by Ken Busato
We finished up what little work was left and made our way back to the house for dinner. The sky started to grey a little to the south with large rain clouds ready to burst. The wind started to pick up a little more as well. With the clouds and wind came a dampness that covered the land like a giant wave. Sometimes, after a hard day of work with Papa, I like to stand as straight as possible, close my eyes, and feel the cool breeze swirl around my head. I try to shut out everything: the arguments my parents have, the pain I see my mother in, the silliness of my little brother… the wind can help you forget.
As we entered the croft, we were met with the smell of dinner cooking over the fire. Mother, as tired as she is, would never stop working completely. Although her movements are slow, she is a proud woman. Father might be the head of the household, but she is definitely the courageous heart.
“Ah Fiona, is that mutton broth with kale I smell? You are a marvel in the kitchen. Here we have to save every penny, yet you find a way to make this house smell so wonderful.”
“So, it looks like an extra bowl needs to be laid out for another hungry mouth?”
“It’s so good to see you too sister,” said Willie with a sly grin. “I find it funny how John says the nicest things when he’s already married. I mean, yes the place smells great, but after all, the smells from the barn can be just as nice. Why don’t you come over here and take a long sniff?”
“I’ll come over there young William Fraser, but only to hit you over the head with my wooden spoon!” A silence came upon us all for a moment after this heated exchange, yet it only took a second for Mama, Willie, and Papa to start laughing. Although mother would have liked to know earlier about company coming for dinner, she was more concerned there would not be enough for everyone. Her pride was showing through in her anger. Willie has a special place in her heart.
After a hard day of work, there is nothing better than a nice warm broth with onions, mutton, and kale. Poor Liam finished too fast. He wears hunger like a second skin. When Mama was not looking, I gave him one of the two little pieces of meat I had in my broth. Papa takes his time, making every little mouthful last as long as possible. He’s so slow when he eats, as if every bite might be his last.
Once everyone was finished, I got up to clear the dishes. Mama put on the kettle to make some tea, while Papa and Willie pulled out their pipes and tobacco bags. Soon, the smell of dinner was replaced by the smell of pipe smoke.
“Papa,” Liam said hopefully, “Today you talked about Uncle Donnan fighting at Culloden. You were going to talk about what happened to him fighting for England, but then Willie came and you stopped. Tell us what happened?”
“I don’t think it can hurt to continue the story a little bit before the two of you go up to bed.” Papa started to settle into his chair, while Liam got up to get as close as he could.
“You know,” Papa started, “It was not as if Donnan wanted to make this his fight. He had no love for the British and what they were doing. But the choice was between rotting in a British prison and fighting for your enemy. Not much of a choice at all really. Although I have no love for the French, we Scottish have more in common with them who speak a completely different language than the British who at every turn continue to take that which does not belong to them…”
“John,” Mother said quietly.
“Oh, right. Well, it was not possible for Donnan to hang back, since then he would feel the steel of a British bayonet at his backside, so he had to follow all orders, even though some of the things he was asked to do were terrible.”
“What was he asked to do?” said Liam impatiently.
“All that the British commander James Wolfe wanted to do was to break the walls of a far off city called Quebec, the most important city for the French across the ocean. But he was having difficulty getting the job done. From what Donnan described, the city is built like a fortress, high up on a hill. The British were stationed across the river, and they gave the French hell. They broke Quebec’s walls, but they could not break the people’s spirit.”
“Around the middle of the summer of 1759, the General tried to invade the city a little upstream, and he was met with fierce resistance. The invaders failed to take the shore, and many men were slaughtered. I thank God your great uncle was not a part of that first group, for surely he would not have survived. Donnan spent his time with a regiment of Highlanders whose job it was to patrol the south shore of the river.”
“The General certainly felt disgrace for the failed attempt to take the north shore, so, to make up for this loss, he ordered all fields, farms, homes along the south shore burned. He brought the fires of Hell to that country. Donnan said Canada was a delightful place, with windmills, watermills, churches, and farmhouses on all sides. The land was not unlike what we have here, but it did not take long for all the land miles up and down the river to burn. Under the command of the butcher Colonel Murray, Donnan was ordered to destroy everything in his path. Thankfully, the people had long since left the area for safer places away from Quebec, but he was ordered to kill any French if he found them hiding along the shore.”
“Did Donnan find anyone along the shore?” I asked.
Papa thought long and hard about this question before speaking, and even then it seemed as if he did not want to answer at all. “There are some things we should not talk about here Molly.”
“But Papa,” I pleaded. “Surely you can tell the story gently. Look at some of the things happening to us now. You have always said Donnan was one of the great Frasers, a true hero of the family. Was he a hero at Quebec?”
