by R. W. Hughes
They are changing the guard to coincide with low tide, he thought.
He left his position and checking his pocket watch as he passed the prison ship followed the old guard as it returned to cross the river by the stepping stones. He continued further along through that part of the town on to where the bridge crossed the river and then checked his pocket watch, before returning to his previous elevated position. From there he could also see the disturbance of the water at low tide just outside the harbour entrance where below the waves was the causeway.
If the alarm was raised at the barracks, it would take ten minutes to call out the guard, and fifteen minutes for the guard to reach the stepping stones. If they were under water, it would take ten more minutes or more to travel upriver and cross by the bridge plus ten minutes to reach the prison ship. That leaves just forty to forty- five minutes maximum to board the prison ship, deal with the soldiers, release the prisoners and make good our escape. And in that time their avenue of escape could well be blocked by the Redcoats from their barracks, and any avenue of escape by sea was blocked by the British Frigate.
He continued trying out in his mind various plans as he slowly made his way back to his lodgings, but he knew a frontal attack was out of the question. They would be cut to pieces by the scatter guns before they could even make contact with the soldiers guarding the prisoners. No, he would have to devise another subtler plan if he was to avoid the slaughter of the attackers, and what would the outcome be if he could release the prisoners? It would be obvious to the English authorities who was responsible for the attempt, and all would be classed as fugitives or rebels. The result would be the same: it would be considered an uprising. They would be hunted down and hung; the families of those involved would have their livestock and possessions removed and they would be left destitute, and with no menfolk to protect them, the surrounding clans could well take the opportunity to settle old scores. And any cry for help from the persecuted would go unanswered by the English authorities. Is this what the men locked in the prison ship wanted? Would Douglas want his clan decimated at the expense of his freedom, and would he, as appointed leader of the clan, want to be the instigator of taking an action that could see the MacKays also destroyed? All these thoughts were buzzing madly around in his mind and there didn’t seem a solution, unless Fiona could persuade her distant cousin the Major to overturn the decision to hang Douglas. But George, with his knowledge of law, doubted whether the Major had the authority to overrule a military tribunal that had already passed sentence. He had not passed this information on to Fiona as he didn’t want to disillusion her enthusiasm to help their friend, and she had insisted on making the effort and he had not been able to persuade her otherwise. The visit to Thurso also give him the opportunity to survey the prison ship and the surrounding area, but he had not disclosed his motive with Fiona or his sister, or the repercussions that could be inflicted by the authorities if he decided to carry through his planned action, and they realised he was the instigator of such an action. He had decided it would not be possible to organize an escape from the castle, this meant the attempt must come when the men were in the prison ship.
The following day he escorted Fiona and Ailie to Thurso Castle which had been the home of the chief of the Clan Sinclair and Jacobite supporters. It had been commandeered and was now occupied by the English forces as their barracks. He waited outside the main gate on the busy quay as they entered the building in their attempt to see the Major.
George stepped back behind a large pile of lobster pots as Fiona and his sister reappeared at the entrance of the main gate, escorted by the same Sergeant who had tried to provoke him the day before. He looked at his pocket watch; barely twenty minutes had passed since they had first entered the building.
That is not very long to change a decision taken by an army court.
He made himself visible to Fiona and Ailie as the Sergeant went back through the main entrance into the building. He knew by the look on his wife and Ailie’s faces, even before she spoke, that she had not been successful with her appeal for the Major to review the hanging sentence passed on their friend Douglas Poulson.
‘He cannot change the verdict,’ voiced a tearful Ailie in reply to his enquiring glance.
‘He says he cannot override the decision, and there are no grounds for an appeal, so the sentence will be carried out as soon as more soldiers can be brought to Thurso; apparently, the Army are concerned they may be trouble during the hanging, but, at the moment, all spare troops are scouring the country looking for the Prince’s generals and the remnants of his rebel army, so it will take a while to organise spare soldiers,’ said Fiona.
He placed his arms around both his wife and sister in a consoling action as they sobbed uncontrollably as it dawned on them the eventual fate of Douglas. As the trio stood in the shadows of the pile of lobster pots, their attention was attracted to the single beat of a drum as a group of Redcoats left the nearby prison building marching in step to the single beat of a drummer boy.
Behind them came a line of a dozen prisoners in a bedraggled unkempt appearance, their clothes ripped and filthy, all were chained together by one ankle as they slowly followed the troop of soldiers, with several more soldiers pushing them along by the butts of their muskets. They moved along the far bank until they came to the stepping stones and traversed the river. He gasped out loud as the prisoners and escort passed by, and he barely recognised the last of the prisoners as his cousin, Donald MacKay, as his bright ginger hair and beard was matted and tangled and strips of cloth that had been ripped from his clothes and bandaged roughly around his ankle in an attempt to stop the iron shackles from shredding the skin and exposing the bone.
