Broadsword

by R. W. Hughes

  There were several Redcoats on duty at the entrance to the city who casually watched them as George led the small pony and Ian pushed the cart at the rear through the gateway trying to stay calm and unruffled.

  ‘Aye! Scotsman!’

  George stiffened, then as he turned to face the Redcoat who had followed him, he took the small pistol from his jacket pocket and hid it in the palm of his hand, as he did so, the soldier took several steps up the street then stopped.

  ‘If you want the market with your chickens, you’re going in the wrong direction. It’s the other side of town,’ he shouted, then turned and went back the way he had come to join his companion at the entrance gate to the city.

  George raised his arm in acknowledgement and returned the small pistol back in his jacket inside pocket, and gave a reassuring smile to his young companion as they struggled to turn the pony and cart around in the narrow street.

  When this was accomplished, he stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead that was running in his eyes. Three men left the nearby inn in front of them, by their dress he could tell they were Highlanders, and they did not give him a second glance as they continued walking unsteadily down the alley.

  ‘Where to next Nicholas?’ said one of the Highlanders loudly, addressing the largest of the three men.

  At the mention of the man’s name, George froze, stopping the pony, with a jolt of the cart causing a loud squawking from the chickens as Ian tumbled into the stationary cages.

  ‘The next stop is the Royal Swan; I’ve had my eye on the serving wench there for quite a while.’

  His reply brought laughter from his companions, but George had also recognised the voice as that of his hated enemy, Nicholas Duncan. In a moment of blind fury, he withdrew the small pistol from his coat pocket and leaving the pony unattended he moved towards the three unsuspecting men in front of him. His sole intention was to place the small calibre firearm against the temple of the murderer of his father, brother and uncle and remove the man from the face of this earth.

  He had taken four steps towards the three men when reason overcame his blind hatred, causing him to stop as he realised to continue with his act of revenge would raise a hue and cry and most certainly jeopardise the planned release of his friend, Douglas. The men in front moved around a corner of the building leaving him standing alone in the alley, motionless and shaking with emotion.

  ‘You were a very lucky man today, Nicholas Duncan, but your luck will not last forever,’ he said aloud to himself before returning to the bemused Ian and the stationary pony and cart.

  ‘Ian!’ he said aloud, startling the young man. ‘Those three men who have just rounded the corner on their way to the Royal Swan, I wish you to follow them, be very discreet, as they are violent men. If you find where they are lodging, try and bring me the information, but on no account must you place yourself in danger. If things do not go to plan, you must make your own way back to Tongue House; can you do this Ian? And do you remember the directions to the rendivue.’

  He looked at the young Aberach’s face that had lit up at being given what was obvious a very important role by the leader of the clan MacKay.

  ‘Aye! Have no worries, sir, I’m your man.’ And with that the youth hurried off to follow Nicholas Duncan and his two companions.

  The arrangement that he had agreed with the rest of the group was for them to disperse around the town, and then as dusk arrived, they were to make their way individually to the city docks and meet at the warehouse he had described to them. This was to coincide with the changing of the prison ship’s guard, and he had calculated that if he could succeed with his attempt of releasing Douglas and the herdsman, Alick Bain, and any more of his clan without the alarm being raised, it would be nearly nine hours before the next change of guard and the escape would be discovered. This would give them a good start on their return journey to reach the transport ship at Tongue and set sail before the authorities could organise a hue and cry. He also realised that he was being very optimistic that his group could quietly board the ship and over power the soldiers, but if his initial plan failed, he would have to play it by ear and make decisions as and when the situation warranted it.

  It was dark when the group assembled in a warehouse belonging to the agent that dealt with the whisky supplied by the MacKay family. George passed the weapons from the small cart to the men, and they pinned the white emblem on their bonnets giving the impression that this was a Jacobite raid. They then waited as the relieved prison guard made their way past the warehouse entrance on their way to their quarters at the far end of the city. Gathering the group around him, he explained his plan.

  ‘We will stay here for two hours to let the new guard settle down and the incoming tide cover the stepping stones across the harbour before we move on. We will cover the bottom half of our faces and not call each other by our names so as not to be recognised or identified.

