by R. W. Hughes
The English frigate was not out at sea as had been expected but anchored in the centre of the channel leading to the port of Inverness. The old captain had judged his arrival to perfection. He would sail in to the port of Inverness on the incoming tide just as it was going dusk, thus avoiding the English boats patrolling farther out at sea. Not realising, of course, that the patrol ship had changed its routine and anchored in the estuary. The crew meanwhile were desperately changing the angle of the sail as the captain bellowed instructions and tried to catch the fluctuating breeze and change direction of the boat, fighting the current that was taking his boat towards the anchored English war ship. Slowly, ever so slowly the old boat turned, and started to pull out of the estuary.
‘Will you do it, Captain!’ George asked as he watched the gap between the two boats slowly begin to widen.
‘Aye! But only if the wind holds! Pray for the wind to hold,’ came back the desperate shout from the captain to George’s question.
‘They’re lowering a longboat.’ The shout from one of the crew in the rigging sent both George and Douglas rushing to the rail at the stern of the boat. In the fading light, they could just make out a large rowing boat being lowered from the side of the frigate.
‘They intend to catch and board us,’ shouted Douglas, as the longboat left the side of its mother ship and eight oars started to propel it quickly after the slow- moving animal transporter.
‘They have another boat lowered.’ The shout came from another member of the crew perched in the rigging. George looked at the captain, who was looking at the sail and then back at the longboat and then out to sea.
‘It will be touch and go, but if the wind holds, I think we have the edge; we will be out of the estuary and in rough water in several minutes, once there we will ride the waves better than their longboat. There is no problem at the moment, as we are out of range of their muskets.’
There was a splintering of wood followed by a crack of a musket as a ball from a weapon fired from the long boat penetrated the mast near to Douglas’s head, which caused both Douglas and George to quickly take cover behind some nearby bags of animal feed stacked on the deck.
‘I think you misjudged the distance, Captain,’ shouted George speaking from behind the sacks.
‘Blast! And a curse of the pox on their sons,’ shouted the captain, leaving the safety of the thick mast where he had thrown himself, and joined the two Highlanders behind the feed sacks. ‘They have one of those dammed muskets with a rifled barrel.’
Both George and Douglas looked at one another and grimaced.
‘I have heard of this new invention of the modified barrel that has given the musket greater accuracy and a longer range,’ George said. ‘It was developed by a German gunsmith, but I was not aware it was being distributed to the government forces.’
‘Your assumptions are correct my friend,’ replied the captain, turning to face George. ‘But some of the officers of the British armed forces have purchased these weapons privately.’
‘You are indeed a wealth of knowledge, Captain,’ volunteered Douglas.
‘It is surprising what scraps of information you hear in the inns around the dockside,’ replied the captain with a wry smile.
Douglas drew his pistol and cocked the hammer, then crawled to the stern and crouched behind a thick timber support. ‘I would prefer it, sir; if you did not return the Marine’s fire!’ The captain’s voice contained a hint of panic.
‘But they are shooting at your ship, Captain. Do you not have the right to defend yourself?’ replied George having now moved forward and was crouching besides his friend.
‘If your companion is lucky to hit one of the sailors or a Marine, charges would be laid against me by the English authorities. You two gentlemen could be long gone. But it would be an excuse at the first opportunity for them to confiscate my ship, and throw me in irons and my crew would be Shanghaied into the English Navy. As it is at the moment, I am just refusing to stop. It is a common occurrence with the small coastal craft in this area. If Inverness was under the English Army or Whig supporters, I would have a naval escort into the harbour, especially with our cargo of fresh meat. My next load may well be carrying goods and supplies for the English supporters or their army.’
Douglas closed the cap on his pistol and lowered the hammer then replaced the weapon in his belt. ‘They are pulling the Man-of-War around, Captain.’ The shout came from a member of the crew still in the rigging. ‘The second longboat is pulling the ship around; they are trying to bring their stern guns to bear,’ explained the captain’s mate to the two bemused Highlanders as he joined them at the stern of the boat.
The captain meanwhile was at the wheel of the small ship attempting to coach an extra half knot from his sluggish vessel. The English longboat, after initially making good headway, was struggling as it came in contact with the larger waves, as the captain had predicted.
Fortunately, the offshore wind was holding, and after several more shots from the long boat which sent those on deck again diving for cover, and with a half-hearted shout for them to lower their sails, the marines turned about heading back in the direction of the now nearly invisible anchored Man-of-War. This action was followed by the jeers and cat calls of George, Douglas the captain and the small crew of the converted cargo ship, and this provoked another shot from the Marine with the rifled musket in the longboat sending everyone on deck again diving for cover.
They had no sooner reappeared feeling safe after several minutes of inactivity from the now invisible longboat, when they were again diving back to their shelter as the loud boom of one of the stern guns of the frigate fired its charge. A shot whistled over the vessel and landed with a plume of water twenty yards in front of the old ship.
‘They missed us,’ shouted Douglas stating the obvious.
