Cautiously Andrew nodded.
"And now the matter is urgent, the need great. Dundee has gathered a large clan army in the Highlands, ever growing, with many of the chiefs flocking to his banner. Mackay, chasing after him, prevented him from having his assembly at Stirling. And Mar, in Stirling Castle, wisely saw the way the wind blew and would not surrender to Craham. He went to his own house of Dudhope, at Dundee, to raise men from that city, and Balcarres, his lieutenant, went to raise Fife. Mackay sent cavalry after both, and they captured Balcarres at his own house; but Dundee escaped to the Highlands. Now he has raised James's standard in Lochaber. Keppoch, Glengarry, Locheil, Ardsheil, Glengyle and others of their like have flocked to him. He has marched eastwards from Glen Roy with over two thousand broad-swords and is raising more all the while. He says that James is sending over a force from Ireland, and that they will have Scotland out of William's hands before the summer is out. So - the thing is serious and there is no time to lose. Mackay has some fifteen hundred horse and will have twice that number of foot, when they arrive. That is all. Dundee could raise three times as many Hielantmen in a month."
Still Andrew made no comment.
"We therefore have little time to raise the necessary militia," Home went on. "And no money to hire regular troops from elsewhere. So we must act swiftly."
"However swiftly you act, Patrick, you will not train your new militia to face Highland broad-swords in a month or so."
"I know it. But if at least they can be mustered, armed and part-trained, they can be used to garrison cities, ports, castles and the like, releasing regular troops for Mackay. It is the best that I can do."
"You can do . . . ?"
"Yes. I have been appointed, in William's name, commander of all Militia in Scotland."
"Good Lord!" Andrew stared, perhaps not very graciously. "But you, you . .. ?" He left the rest unsaid.
The other nodded. Home had fairly minimal military experience. "I know what you think. I myself questioned their choice. But we on William's side have few experienced soldiers. At least in Scotland. For long, all the soldiering has been done by Charles's and James's men. So - I come to you for help, Andrew."
His friend shook his head, unhappily. "Patrick, you cannot expect me to do this. To become a soldier again, for William who has spurned me. Sakes, man - I am an outlaw still! A felon, unpardoned . . ."
"Here is the way to change all that. Aid in this and you change your entire position. You were Master of Horse to Monmouth, a colonel against the Turks, one of William's staff. If any man could make this militia project succeed, it is you. And win your way back into William's favour, have all here beholden to you."
"No - I do not turn my coat so readily as that!"
"It is not turning your coat, man. You have always been against James and for William. It is but proving your loyalty."
"I could call it otherwise! Such as kissing the hand that struck me! No, I will not go soldiering for William while he sets his face against me."
"Then do it for the nation, for Scotland. You do not want James back, tyrannising over us? You would be one of the first to suffer."
"If it comes to that, I will draw my sword, yes. Not before."
"Andrew - could you not consider this?" Margaret asked, all but pleaded. "I do not want you to go fighting, God knows. But could you not go some way with it? Aid in the matter? Somehow you must improve your state . .."
"Yes, if you will not join me in arms, Andrew, at least help to raise the men, the Haddingtonshire militia. If you were commissioner for the shire, as you were and should be, you would be having to do this. Belhaven, your friend, has agreed to be its colonel."
"He has? But he has no experience as a soldier. Never drawn sword nor fired a shot!"
"No - but you could guide him. Help your country, help your friend - aye and help me also. For this is a heavy task laid on me. Who have little enough experience of war my own self. I have agreed to it, for the need is great. And my own position none too secure, with William. Now that he is King, I would be a fool to stand too much on my dignity."
"As do I?"
"I think that you might, man. And I say it as a friend."
"Do it, Andrew," Margaret urged. "For Henry and myself, also. Remember, we also suffer in all this."
He paced the floor for a turn or two. "Very well. I will aid, in some degree. In the raising and training of this county's militia. But only that. For your sake, and Johnnie's, more than for William's."
