Broadsword

by R. W. Hughes

‘The stupid brave young fools; they will be cut to pieces,’ George muttered as he struggled to reload his rifle, while at the same time watching the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. Young David McCoy swung the heavy broadsword at the leading pirate, who easily parried the weapon with his own lethal looking cutlass, then brought the hand guard of his weapon crashing up and into the face of his opponent. Young David McCoy collapsed in a heap, unconscious before he hit the ground. As the pirate raised his cutlass to strike a lethal blow at the inert body at his feet, the other young lad holding the pistol with both hands fired at the pirate. Hit by the ball in the shoulder at such close range spun the man round, by this time the rest of George’s men, who were unable to fire their weapons because of the danger of hitting the two boys, had also broken cover and charged forward in support, yelling their clan war cry as they did so.

  For a brief moment, his view was obscured by the rest of the pirates rushing forward to meet the MacKay charge, and a brief hand-to-hand skirmish ensued.

  Several seconds later he saw the pirate who had been wounded in the shoulder moving towards the fighting group of men, and he could not see David McCoy’s young friend, but he did see there was blood on the pirate’s cutlass.

  The pirate reached his associates to help them in their predicament, and was lost in the melee, which saved him from George’s rifle, but a well-placed shot in the head ended another pirate’s murdering career, before he drew his own sword and pulling a loaded pistol from his belt George too rushed forward towards the melee of fighting men.

  One of the Highlanders nearest to where he entered the fray had been disarmed by a slash across his shoulder forcing him to drop his sword, his large bearded assailant with a vicious looking scimitar curved sword raised above his head was in the process of striking his injured opponent, but was stopped in his action when he took the ball from George’s pistol in the chest from close range, and fell to the ground before he could deliver the fatal blow. Another pirate was quick to take his place swinging a short vicious cutlass towards George’s head. Parrying the blow to one side with his targe, a small shield, he followed with a thrust of his own sword towards the man’s throat. But the pirate was nimble on his feet and moved his body deftly to the side allowing George’s blade to pass aimlessly over his shoulder, before he brought his own cutlass in an upward strike in an attempt to disembowel his opponent. This George blocked with his dirk then stepping back swung his own sword in a mighty horizontal arc, such was the force of the blow, the pirate’s attempt to deflect the heavy weapon with his own cutlass failed only redirecting the razor-sharp blade deep into the top half of his arm, causing him to drop his own weapon and scream in agony. This was instantly silenced as he received a punch in the face with the guard of George’s sword knocking the pirate senseless.

  Greatly outnumbered, the remaining pirates had been no match for the Highlanders’ charge and were quickly overcome. Only two of the attackers, one their leader wearing the red turban, managed to disengage themselves from the fight and run towards the cliff path. But the luck for one of the pirates ran out as his terrified sprint to safety across the open ground came to a staggering stop, as he was hit by a volley of musket fire from the farmhouse. Seeing that the main force of pirates was now beating a hasty retreat, the remaining men in-between the hay waggons decided they would also to make a break for the path down the cliff. But in doing so, it placed them in open ground and several of their party collapsed as they were hit by further fire from the farm and George’s party, who were now in a headlong charge after the retreating invaders.

  Several more of the pirate crew were hit and collapsed at the side of the path during their headlong flight from the MacKays, who continued firing at them from the top of the cliff. None of the pirates stopped to help their wounded companions in their panic to reach their longboats now starting to be launched from the beach.

  George turned as his cousin Hugh MacKay approached and gave him a big hug.

  ‘That was a close shave George; I thought they would overrun us until you arrived on the scene.’

  ‘Was it your lad I recognised who brought word to Tongue of the attack?’

  ‘Aye! One of the village fishermen was returning from laying his lobster pots when the pirate boat appeared out of the sea mist. He managed to race it to the shore and gave the village a few minutes’ warning. Several of the men managed to delay them for a short while as they climbed the path from the beach to the village,

  but they were quickly overpowered and the pirates swept into the village capturing several stragglers who were late making their way to my farmhouse. I sent my youngest son on his pony to light the beacon and then ride on to Tongue.