‘There’s another one to come yet my friend,’ shouted the captain. ‘There’s two cannons on the stern of that damn ship, that first shot was to find the range, the second has yet to arrive.’
The captain had no sooner finished speaking when a second boom shattered the silence. The ship went quite as everyone on board held their breath waiting for the heavy iron ball to make an appearance. There was a swoosh and a plume of water cascaded on the deck from a near miss, as the cannonball from the warship landed with a great splash in the sea several yards to the side of the boat.
‘Have they finished now, Captain?’ shouted George. ‘Was that their last fling?’
‘They are an experienced gun crew, and we are still in their range, so they could still load and discharge two more rounds even though they would be firing blind. It’s going dark and the sea mist is coming in so they have several options. They can fire their shot at the same direction as the last, or if they think I have steered to the port or starboard, they will adjust accordingly.’
‘What will you do captain!’ shouted Douglas.
‘I will keep on the same course and hope that King Neptune does not yet deprive me of the source of me earning my livelihood.’ Ironically, several minutes passed without any further response from the frigate. ‘They seem to have given up the chase. I think I can safely say we are safe to continue our journey.’ The captain had no sooner finished his sentence than another boom shattered the silence coming from the direction of the now invisible Man-of-War. Several seconds later a hole appeared in the main sail, just several feet from the wooden mast, and caused another plume of water as the cannon ball landed twenty feet in front of the ship. ‘That was close,’ exclaimed the captain. ‘If that shot had hit the mast we would have been in serious trouble.’ There were several more minutes of obvious anxiety by both the crew and the two Highlanders before they slowly relaxed as the sea mist enveloped their vessel and no further cannon fire came from the anchored British ship.
George was relived but also greatly disappointed. He had built up his hopes of seeing his
beloved Fiona, but the English Navy’s unseemly intervention had dashed those plans. He was deeply concerned for her welfare; rumours had reached even the far-flung areas of the Highlands of the apparent breakdown of law and order in Inverness since the forces supporting Prince Charlie had taken over the city.
Gangs of layabouts were reportedly roaming the city swelled by forces that had been left behind by the Prince’s army insulting and abusing the residents. He had hoped to see for himself if this was the case, or if it was just adverse propaganda spread by Whig supporters of the Crown.
Douglas had just joined the captain and George after attempting to feed and water the cattle with very little success due to the confined space in which the animals were penned. ‘The next place where we can unload your cattle is the port of Banff or further down the coast there is the city of Aberdeen.’ The captain was discussing with George the options left open to him for unloading the livestock, who were now getting more and more agitated by the hour, having been kept in cramped and extremely crowded conditions for nearly three days, with little or no food or water.
‘I would prefer Aberdeen, Captain Paterson. I know it is further, and the animals are suffering intolerably, but I also have to consider the welfare of the people who depend on me obtaining a good price for their cattle so as to see them through the coming winter. And I know Aberdeen well.’
‘Then Aberdeen it is, young sir, and let us hope it is still under the influence of the Whig Clan Forbes, that way we will avoid the English Navy. But if these long-horned cattle of yours tear this ship to pieces in the process, be it on your head.’
The captain was not happy with the extra time to be spent at sea with his unstable cargo, but he had two well-armed and determined men in front of him; he was not prepared to argue his case with them at the present time.
The only vessels they encountered during their extended voyage were small cargo boats like themselves hugging the coast, one of the crew spotted a large three- master, but that was far out to sea and soon disappeared from view.
The ship entered the harbour at Aberdeen without mishap and without any sign of the English Navy, much to the relief of George, but no more so than Captain Paterson who could not wait to unload the stinking very troublesome cargo off his ship. The high price reached at the auction of the Highland cattle in the market of Aberdeen reflected the shortage of fresh meat reaching the city, and this was due largely to the unstable conditions in the country and the reluctance of outlying communities to risk transporting overland their livestock. This was understandable as they were, in many cases, their only source of livelihood and income for the year. George too was relieved his gamble had paid off, and it more than covered the extra transport costs charged by Captain Paterson. The bonus was the several small barrels of the illicit whisky, which he had unloaded and placed in the safekeeping of George’s uncle’s Aberdeen contacts.
As soon as he had deposited the monies from the cattle auction and sale of the whisky with his uncle’s agent, he borrowed pen and paper from the man and set about writing a letter. His near escape with the British frigate and the long periods on their journey to Aberdeen, had heightened his feelings for this young woman, and he obtained a promise from the agent to deliver in person a letter addressed to Fiona, which had taken him many hours of soul searching to write,
Even though they had corresponded by letter while he was in Georgia through their mutual contact, he had never had the courage until now to put into words his true feelings. . The agent who knew the doctor his wife and daughter had informed George that he would do as was requested, and as far as he was aware the young lady was still living with her parents.
In the contents of the letter he told of his deep feelings for her, only circumstances beyond his control had prevented him saying these words to her in person. But at the first opportunity that arose, he would rectify that situation.