The sight of Donald brought more uncontrolled sobbing from the females and a rising anger that so engulfed him that for several seconds everything went black before his eyes and he passed out while still standing. He knew then, within that few seconds, that whatever the outcome or the cost, and even though he had responsibilities to his wife Fiona and their unborn child and to the MacKay clan of who he was their chief, he could not leave any members of his family to perish in a prison ship or die while being worked as a slave, or stand by and leave his innocent friend to be hung.
His thoughts were interrupted by a reasonably well-dressed man who had come alongside the trio unnoticed as they watched the prisoners.
‘It is a sad day for Scotland.’ said the man looking at George. ‘I see you also have people close to you,’ the man continued looking at the ladies still sobbing and clinging to George, then nodding in the direction of the prisoners. ‘My brother is the one near to the end, and he has been charged with attacking one of the Duke of Cumberland’s foreign troops. The soldiers were drunk and entered my brother’s butcher’s shop demanding sausages, they then refused to pay, and he in turn set about them with his broom. They arrested him and he was sentenced for deportation. He leaves a wife and two young bairns, who he will never see again.’
As the soldiers and their prisoners disappeared out of sight towards the prison ship, the trio with Fiona and Ailie still sobbing uncontrollably made their way despondently back to their lodgings.
As the ladies went up the wooden staircase of the tavern to their rooms, George stayed in the empty bar area waiting for the landlord to appear and settled down in front of the peat fire that was smouldering in its hearth. Tired of waiting he took a long swig of whisky from his hip flask, and relaxed as the warm fluid slowly flowed down his lungs to settle in his stomach leaving a warm satisfying glow.
He was desperately trying to analyse what he had heard and seen in the last couple of days, and how he missed the common sense and logical far-sighted advice received from of his uncle at their meetings.
What would the old man suggest over this present situation?
The thought passed quickly through is mind as he watched the peat fire struggling to keep alight in the fire gra
te. At least now he would have more time to plan on what to do about Douglas and the rest of his clan members, while Fiona’s cousin waited for his reinforcements before he organised his loyal friend’s hanging.
That evening and most of the night he spent comforting both his wife and sister who could not control their outbreaks of sobbing at the sudden shock of seeing their cousin Duncan in such a distraught state, and the thought that Douglas, who Ailie now realised that she was in love with, would also be suffering in the same distressed condition.
The following morning at dawn before his wife and sister had risen he left their lodgings and made his way to the MacKay agent’s offices, and here left a note with the clerk along with two gold sovereigns containing instructions that extra food should be delivered to Douglas his herdsman and several of the MacKays who had surrendered to the authorities, an accepted occurrence whereby the jailer could be bribed to allow these deliveries to take place and the provision of extra nourishment for the prisoners.
On his return to the inn, he quickly organised his small party and they left the tavern and started the journey back to Tongue. They had agreed at George’s request for the time being that they would not disclose to the community the authorities would not change their verdict, and the hanging of Douglas would take place as soon as more troops could be spared to supervise and control the crowds. And the herdsman who had also been locked away in the prison ship at the same time would be transported with the other Highlanders as soon as the ship had reached its quota of prisoners. The weather, as they travelled back to the home mirrored their foreboding, overcast and grey with the odd flurry of snow driven by a bitter biting wind. There was very little conversation on their return journey; they were all too deep in their own sad thoughts and the realisation that their way of life was changing forever. Their recent visit to Thurso and the surrounding area had shocked and convinced them that their country was now under Martial Law! And nothing would ever be the same again.
As he rode the horse in front of the buggy, his cloak gathered tightly around the top half of his body, and covering the bottom half of his face to shield it from the wind and stinging driven snow flurries. He was seriously thinking of the possibility that he may be eventually forced to make a terrible decision, and like the rebels hiding in caves and being chased across the length and breadth of the Highlands by the English army, he would eventually be forced join the exodus of these Highlanders being driven to leave what had been their family home for many hundreds of years.
As the light was beginning to fade on the second day they entered the courtyard of Tongue House to be met by Sithig, who quickly took charge of the horses and led them off to the stables, while his wife ushered Fiona and Ailie into the warmth of her kitchen to welcoming steaming bowls of thick broth.
George wearily made his way to his uncle’s study he felt he wanted to be on his own, throughout the long journey from Thurso he had pondered and thought until his head ached with the effort, he had not managed to arrive at a solution that would save the clan from being savaged by the English army for the action that he knew he would have to take.
As he slumped in the large chair that in the past had always been occupied by his uncle, his mind went back to all the previous meeting held in this room with Douglas and his carefree do or die infectious spirit; his uncle attempting to control with logic these tempestuous young men and Riavach bashfully contributing to the meeting his own level-headed thoughts. As he looked around the study he sighed at how the situation had changed so drastically in such a short time.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sithig grunting as he ascended the last few stairs before entering the study carrying a large bowl of delicious smelling broth in one still bandaged hand and half a fresh baked loaf in the other.