  ‘We then barricaded the doors, and by having both the men and the women firing from our windows, we were managing to keep them at bay, but it was a close call, a close call indeed.’

  ‘Do not follow them down to the beach!’ shouted George as several of the men that had been in the farmhouse started to make their way down the path after the retreating pirates. But the men continued their descent down the steep path, either not hearing his shouted order or choosing to ignore it.

  ‘Those men have relations taken by the pirates, can we not try and rescue those from the village? You can see they are tied together in the pirate’s longboat,’ shouted Hugh above the occasional noise of a discharged firearm, as he pointed to the long boat still rocking slightly in the swell.

  George pondered for a few moments before replying to his cousin. ‘While we are here on the cliff, we have the advantage of a strategic position, but most importantly, they do not know what a small force we are. They still outnumber us two to one, and there will be more of them on their ship. They have cannon and the beach is well within their range, while here on the cliff we are safe. But I’m afraid we have lost those poor souls to the pirates, but we have saved the rest of the village inhabitants from possible death or a life of untold purgatory.’

  Along with Hugh MacKay, they watched as the last of the pirates boarded the long boat and pushed off towards their ship that was preparing to set sail. There was the boom of cannon and a few seconds later a cannon ball bounced on the shingle between the men from the village now at the bottom of the cliff path and the surf washing onto the beach.

  ‘Down!’ screamed George. ‘Get down!’ He was wildly indicating with his arms to the men below to drop flat, but they seemed to have frozen at the sight of the smoking cannon ball. No sooner had they followed his shouted instructions and thrown themselves onto the shingle, there was a loud explosion as the cannon ball exploded, sending shrapnel and beech pebbles at knee high in all directions.

  ‘Back! Get back up the cliff as fast as you can.’ he shouted as the men scrambled to their feet and as fast as they could and started the steep climb back up the cliff.

  There was another boom from the pirate ship, but this time the shot fell short landing in the sea ten yards from the shore, but the following explosion several seconds later sent a great spout of water high into the air.

  ‘We have taken several casualties, George.’

  He turned from watching the last of the men scramble back on to the edge of the cliff, to face a stern faced senior member of his group.

  ‘We have two with wooden splinter wounds from near misses sheltering behind the tree trunks; we have six with deep cuts from our hand-to-hand fight with the pirates, those short cutlasses are a lethal weapon at close infighting, and David McCoy has a broken jaw and his young friend, Alick MacQue, I’m afraid will lose an arm. The pirates killed two of the village men and took four as prisoners along with three women and two bairns before we arrived. The pirates left twenty-four of their number dead and they must have many more who are badly wounded.’

  George nodded in acknowledgement. ‘That’s fine, Brodie. We are ready to leave as soon as you have prepared the hay cart to transport the injured, but I’m afraid it will be
a bumpy painful return journey for those two boys and the injured men.’

  Brodie nodded then went to prepare the wagon, and George turned back to his cousin.

  ‘I will leave several of the men here to keep lookout, and I will arrange for someone who will keep watch from Tongue at the beacon, in case the pirates have the nerve to return, but I personally doubt it. We have given them a bloody nose and they prefer much softer targets.’

  ‘I agree! I think you are right, George, and I thank you once again on behalf of the village for your prompt assistance,’ his cousin said as he took hold and shook Georges hand vigorously once again.

  It was a weary group that made their slow journey back to the small township of Tongue, both David McCoy and Alick MacQue along with the other injured men were being transported in one of the hay waggons, minus the bulk of its hay apart from a good thick layer to cushion the bumps on the badly rutted track. But even so, there were squeals of pain from the youngsters every time the wheels went over a deep hollow or ridge.

  Impetuous but brave young fools, it need not have happened.