  The assassin Nicholas Duncan and two of his associates are at present in the town, so if you want my attention when we have overcome the guards and in earshot of these men, make a point of addressing me as “Nicholas Duncan”.’

  Several of the group could not contain a laugh amongst themselves at the irony of George’s sentence, that the release of several of the Jacobite supporters imprisoned on the ship who were also members of the Sutherland clan could well implicate Nicolas Duncan with the English authorities.

  ‘Hopefully we should be able to accomplish our mission without raising the alarm, but if we run into difficulties make your own way back to the ponies and return as quickly as possibly back to Tongue House, our ships to the colony of Georgia will depart on our arrival.

  ‘There are several small boats moored near the pile of lobster pots opposite the entrance of this warehouse, and we will row them to the far side of the prison ship. I have rope ladders, and one of our men will board the ship via the anchor chain and then lower the rope ladder to the rest of us on the boats.’ He then turned to the group who would be accompanying him.

  ‘When we board the ship, we must resist any temptation to use our firearms at all cost. There can be no bloodshed. We cannot give the authorities the excuse of branding us murderers, so we have to deal silently with the guards. Any use of firearms will also alert the garrison, and we will be trapped along with our friends we are attempting to release, and we will hang alongside them.’ He looked at the men around him, none showed any expression of fear, just a look of grim determination met his gaze. ‘I have shown you on this sketch where the guards are positioned, each of you and your partner know who you have to silence. One of our group will stay at the end of the quay to give us warning if for any reason the garrison is alerted. It is a new moon and heavy with cloud so it will be a dark night and a mist is beginning to drift in from the sea which is fortunate for us.

  ‘All that remains for me to say is no matter what is the outcome of this venture to thank you, gentlemen, for your loyalty and risking your freedom, and may fortune and justice be in our favour.’

  Clamping each man’s hand in turn with a firm shake, he then checked the way was clear before the group slipped quietly across the quay and boarding the two small dinghies that were straining on their moorings against the tide. Settling into the boat they rowed silently in the direction of the dark shadow of the prison ship that appeared suddenly out of the mist.

  As they came closer, they could see lanterns at the gangplank where two soldiers were on guard. There were also lanterns at the two scatter guns on the higher decks where more solders were posted, and a lantern at the bow and stern indicating the position of further soldiers.

  Twenty-Three

  Arriving at the stern of the prison ship that was in the darkest of the shadows, George fastened his rowing boat to the anchor chain, and the other Highlanders boat was fastened to the stern of his boat. He then assisted the most agile of Douglas’s youngest cousins on to th
e thick rope that was joined to the anchor chain from the ship. The young man, with a coil of thin rope fastened around his waist and the other end attached to the rope ladder coiled in the well of the boat quickly pulled himself up the thick anchor rope, and slipped quietly over the rail and onto the deck of the prison ship.

  There were several seconds of tense delay, then slowly the rope grew taught and the rope ladder snaked upwards towards the deck of the ship, now hidden in the thick sea mist that had engulfed the group.

  George was the first of the group to slowly ascend the rope ladder, taking great care not to bang into the side of the ship’s wooden hull in the process.

  One by one the Highlanders joined him, being directed into the shadows as they cleared the hand rail. When all the men were on board, he directed the pairs towards their chosen targets and the faint glow from their lanterns, while he with one of Douglas’s cousins crept slowly towards their chosen targets at the far bow end of the boat.

  As the two men crept closer, they could hear the guards shuffling and stamping their feet and swinging their arms in an attempt to ward off the chill of the sea mist that now enveloped the prison ship and the docks to which it was tethered.

  Using the clubs that George had distributed to his group, both he and his companion attacked the unsuspecting guards as they both had their backs to them. The guards slumped semi-conscious to the deck, their weight supported by their attackers, and they were quickly bound, gagged and blindfolded before being dragged into the shadows and out of the dim light cast by their lantern.

  As George crouched with the young member of the Poulson clan alongside the trussed guards, who now by their groaning were beginning to recover from the blow to their heads, he listened intently, but he could here no sound of a struggle, or cries of alarm from any of the points where the other guards had been posted; all was deathly quiet on the ship.

