Whisky, Wars, Riots and Murder

by Malcolm Archibald

  The principal actors in the romantic play were all local to the area. There was Donald Macdonald of Baliloch in North Uist, Donald Mackenzie of Monkstadt in Skye, and Charles Mackinnon, a fisherman who was also from Monkstadt, as well as Donald Ferguson and William Macdonald. However, there was also Robert Macdonald of Rodel in Harris and Patrick Cooper from Edinburgh. The events of the month of February 1850 affected all these men and more, but it revolved around one young woman.

  It all began when young Donald Macdonald of Baliloch had fallen in love with twenty-one-year-old Jessie Macdonald, the daughter of Macdonald of Balranald in Harris. In 1849 Donald was appointed as Lord MacDonald’s temporary factor in North Uist. He was friendly with the Balranald Macdonalds, and after a while he and Jessie decided they must become man and wife.

  Unfortunately, Jessie’s family did not agree with their daughter’s choice of suitor. They much preferred her to become attached to an Edinburgh man named Patrick Cooper, who just happened to be Lord MacDonald’s factor in Harris. Lord MacDonald was the landowner of huge tracts of the Hebrides, so his factor would be a very powerful and influential man. Cooper knew Jessie Macdonald well and was as attracted to her as Donald was. Indeed, he had also asked her to marry him, and although she had not given a positive answer, he believed she could be persuaded to accept his hand. Jessie Macdonald had said she was in great difficulty and ‘never expected the offer’. Not long after he proposed, Cooper was summoned to Portree where a friend was sick.

  The Balranald Macdonalds knew that neither Jessie nor Donald would be easy to persuade, and they expected that the two would elope despite the express wishes of Jessie’s family. However, the elopement, when it came, was still a shock for them. It was on 15 February 1850 that Jessie’s brother brought the family the news that Jessie was missing. The elopement had been well planned and well executed. Donald’s servant, Ronald Macdonald, had taken a dog cart to the lodge at Baliloch, parked outside and loaded their trunks in the back. The lovers came out arm in arm and laughing, jumped in the dog cart and ordered Ronald to mount the horse while they sat side by side and drove through the dark morning of lightning and thunder.

  Naturally, the family guessed at once what had happened. They rode from Rodel in the south of the island to Tarbert, twenty-four miles away. Donald and Jessie had fled to Lochmaddy in North Uist. They boarded a vessel named Eliza MacLeod at four in the morning, but the weather closed in and the shipmaster, Donald MacLeod, thought it too dangerous to put to sea. Donald and Jessie both wanted to go to Edinburgh to get married, but when they eventually set sail they only got as far as Loch Tarbert. The Balranald Macdonalds arrived around the same time, along with Cooper, who had dashed over from Skye, complete with great anger and two or three braces of pistols. The combined force boarded the vessel and fought Jessie back under their control.

  Village of Tarbert

  © Author’s Collection

  It was not an easy meeting. Jessie had clung to Donald and said she would die rather than part with him, and was crying as if her heart would break, nearly hysterical to remain with her sweetheart, but the family dragged her away and ordered her to forget him. She did not. Accordingly, they sent Jessie to live with her uncle John Robertson Macdonald, commissioner for the Earl of Dunmore, who lived at Rodel House at the south coast of Harris. She was well treated there. Unlike the heroines in romantic novels who were locked in their rooms, Jessie was free to roam. Her only hardship was not having Donald.

  In the meantime, the rumours about Cooper grew, including a lurid story that he had come searching for Donald at Monkstadt carrying three braces of pistols, as he wanted to kill his rival to get Jessie for himself. Jessie’s family also contacted Angus MacDiarmid, the local policeman for the south of Harris, and had him watch Rodel in case Donald should come looking for her.

  However, Donald planned to regain Jessie for himself. He was not prepared to give up after a single setback. He wanted his Jessie. He heard that Patrick Cooper was due to arrive at Rodel on the Saturday, so he determined to reclaim her before his rival came onto the scene. On the morning of Friday, 8 February 1850, he gathered a number of his friends and some of his father’s household servants and planned a swift raid over the sea to Harris to reclaim his girl. He asked Donald MacLeod to take them over to Harris in Eliza MacLeod. However, the Hebridean seas in February can be stormy, and MacLeod thought it was unsafe to venture out that night.