Feeling much relieved after having been forced into the situation of deciding with regards to sounding his feelings, as in normal circumstances he would not have had the nerve to be so forward and write such a letter.
He then went in search of some of his friends and old colleagues, whose opinions he knew would be first-hand, realistic, and considered. He needed to know what the present situation was and the amount of support that Prince Charles had gathered. But mainly he wanted to know the general feeling of the population in that part of the country towards the Prince and his followers, before he and Douglas continued following the Jacobite Scottish army, which had now invaded England. But whatever the circumstances, he would continue his quest to try and find the group of Macleods that the young Morgan lad and several of the Clan MacKay had joined up with. He then returned to their accommodation, close to the port and which had been recommended by Captain Paterson who was also staying there.
He had purchased two pairs of plain trews, shoes, jackets and heavy over jackets. Douglas was reluctant to disperse with his kilt and Highland dress having never before worn the clothes favoured by the people of the Lowlands, but common sense eventually prevailed. And he was happier when he produced a large canvas holdall to contain their Highland clothes. Even though he had bought the largest size available, the new clothes were still an exceptional tight fit for his large friend.
In appearance, both men looked like two ordinary travellers, and if challenged, they hoped to pass themselves off as cattle dealers, as neither would be able to hide or disguise their broad Highland brogue.
Captain Paterson had promised he would make enquiries to see if there were any ships sailing further down the coast and if transport in any of these vessels would be to the advantage for the two friends.
‘George!’
George turned at the sound of his name, as both men had just left the inn it was Captain Paterson that had shouted his name.
‘I had difficulty recognising you both!’ the captain exclaimed as he observed the two well-dressed men standing in front of him, with their close-cropped hair and clean shaven faces. He did not comment how different they looked from the wild looking pair he had unloaded with their cattle. From past experience, he knew how touchy and quick to take offence these Highland men could be.
‘There is a small transport ship leaving on the tide for Berwick-upon-Tweed. It is called the Dolphin and I have spoken to the owner, a Captain Barnes; he will transport you to that port. From there it will be possible to hire a shallow vessel to take you up the river. I have never travelled those waters myself, but I believe it is possibly to reach as far as the ford at Coldstream.’
The names meant little to Douglas, but to George if they could reach the town of Coldstream, they were well into their journey and over the border into England without the dangers of having to travel overland. He was pleased, and as they collected their few belongings from their room at the inn he reflected on their journey.
He had not expected the captain to bother himself with enquiring on their behalf. But! He had paid the man in full on receipt of the money from the sale of the cattle, not arguing about the extra charges. This had surprised, and obviously left a good impression on the man.
On arrival at the Aberdeen docks they quickly found the small coastal transporter that was loading the last of its cargo of great bales of fleeces destined for the north of England.
Attempts to trade still go on, he mused, even during so much strife and civil unrest that had beset the country.
The captain of this boat which was about the same size of Captain Paterson’s vessel insisted on payment for the journey in advance. They were not surprised on boarding the ship to find the conditions were just as spartan as the converted animal transporter of Captain Paterson’s vessel. A small corner of a covered section of the deck that offered little shelter if the weather turned rough was allocated to them and another traveller, which made them glad they had retained their heavy woollen shawl. These they quickly withdrew from their travelling
bags and wrapped around themselves as the boat left the shelter of the port, and they felt the cold wind blowing in from the sea, cutting through their new much thinner city clothes.
‘The feelings in Aberdeen are very mixed,’ said George as he related to Douglas the views of his friends in the city. ‘Even those who support the Crown do so with great reluctance. They feel insulted by the statements from the English king’s wife, I quote, “Of turning Scotland into her private hunting estate.” The English Parliament obviously does not understand, or want to understand, the problems that beset Scotland. My friends feel it suits the English that Scotland is in a state of civil war with clan fighting clan. They feel we will emerge a much weaker country than when the troubles began, which will suite the ambitious leaders in the mercenary English Army and its Parliament.’ He felt he was speaking aloud his own thoughts, and that Douglas did not understand the full depth and the serious implications of the situation, that Scotland’s future as an independent nation was in grave jeopardy.
The journey down the coast was indeed testing for the two Highlanders; they were not strangers to sailing boats but their experience was in shallow boats fishing off the coast of Tongue and Durness and never out of sight of land. These were no grounding for the experience they suffered in the small cargo boat, as the weather became increasingly wilder. The waves breaking over the low sides of the boat, the heavy spray and torrential rain fighting each other to keep them constantly soaked to the skin in their small corner of the deck. They were not unfamiliar with severe weather having been caught in storms many times in the Highlands, but there they could usually find some form of shelter, be it an overhanging rock or a small cave to offer some form of protection, but not on the exposed deck of this boat. He had never felt so wretched or cold; the rivulets of sea and rain water alternatively found gaps in his over clothes and soaked into his already saturated underwear. His stomach ached with the constant heaving of being sick, and the area allocated to them offered little shelter from the driving rain..