"Praise be for that, at least! It will greatly help. The common folk much respect you. Recruiting will gain by it. And training. And... it must help your own position. None can treat you as outlaw if you are working with the King's forces."
"The less said about that aspect of it, the better!"
"But I say thank God!" Margaret exclaimed. "Somehow you have got to win back to your own place, Andrew. This could be the start of it. And not only for you but for all of us . . ."
* * *
It took a little while for Andrew to adjust to his new situation, in more ways than one. Suddenly he found that he need no longer go furtively, watchful all the time, ready to make himself inconspicuous - and it had become more of a habit and frame-of-mind than he had realised. Large numbers of people had known of his presence in the country, inevitably; but the cautious had kept their distance. Now this all changed and folk were ready to greet him again, and not only in his militia activities. His reputation, exaggerated as he insisted out of all proportion, and which had hitherto marked him off as a most dangerous man, now worked the other way. He was now the sort of man the nation needed, an experienced officer and campaigner, in a cause sadly lacking in such, reputed to be of almost heroic stature. Since clearly he was working for King William, the new monarch's known displeasure could surely no longer apply. So he was safe to greet and accept.
Dramatic events on the national scene much contributed to this general attitude. The reconstituted Convention, now a full Parliament, was scarcely the source of excitement, proceedings being mainly formal and legalistic, however necessary for due constitutional launching of the new reign, all under the uninspired presidency of Lord Melville, as High Commissioner. But as the sittings went on, every other day brought tidings from the north to provide an ominous accompaniment to the proceedings. Dundee all the time was gaining in strength, quartering the Highlands from Lochaber to the Moray Firth, rousing the clans and gathering an ever-growing army, raising James's standard wherever he went and declaring that soon he would turn southwards and demonstrate who really ruled Scotland. General Mackay, although himself a Highlander, had no Highland troops, and, in that wild country, trailed far and ingloriously behind. The news from Ireland was consistently bad, with James's forces almost everywhere in the ascendant and Ulster hard-pressed. There were rumours that matters were looking so black that William himself was to go across to try to bring his father-in-law to account. All this produced a general state of agitation and apprehension in southern Scotland, in which rescuers and strong men were in great demand. Few were to be looked for in the Parliament, it seemed.
But mediocrity was not entirely on one side. In mid-June the Duke of Gordon surrendered Edinburgh Castle, on terms which allowed him and his garrison to march off unimpeded to his northern fastnesses - and the capital celebrated the non-event as though it was a mighty victory.
It was in these conditions that Andrew and Johnnie Belhaven, with Cockburn of Ormiston, went about Haddingtonshire recruiting, enrolling officers, mustering, training, commandeering arms and horses. They had little difficulty in finding men, and even horses, but arms and ammunition were a different story and adequate training scarcely possible. Inevitably the responsibility for this came to rest mainly on Andrew's shoulders, as the only man available with any real idea of what was required. He found it a frustrating business, demanding of a patience he did not possess. Yet at least it kept him fully occupied and feeling necessary, a state he had not been in for long. He made
better company at the dower-house of West Saltoun in consequence.
Six weeks or so of this and there were further developments. Sir Patrick Home arrived, to announce that the maximum number of militiamen must proceed northwards at once, however inadequately-trained, to join General Mackay in south Perthshire. When Andrew protested that it was as good as sending lambs to the slaughter, Home declared that he could not help it. He had his orders. Dundee was indeed marching southwards with a very large force of some of the toughest fighting-men in Christendom, MacDonalds, Camerons, Frasers, Macleans, Mackintoshes and the like, to join the Murrays of Atholl and Tullibardine, the Hays, the Drummonds and other Perthshire clans. Somehow they must be halted, and Mackay needed every man, however ill-prepared. It would be a tough baptism for the new militia, but they had no choice.