  According to Donald Ferguson, who took part in the raid, the object was purely to ‘get a wife for their master’s son’. However brave their intentions, the night was stormier than ever, so quite a number of the men returned to Monkstadt without venturing to sea, but others were stouter of heart. There were about a dozen men in the boat when they left North Uist shortly after eleven o’clock that night. They had one object in mind: get Jessie Macdonald away from her uncle and into the arms of her sweetheart, but some carried sticks in case Jessie’s uncle or any of his household should try to hold her against her wishes. However, Donald ordered them all to act peacefully.

  The twenty-mile crossing to the harbour at Rodel took between three and five hours, so the winter dawn was still some hours away when they disembarked and crunched ashore. Among the men were Donald Ferguson and William Macdonald from Fearn of Kilmuir, who was a sheriff officer and therefore more usually on the side of the law. The whole band took the short walk up to Rodel House, but only Donald and Donald Ferguson came to the porch at the front door. When Donald Ferguson asked the daughter of the house where Jessie was, she told him that Jessie shared a bed with her aunt, Mrs Macdonald.

  As soon as he saw the mob surrounding his house, Jessie’s uncle, Robert Macdonald, charged out of the house in his shirt and drawers, swearing loudly, and ordered them to go away. Robert Macdonald’s attitude is not surprising given the time of day and the number of men who disembarked from the boat, particularly as some were armed with sticks. He demanded to know why they had come to his house.

  A Lewis man, Donald Mackenzie, answered for them all: ‘We have come to get a wife for Monkstadt’s son.’

  Donald told Robert quite emphatically that he would not go until he got his wife, but Robert replied, ‘There is no wife of yours here,’ and grabbed hold of the collar of Donald’s shirt. However, the front door had been left open and Donald yanked himself free and pushed in, with Jessie’s Uncle Robert close behind. Donald told the rest of his party to remain at the gate and ran upstairs to where Jessie was getting ready. A few of the men followed Donald into the house and they told Robert Macdonald that they only wanted to get Jessie out. If Robert Macdonald did not interfere there would be no harm done.

  Still in his shirt, Robert Macdonald dashed for an outhouse where some of his servants lived, presumably to get help to chase away the invaders. Hard on his heels was Kenneth Macdonald, his clerk, who was also only half dressed. Kenneth Macdonald lifted a gun and threatened to shoot the invaders unless they went away.

  Mackenzie taunted him. ‘If I don’t be quiet, are you going to shoot me?’ When the clerk raised his gun Mackenzie cracked him on the side of the head with his stick and Charles Mackinnon snatched the gun.

  The clerk shouted out, ‘Murder!’

  He ran to the door of the house but Robert Macdonald had also returned and locked the door behind him.

  ‘For God’s sake, let me in,’ Kenneth Macdonald pleaded, with blood streaming down his face from where Mackenzie had thumped him. Macdonald opened the door. Then Macdonald, with his clerk, Kenneth Macdonald, and his shepherd, John Macdonald, ran upstairs to Jessie. Robert grabbed hold of his niece while the other two jumped on Donald. For a moment it seemed that the elopement would fail, but Donald struggled free, pushed open the bedroom window and called out, ‘Come on, my lads. I am a prisoner in the house.’

  Half a dozen men who had been kicking their heels on the ground floor and around the porch clattered up the stairs to help. William Macdonald, the sheriff officer, tried to avoid Robert Macdonald in case he
was recognised, but there were enough of the rescuers to do the job. They burst into the room, waving their sticks and shouting loud threats.