  He thought to himself as their cries rang out at every lurch of the hay waggon.

  A rider had been sent on ahead to inform the residents of Tongue of the outcome of the skirmish, and to give the local butcher ample time to prepare the hot tar that would be used to seal the wound after he had amputated the young man’s arm.

  And he would need to prepare for the sewing together of the deep gashes on the limbs of the rest of the wounded and prepare the herbs to help prevent the wounds turning poisonous.

  As the group entered the edge of the small township, they were met by all the residents. They all knew that there had been fatalities and were concerned for their relations that had ridden out earlier that day with George. There were screams of anguish by the mother of Alick Macque as she saw her son deathly pale, and lying amongst the other injured men in the bottom of the straw covered cart in his blood- stained shirt.

  The town butcher, who also doubled as the area surgeon, was waiting as the hay cart pulled to a stop outside his premises, and then watched by most of the town residents, young Alick Macque was gently carried into the building, to the continuous sobbing of his mother. He was closely followed by David McCoy and the rest of the walking wounded, assisted where necessary by the rest of the group.

  George took his brother Riavach to one side and told him briefly the details of the action that had taken place, then left him to organise a rota to keep watch on the beacon in the event of a return of the pirates.

  ‘Should I collect the weapons?’ he asked as George finished.

  ‘No! I think for the time being the men should keep the weapons. It will save time if we have need to call a muster again soon, and we need to send word at once to the garrison at Thurso that a pirate ship is cruising around in the area; can you arrange that Riavach’.

  ‘Aye! I will arrange it at once, and you, brother, have someone waiting for you who is concerned about your welfare. I suggest you go home at once.’

  As the town residents slowly dispersed, and seeing he could do no more for his injured men, he walked his horse towards Tongue House. It was here as he entered the courtyard he was met by Sithig.

  ‘Young David won’t be in work for a few days, Sithig,’ he voiced as he wearily handed the reins to the old man.

  ‘Aye, I heard he’d taken a blow in the face, an’ it coulda been worse, yon fella will remember now to obey orders.’

  He watched as Sithig with a blunderbuss still carried over his shoulder, took his horse and led it towards the stable block; he knew that the old stablehand would rub it down and it would be fed some hay and oats and then bedded down for the night.

  It was obvious by Sithig’s statement that the horseman who he had sent ahead had already spread the word to the townsfolk, no doubt in graphic detail of the day’s action with the pirates.

  Walking towards the main entrance of Tongue House, he was met by Fiona, who ran towards him and throwing her arms around him with a big hug, and a long kiss on his lips. Then with her arms around his waist, she led him into the main building of Tongue House. He did not sleep well that night; he had woken covered in sweat after a nightmare of the young who had been taken by the pirates, being auctioned in some distant market of the Ottoman Empire. Or chained to their seat as a galley slave and never allowed to move from that position, the filthy conditions below decks with no way of washing or sanitary facilities, leaving the excrement from themselves and their fellow prisoners lapping around their feet, as they were whipped and bullied by the oars master, and being chained there until the day they died.

  He looked at the sleeping form of Fiona beside him. It had been a close call as his cousin Hugh had said, and he could have quite easily ended up alongside those unfortunate young men the pirates had captured. Instead he was here in this warm bed alongside the women he loved who was carrying his child, a son by all accounts according to Sithig’s wife.

  The next few days he threw himself with his brother into the task of organising the livestock and arranging the drovers that would be taking the surplus livestock to the markets for the families who would be leaving with him for Georgia, and storing up the grain and hay for those animals that would be following in the second transport ship.

  The same day, the two ships allocated to take the emigrants to their new land in the Americas dropped anchor in the bay. Word also arrived by messenger that the English frigate had left Thurso to collect a detachment of soldiers from Inverness.