So two days later Andrew watched Johnnie and his other equally callow officers ride off to war at the head of an enthusiastic but painfully green squadron of the Haddingtonshire Militia, with foreboding and self-recrimination. They ought not to be going - but since they must, he ought to have been going with them, he who had persuaded many of them to join, who had taken much responsibility for their training, who at least knew something about warfare. It had been easy to say that he would not draw sword for William; and wise judgment agreed with Home that he would be better employed anyway in training more men. Nevertheless . . .
If Andrew had been less than enthusiastic about his military labours hitherto, now he threw himself into the work with a new determination and vigour, driving himself and his recruits hard. Reinforcements for the squadron would be forthcoming, and the best-trained of any of the new part-time soldiers.
In the event it was all unnecessary. On 29th July, Scotland was shaken by the news that two days previously there had been a great battle in Atholl, at the Pass of Killiecrankie - and, brilliantly handled, the Jacobite forces had won, Mackay outmanoeuvred. But in the hour of his victory, John Graham had been killed, slain by a musket-ball penetrating below his upraised sword-arm. Bonnie Dundee or Bloody Clavers was dead. And the Highland army, shattered by the loss of their renowned leader, and with no obvious successor, Balcarres still being a captive, threw away the fruits of victory in typical inter-clan rivalry, quarrelling over the booty of Mackay's captured baggage-train and then dispersing back to their glens. The beaten Mackay fled back to Stirling, to lick his wounds -then discovered, hardly able to believe his good fortune, that he was left with command of the field. The immediate danger to King William's regime was over.
At Saltoun they heard the news with mixed feelings, relief yes but regret also. John Graham had not been an easy man to associate with or to know well, something of an enigma, admirable and sinister, courageous and ruthless, good and evil - but then were not all men so, in lesser degree? But at least he was a man, of a stature rare at any time and notably so in the Scotland of the second half of the seventeenth century.
There was word of Belhaven and the Haddingtonshire squadron. They had come off lightly, scarcely distinguishing themselves but suffering few casualties. It had not been a cavalry battle, fought in the main in a deep and rocky defile where horses were of little use. So they had been kept largely in reserve until Mackay's defeated infantry began their headlong retreat, when they had been useful in covering the retiral. But by then the knowledge of Dundee's death was sapping the Highland fervour, and the abandoned baggage-train a mighty temptation, so that the rout was the less hard to stem.
Andrew Fletcher thanked God for that, at least, even if he was less wildly excited than most of Lowland Scotland appeared to be, with church-bells ringing, flags waving, singing crowds parading and cheers for King William. Surely never had a defeated general come back to such a hero's welcome as did Hugh Mackay of Scourie - symptomatic of the state of dread which had prevailed previously.
Only the more apprehensive - or more thoughtful - eyes now turned towards Ireland.
Part Four
16
Andrew Fletcher surveyed the table in his great hall at Saltoun with some satisfaction mixed with assessment and a little apprehension. As to the brilliance of the company there could be no question, nor of the power and influence represented; but as to the outcome, the success or otherwise of the evening, there was no knowing. Socially it was already a success, to be sure, a notable achievement at least, for the man who had been outlawed, condemned felon and out-of-favour with the monarch, to have assembled here in his own house such a galaxy of the leaders of the nation and the height of fashion. It represented changed days indeed for Saltoun Hall. But Andrew had invited them here for a purpose, and that might well fail. At least in one aspect of it all his satisfaction was certain; his gaze, in its regular scanning of the richly-dressed and bewigged gathering, kept ever returning to the most distant seat, at the other end of the long table, where Margaret sat, acting his hostess. Even that held its bitter-sweet flavour, of course; but the sight of her, so lovely, so graciously assured, so seemingly at home at his table, dispensing his hospitality, could not be other than a delight to that man, even though Henry sat so much closer to her than did he.