  Perhaps because he was outnumbered, Robert Macdonald tried to reason with the invaders, but their blood was up and they were intent on completing their mission. Robert Macdonald still tried to hold Jessie back, but Donald would have none of it. Donald faced Jessie and asked, ‘Are you my wife, Jessie?’ and she said that she was. Donald addressed Robert Macdonald and said, ‘Is marriage enough when said before you, a Justice of the Peace?’ It obviously was not. Robert Macdonald said he would not listen to such nonsense. He grabbed Jessie around the waist and again tried to drag her away, but Donald and others forced him from her.

  There were three other women in the room, Robert’s wife Mary and their daughter Ann, together with Miss Landles, the governess. All three were screaming with fear. Robert shouted above the noise and asked Jessie if she would rather stay or go: she chose the latter. Robert Macdonald then suggested she could remain until her father gave his consent. Donald said he would not wait, and Jessie laughed. She was very keen to get away before Cooper arrived.

  The majority of the men waited outside the house as lantern light glinted behind the windows, flicked off and then reappeared at different windows. The men muttered that if they got Donald out safely they could do without the woman, but after about ten minutes the window opened and Donald leaned outside.

  ‘Come on in, my lads, and take the trunks. We are ready to be off.’

  William Macdonald was one of the men who helped carry Jessie’s trunks outside, then Donald and Jessie hurried out of the house. Robert Macdonald’s gardener rushed past, as if to call for help to stop them escaping, but Ferguson grabbed him by the front of his jacket and held him secure. The rest of the Uist men carried Jessie’s trunks towards the boat, with Jessie herself coming last.

  They headed back out to sea after having been only two hours at Rodel House. As a quick hit-and-run raid it had been perfectly planned and executed, with complete success and no injuries. Donald Macdonald had reason to be proud of himself.

  The vessel put out to sea, leaving Harris astern. At first they were uncertain where to go. Some suggested heading to a small bay near Borrodale in Skye and anchoring there for the remainder of the day, either in case Jessie’s father should find a boat to follow them or until the weather moderated. One of the men in the boat, Norman MacLeod, agreed to carry a letter from Jessie to her mother. Jessie was smiling as the boat put out; she was very happy to be back with Donald. Eventually they headed east to the mainland and put ashore at Gairloch, where Donald and Jessie disembarked. From there they travelled to Edinburgh and were officially and finally married.

  Jessie’s father and uncle pressed charges against the raiders and four of them were summoned to appear at Inverness Sheriff Criminal Court. Only Donald Macdonald appeared. He pleaded not guilty to the charge of invading the dwelling house of John Robertson Macdonald and assaulting his clerk and shepherd. Donald put forward the defence that he and Jessie had been separated against their wishes and any subsequent trouble was not their fault, but blamed those who had taken away his intended wife.

  Jessie was anything but reluctant to be taken away from her uncle, and the court heard the contents of a number of letters she had written that proved without doubt her attraction to Donald. One of these letters confirmed her prior knowledge and complete approval of her rescue:

  ‘My Dearest Donald’ she wrote, ‘If the bearer of this letter meets you on your way here, you must return home. It seems that W. Macneil suspects or else has heard what we have been intending to do. As he had no opportunity of telling Papa of it, he deputed John Macdonald to do so, which he did last night, and Papa immediate wrote William to find out all he knew of the matter. I heard this from the grieve’s wife. John Macdonald told her husband of it. Now my own Donald, we must be off this night. You had better not come till half past eleven o’clock. I shall be quite ready to start with you.’

  When the letter was read out, most of the people in the court started to applaud, much to the annoyance of the sheriff. It was only when Donald Macdonald got her letter and learned that Cooper was due at Rodel the next day to persuade Jessie to alter her romantic interest that he decided to rescue Jessie.

  The jury only took ten minutes to find Donald not guilty and he returned to his wife.

  Incest

  Crimes are much the same the world over, so the Highlands had its share of sexual crime in proportion to its population. Rape and sexual assault were not unknown, but in 1836 there was one crime that caused tongues to flap throughout the region. Together with child abuse, incest may be called the secret crime. When incest occurred between brother and sister and one of the participants was a minister, then things were worse.