  This information motivated George and Riavach into a frenzy of action. There seemed so much to do and now so little time. They had a hasty meeting with Captain Murphy, the senior of the captains of the two ships, and discussed their schedule of loading the ships in between the tides. They had to load all the fodder for the journey onto the animal transporter with a limited number of personal items of furniture per family onto the same ship. The last to be loaded would be the animals. Those families leaving had to be informed that the ships had arrived, and this ship had to be stocked with rations for their long sea journey. And he also had to organise the men who had volunteered to be involved in the escape of his friend Douglas Poulson, while the English frigate was out of the harbour at Thurso.

  He decided he would leave his brother Riavach in charge of the loading of the two ships, as he and his eight volunteers with their weapons hidden in a small two wheeled cart covered with cages containing poultry as if they were going to market, left the small township. Also accompanying them were three other men who would look after the ponies when they reached the outskirts of Thurso. As they left, they passed a line of waggons taking animal feed down to the small wooden quay that was only accessible by the larger ships to moor alongside for a short while at high tide. This delay was of great concern to George as he felt events were moving out of his control. He suddenly stopped his pony, and turning the animal back towards Tongue, he shouted at Paul Aberach that he would catch them up in a short while. When he entered Tongue, he could see his brother directing the waggons of animal feed towards the quay.

  ‘Riavach!’ he shouted. Riavach came over to join him a puzzled look on his face. ‘We need to speed up the loading of the ships.’

  ‘We can only load at high tide, George, and these ships have a deep drought. They have to move back into the bay when the tide turns, and the quay will only take one ship’s length.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, Riavach, but we need to load at every high tide not just during daylight hours. You will have to organise loading at night by the light of lanterns; I know it will be extremely hazardous but we have to be ready to sail on our return.’

  George noticed a look of panic sweep across Riavach’s face at the task that had been set in front of him, but it vanished in an instant. George was really proud the way his younger brother had responded to the increase in responsibility that had be
en thrust his way since their uncle’s death. With a wave, he spurred his pony forward to follow the group of riders he could see in the distance now heading along the road towards Thurso.

  The following day, as George and his group made arrangements for the stabling of their ponies at a hosiery on the outskirts of Thurso, a horse drawn carriage with two elderly passengers pulled into the courtyard of Tongue House to be met by a surprised Sithig attracted from his stables by the noise of the horses’ hooves on the yards stone cobbles.

  While the old stable hand held the horses, Riavach, who had also been attracted by the entrance of the carriage, opened the carriage door and assisted a lady, wearing a smart city gown, down the carriage step on to the floor of the courtyard, and she was immediately followed by a tall gentleman in a black city frock coat. Riavach closed the carriage door and turned nervously to face the two travellers; it was not often that Tongue House received such well-dressed visitors.

  ‘Doctor and Mrs Watson! I’m so glad you managed to pay us a visit.’ The voice came from Ailie entering the courtyard from the front entrance of Tongue House and moving forward to welcome the parents of her sister-in-law Fiona.

  Riavach looked in amazement, first at his sister then at Fiona’s parents, then to the main entrance of Tongue House as Fiona appeared and give a loud gasp as she recognised the older couple. ‘Mother! Father!’

  Meanwhile the following day on the outskirts of Thurso, George had split his men into small groups in order not to attract any attention, and with a reasonable distance in-between, he had sent them on foot along the road into the town giving them directions on where to rendezvous. He had left two of the older men behind; they had been brought along with the sole purpose of looking after the ponies of his group, plus surplus animals for the prisoners while the main group were away from the stables. The last thing he wanted if they were forced to leave in a hurry was to arrive at the inn to find their transport back to MacKay country had been stolen. George was the last to leave accompanied by young Ian Aberach who he had been persuaded to allow to accompy them by the rest of the group. Their reasoning being that, if messages had to be carried, a young boy would be less likely to attract attention, also the same would apply to a father and son pushing a hand cart—they would also attract less attention which was important as the cart contained their weapons hidden under a bed of straw, with several cages of clucking hens piled on top.