“Go on,” said Willie. “Molly is right. She needs to know how heroic a man Uncle Donnan is, and how brutal the British can act.”
“Well,” said Papa, “At times the true mark of the hero is not what he does on the battlefield. It is not about trying to take life, but trying to save life, especially the lives of the innocent. During Wolfe’s wasting of the countryside, Donnan was asked to burn all. If he saw any French, he was ordered to kill them if they tried to escape. Normally, villages were empty. No man, woman, or child in their right mind would stay there. And yet there was one child who was not able to leave, a child that stayed behind.”
“There was a small chapel about 20 miles up the river or so. Before burning down any building, the men were ordered to go in and search for French. It all seemed clear, and yet for a brief moment, Donnan could hear faint whispers and muffled cries. He was alone in the chapel, and as he investigated further, he found a hidden wall, and behind it, a young French girl no older than four or five. Beside her, on the floor, lay another child, much younger. The child was still, and at first glance, Donnan thought it might be a doll the little girl used to play with, but the smell of death soon met his nose, and he knew that what he stumbled upon was not a simple lost girl, but a scene of true horror and tragedy.”
Poor little Liam started to squirm in his seat. This was not the kind of story Papa would normally tell on a quiet night in the croft. Mama looked over with a worried eye, but she kept her mouth close. Papa continued.
“Your Great Uncle had his orders, but how can you follow orders when faced with something so brutal. The young girl was terribly frightened, but he tried to calm her down as best he could. He knew one or two words of French, and this seemed to help only a little. He knew his orders were to sweep through the chapel and then burn it to the ground, but what to do with this little girl? He made a motion for her to get up and come with him which I think she was more than willing to do, but not without the little baby who must have been her brother. No amount of pleading on his part was going to separate this girl from her dead sibling.”
“I’m sorry Molly, I’m sorry Liam, but this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Your uncle, under the cover of darkness, smuggled the girl out of the chapel and away to a forested area where she could make an escape from the oncoming troops and rain of fire. All of God’s creatures
deserve a Christian burial, and although your uncle was no minister, he did his best to help the young girl bury her brother before he sent her on her way. When asked by his commanding officer where he had gotten to, Donnan replied he thought he saw movement in the forest and went to investigate. Of the story of the girl, however, he could tell no one about for fear of being shot as a traitor. He used to say he would spend many a drunken night thinking about that girl.”
“What do you think happened to her Papa?” asked Liam.
“I’m sure she made it safely back to her people. Courage in this life does not go unrewarded Liam, always remember that. Your uncle did a brave thing. He risked his life to save someone who may have been easily killed if discovered by another. Always remember you have the same blood in your veins too. It may not be the easiest thing to do, but you must be like your Great Uncle Donnan Fraser, and always stand up for what is right!”
Papa got up from his chair and pulled out the bottle of scotch. It would get used quite a bit this evening.
“Children, it’s time you made your way up to the loft,” Mama said quietly. “It’s been a long day, and your father and uncle have some important matters to discuss.”
“But Mama,” I pleaded.
“There’s no amount of begging that will get me to change my mind Molly. Make sure your brother is ready, and then it’s time for bed.”
Liam and I got ready for bed and made our way up the small ladder. Liam, as always, was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, but I could not sleep so easily. Although the adults were talking in whispers, it was not too difficult to make out what they were saying…
“… Do you understand what I’m telling you John?” said Willie as quietly as he could. “There’s nothing anyone has done so far to stop what’s coming; at least nothing yet has stopped those sheep herding bastards. I will not let them take the house we grew up in John, the house the family has lived in for generations. I may not carry a musket, but there are many things I can do with a club and knife.”
“Do you hear yourself Willie? You’re talking about a fight you can’t win, you know that?”
“What do you suggest then brother? Just let them come and give them the keys to the castle?”
“Don’t make fun Willie, or you’ll get a good swift boot to your behind.”
“Alright John, I understand, but you know what has been happening across the countryside. Families are given a short time to gather only the things that can be carried, and then they are sent away with no final place to go. Sure, some men have stood up to the herders, but they have hired thugs to make sure people leave without incident.”
“Aye, I’ve heard it.”
“Some stories have them coming in the middle of the night, like a pack of thieves to take whatever they want. John, you need to be ready for anything that might happen.”
“As God is my witness, not a man will touch my family. I will fight for this house, this land, but even more important, I will fight for this family. Bad goes the man who decides to push my family out of the way for his own selfish gain.” I heard Willie and Papa drink and slam their glasses on the table. I did not hear mother talk the entire time, but I know she is just as angry, and my father’s words are also hers. Sleep started to come over me. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep, yet dreams of a beautiful Highland would not visit me this night.