  It was November 1836 and Miss Kennedy was playing her piano at the manse at Logie, Inverness-shire. She had been sick for some time past but nobody, probably least of all her, knew what the matter was. However that day she collapsed. At the time her brother, Donald Kennedy, was in a neighbouring parish but a speedy horseman galloped to fetch him and he hurried to his sister’s side. The sister was taken to bed but it was soon obvious she was in great pain. A doctor was called and gave the unbelievable news that the minister’s unmarried sister was about to have a child. When she was delivered, she refused to say who the father might be.

  As she lay, subject to intense questioning and a scandal to the parish, Donald Kennedy quietly disappeared. His parishioners wondered if he was so ashamed of his sister’s behaviour that he could not face them. After all, his father had been the minister before him and Donald had only been admitted as minister two months previously.

  A week or so later, the mystery was solved. Hiding in Aberdeen, Donald Kennedy wrote a long letter to the Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, admitting that he was guilty of an incestuous relationship with his sister and he was the father of her child. In the same letter he resigned his position in the church.

  In the meantime, Miss Kennedy had fled the parish and headed west to escape censure and whatever penalties the law felt appropriate for her crime. However, she was pursued and caught, to be dragged into the jail at Dingwall, county town of Ross. After being held there for a while, a sheriff officer bundled her and a female friend into a chaise and whipped up for the road to Tain. When they arrived there, the officer left the chaise for a moment and the sister and her friend took the opportunity to flee.

  Whether their escape was deliberately engineered to forestall the intense scandal of a court appearance or not, there was no more heard of the Logie incest case.

  Murdering the Wife

  Sometimes the circuit courts were faced with a case that seemed so obvious that they had no option but to find the accused guilty, even when there was no hard evidence. Such a case occurred in Inveraray in the autumn of 1804. The accused was Duncan MacArthur from Dail in South Knapdale and the victim was his wife, Elizabeth McKinnon. Her body had been found at the Crinan Canal, with her upper body on the bank and her feet under the water in October 1803. She had been strangled.

  The evening before her body was found, McKinnon had accompanied MacArthur on a visit to Lochgilphead. She had not been seen alive since. There were no witnesses to the murder and no other evidence pointing to MacArthur, but still the jury found him guilty of murder. The judge, Lord Cullen, decided that MacArthur should be fed on bread and water until 31 October, then carried to the murder spot and hanged. His body was to be publicly dissected and anatomised.

  There was some unease that the verdict was reached purely through circumstantial evidence, so the jury was relieved when MacArthur confessed.

  Murdering the Husband and Father

  In the Inverness Circuit Court of April 1852, Sarah and James Fraser were convicted of poisoning William Fraser, an innkeeper near Tain, by arsenic. That was bad enough, but Sarah was William’s wife and James was his son. Sarah was forty years and J
ames was just seventeen. Both pleaded not guilty but there was a great deal of evidence against them. They were proved to have bought the poison, and medical evidence showed arsenic in William’s stomach. James Fraser had also said that he hoped to kill his father, which proved he had a loose tongue and little sense.

  The jury found them guilty by a majority and recommended mercy, but without saying on what grounds they wanted mercy. There was some doubt as to the sentence when a packet of poison had been sent to Edinburgh to be checked and had been pronounced sealed when it was open, but after that point of law was sorted they were sentenced to death without hope of reprieve.

  Lord Cockburn, an influential High Court judge, political reformer and author, mentioned this case in his book Circuit Journeys, and said of the murderers: ‘I never saw a couple of less amiable devils. The mother especially had a cold, hard eye and a pair of thin, resolute lips producing an expression very fit for a remorseless and steady murderess. She saw her daughter, a little girl, brought in as a witness and heard her swear that there were no rats in the house and that her father’s sufferings were very severe with a look of calm, savage ferocity which would have done no discredit to the worst woman in hell.’

  Overall, relationships were much the same in the Highlands as anywhere else. Most marriages would jog along with good days and bad, some would be tainted with discord and others were simply hell on earth. There is no doubt that Highlanders experienced the same problems as other people, and sometimes had the same violent solution.