He leaned to his right, to pay heed to what his principal guest was saying-John Hay, Earl of Tweeddale, now Chancellor of Scotland no less, chief minister of the realm. At the other side, his left, William Paterson made laborious conversation with Lady Tweeddale, the Dunfriesshire farmer's son with the aunt of the Duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth. Next to them sat Margaret Belhaven and Lord President Dalrymple, now promoted Viscount Stair, with across the board his son John, now Master of Stair, Secretary of State for Scotland, and Lady Ormiston whose husband, Adam Cockburn was made a Lord of Session, indeed Lord Justice Clerk. And so on down the
table, the new rulers of Scotland and their ladies sat at ease, after an excellent repast - sipping their wine, in the mellow glow of innumerable candles. Sir Patrick Home was now Lord Polwarth and a member of the Privy Council, with a pension of £400 sterling a year, as reward for organising and commanding the militia. Even Johnnie Belhaven was a Privy Councillor and Lord Clerk Register - a more or less honorary office but carrying various privileges and perquisites.
Andrew's inner smile at it all tended to be slightly twisted, cynical. So much for choosing the right side at the right moment - no doubt the art and essence of politics. For himself, he was less agile at it, although possibly the most concerned with and interested in the theory and practice of good government of any present. He was, it seemed, still the awkward one, the odd-man-out, the unfortunate who failed to perceive when to tack before the winds of reality. So there were no titles or privy-councillorships for him. Admittedly he was Laird of Saltoun again, forfeiture cancelled at last - but it had taken almost a year after Killiecrankie for this to be conceded, and without any sort of compensation or even message from William in London. But then, to be sure, William was not much in London these days, much more often back in his own Netherlands. After his great Irish victory on the River Boyne in the summer of 1690, with James Stewart losing all and fleeing back to France, William seemed to have recovered his fondness for soldiering and now found campaigning on the Continent against Louis much more to his taste than playing at kingcraft in England. As for Scotland, he appeared to have no least interest; indeed he was reported to have declared that he wished that country a thousand miles away, with the Duke of Hamilton its king, so that he could be rid of them both.
It was February 1692.
Presently a glance and raised eyebrow from Margaret drew a nod from Andrew and she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. All rose thereafter, and amidst much bowing and pretended deprivation, their hostess led the ladies from the hall to their withdrawing-room. The men settled themselves back, refilled their glasses and lounged the more at ease. After a brief pause, Andrew spoke up.
"My lords and friends all - pleasing as is your company for its own sake, and excellent our mutual converse, I believe that we may be privileged tonight to hear of a matter which could be of
the greatest interest and profit to us all and to our whole nation, a matter, a project, which I for one will be surprised and much disappointed if this distinguished company fails to consider closely or undervalues. It will be put to us by my friend Mr. William Paterson, of whom you all will know, more especially those who had occasion to sojourn in the Low Countries in exile during the previous reign where, at Amsterdam and Rotterdam and elsewhere, he acted banker for many of us in that time of our great need, taking many a risk and loss on our behalf. My lords of Stair, Polwarth, Melville and Argyll, as well as my much humbler self, were then much beholden to Mr. Paterson. I think that we, and a great many others, will have reason to be still more so, hereafter."
There was an expectant murmur but some wary glances also.
"Before asking Mr. Paterson to speak to you," Andrew went on, "for those who may be less well acquainted with his name and fame, I should perhaps say a few words. Hailing from Skipmyre near to Dumfries, he was reared largely in England, at Bristol, that great trading-port for the Indies. Then he learned the arts of trade and commerce and went voyaging in their pursuit. Nevertheless he was never a mere merchant-adventurer, being a man of faith as well as of enterprise, so that in the West Indies and the Carolinas he brought the Gospel to many, as well as trading with great success. I mention this as indication that our friend's concern is not wholly with the profit of the purse but also with that of the soul! I suggest that this is unusual, to say the least!"
There was some exclamation at that, not all of it enthusiastic, and the wariness increased rather than diminished. Paterson kept his gaunt-featured head lowered, as though embarrassed.
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