‘Ahh Sithig! I didn’t realise how hungry I was until I smelt your wife’s wonderful broth. How are your hands?’
The old man just smiled not having the breath to reply, and placed the bowl and bread on the table in front of George, before sitting down on a nearby chair gasping loudly. By the time George had finished, the hot liquid had already started to drive the chill from his body, and Sithig was breathing normally again.
‘I thank ye for ye concern, George. Ma hands are healing but slowly,’ he said holding them up. ‘I’ve sent one ha servants to fetch ya brother, he along with other men of village are finishing clearing rubble from chapel.’
George nodded placing his empty bowl on the table as he did so.
‘They found body of young bairn; he was in chapel when Sutherlands fired yon building.’
The blunt statement took him by surprise. ‘Where did they find the lad?’ he gasped.
‘He was in crypt the Reverend placed him there thinking if Sutherlands broke in, the young bairn would be safe, hidden as he was with yon stone slab back over entrance. But the smoke and heat must have been severe even there, and the poor child was suffocated, and it was as if he’d been in an oven. The men managed move his body but then chapel wall started to move so they canna do no more. They finishing off now lowering the wall and making yon building safe.’
‘I thank you, Sithig, that is one more score that I have to settle with that murderer, Nicholas Duncan,’ he said clenching his fists as he spat out the name of the man who he had sworn to kill.’
Sithig took the empty bowl and turned to go back down the stairs, but moved to one side to allow Riavach to enter the study, he then continued his slow decent down the narrow stairs.
Meanwhile, Riavach was hopping from one foot to the other, struggling to contain his excitement as he waited for the old stable hand to move slowly down the stairs and out of earshot. ‘I am glad to see you return brother, and Ailie as told me of the negative result of Fiona’s meeting with the English officer, but things are turning for the better; we have found the chest containing the gold.’ Riavach was smiling broadly as George looked at him in amazement.
‘How! When!’ he uttered, and then lapsed into silence and waited for his brother’s explanation.
‘After you and the ladies left for Thurso, we carried on clearing the rubble from the collapsed roof and wall of the chapel. By the second day, we had managed to expose the chapel floor, and it was then that Sithig’s collie started scratching at the floor that led to vaults where our ancestors were enshrined when the chapel was first built. We lifted the flags leading to the vaults and one of the men went down and came back with the body of the young stable hand. There was not a mark on him. He had suffocated since the fire had been so intense it had burnt all the air in the building. We had to abandon clearing the rubble and leave the building when the wall started to crumble and then it collapsed. This morning, we had just finished moving the rubble and been down in the vault again, and I could not believe my eyes when I saw the chest by the light of my lantern. The men still think it is full of lead shot and I had them bring it to the house; it’s now in the Great Hall.’
‘So, the Sutherlands never managed to find the gold,’ said George, with a thoughtful look on his face. ‘Our uncle must have placed the chest in the vault, and before he and the lad could leave, they were trapped in the chapel by the Sutherland raiding party. Uncle hid the lad in the vault never thinking they would burn the building down around his head.
‘Uncle was found with two pistols by his body,’ volunteered Riavach.
‘That would account for the two Sutherland bodies we found outside the chapel entrance when we arrived,’ George added.
‘Yes! Our uncle certainly made a good account of himself,’ joined in Riavach with a smile, thinking of all the good times they had enjoyed in his company. ‘Oh! While you were away you had a delivery of mail, its starting being delivered again now the troubles are over. It has come from the law firm who employed you in Inverness, Forbson and Forbson.’
He handed George a thick brown envelope with a red wax seal, George looked it and a fa
int smile flickered briefly across his lips as he recognised the crest imprinted in the cold wax as being from General James Oglethorpe, his old commander of the Highland Regiment of Foot in the English colony of Georgia.
‘I will leave you with your mail. I have the funeral of the young lad to arrange,’ said Riavach, as he turned and went back to the top of the stairs. ‘What a waste of a young life.’
After his brother had left, he opened the envelope and quickly read the letter from General Oglethorpe. The general had been recalled from Georgia to serve under the Duke of Cumberland during the conflict with Prince Charles, and now that conflict had reached a satisfactory conclusion for the English, he was leaving to return to the Americas and had been appointed governor of the fledgling colony of Georgia by the English Parliament. What he requested of George was to raise more volunteers from the Highlands to enlist in the Highland Regiment in Georgia, and his second-in-command, Captain Mclintosh, would be in contact with more details and information. As he read more of the letter, a broad beaming smile creased his face and a sudden thought struck him like a thunderbolt, so much so that he felt weak at the knees and had to sit back down again in the chair he had just vacated.
He had been presented with a destination and the transport. The French gold would provide for him and his family and for any of the clan members who wished to follow him, the tools and livestock to start a new life in a new land. But most of all it also gave him the means of escape, because he had no intention of leaving behind his friend Douglas and the rest of his clan being held prisoner, rotting in an English prison ship waiting to be hung and deported.
Twenty-One