunna lose your head or----"
"----Or I'll lose my head," I answered, drolling. "I take you, Major; but,my word for it, I have not, played hide-and-go-seek six months among yourHighland lochs and bens to dance on air at the last."
The Prince drew me aside. "This will not be forgotten when our day ofpower comes, Montagu. I expected no less of your father's son." Then headded with a smile: "And when Ulysses rests safe from his wanderings atlast I trust he will find his Penelope waiting for him with a trueheart."
Without more ado I bade Miss Macdonald and Aileen good-bye, but as I leftthe room I cast a last look back over my shoulder and methought that thelissome figure of my love yearned forward toward me tenderly andgraciously.