  Whispering to his companion to stay where he was, he quietly made his way around the four beacons of lamp light where the guards had been previously on duty, and at each point he found the same, the guards trussed and gagged and blindfolded. Leaving one man with each of the two guards and beckoning the other to follow him, he converged on the hatchway that led down into the hull.

  ‘We have not accounted for the officer,’ he whispered to the group that bunched around him.

  ‘What do you suggest, George, sorry Nicholas Duncan,’ exclaimed Paul Aberach, biting his tongue over his blunder.

  ‘We carry on but with great care; we have not the time to search the ship for this officer, so we do what we came for and that is to release Douglas and the rest.’

  Slowly the group made their way down into the hold, thankful for the scarves that still covered their faces which helped a little to stifle the terrible smell that met them of men who had been confined for weeks, with little or no washing or proper toilet facilities.

  Lighting several lanterns that were on a shelf at the bottom of the stairs, the group divided and started searching the cells where men were fastened by chains and ankle clasps to rings held by iron pegs driven deep into the ship’s oak superstructure.

  ‘Nicholas! Nicholas Duncan!’

  George did not recognise at first that the shout was directed at him, but he quickly moved in that direction to find his cousin Hugh MacKay attempting to prise the iron pin from the oak with his dirk. At the end of the chain, fastened by his ankle, was Douglas Poulson, barely recognisable in the ragged attire and matted hair and beard that were entwined as one.

  George resisted the urge to hug his friend as there were too many inquisitive eyes from other prisoners watching, so he just squeezed his friend’s shoulder as he knelt beside Hugh MacKay.

  ‘My attempts are futile, Nicholas,’ he exclaimed loudly, calling George, “Nicholas” for the benefit of the other chained prisoners. We need the keys to the padlocks.’

  ‘The keys are passed to the officer in charge, at each changeover of the guard, also fastened down here in chains are the two MacKay brothers, Benneit MacPhail, Brodie MacGaw, Clyde MacQue, Andrea Macvain, and your cousin Donald MacKay. All have been captured for supporting the Jacobite cause at Colloden,’ croaked Douglas quietly to George.

  ‘Then that officer will have to be found,’ said George, ‘even if we have to search every nook and cranny on this ship.’

  He had no sooner reached the deck then he was met by Branon Macghee. ‘We have captured the officer; he had just started his inspection, and I managed to club him before he could fire his pistol to raise the alarm.’ He held out the pistol to George who placed the weapon in his waist band.

  ‘I have a use for this weapon, Branon, and well done. This officer has the keys to release the prisoners, lead me to him and make sure you mention the name Nicholas in his presence.’

  ‘Aye, I will, if the man as regained consciousness.’

  George followed Branon to the bottom of the stairs leading to the top deck where lying in a crumpled heap was a slightly built figure in an officer uniform of the newly formed English Regiment of Marines. He attempted to kick out as Branan searched his pockets for the keys.

  ‘They are not here, Nicholas,’ said Branon, ‘but they may well be in the quarters used by the officer on watch.’

  As George had held the lantern higher to give Branon more light for his search, he recognised the bound, gagged and blind folded figure as the former maid of his wife, Hannah Snell! The last time they had met was at the reception at Tongue House, he had been surprised to see her impersonating an officer of an English Regiment of Foot, where she had been introduced as “James Grey” along with the other officers of the frigate HMS Sheerness. She had obviously transferred since then to the newly formed English Marine Regiment. Using hand signals to Branon so that their prisoner did not recognise his voice, he indicated that he would search the officer’s cabin.

  As he made his way along the passage, he smiled as he heard Branon say to the still wriggling figure on the wooden floor of the passage, ‘Keep still! Or when Nicholas Duncan returns, he’ll spoil yur pretty uniform with your own blood by cutting your throat.’

  George looked in several cabins along the passage, but to him, they did not have the appearance of being elaborate enough for an officer, especially as he knew from his wife how particular and tidy her ex-maid had been. By the spare clothing and utensils lying in untidy piles, these were being used by the soldiers during their tour of duty on the prison ship.

  In the last cabin at the end of the passage looking around from the light of his lantern he saw a decanter of wine and a glass on the table alongside a single plate were a large bunch of keys. In the far end of the room behind a partly closed curtain was a bunk with neatly laid blankets. He moved into the room and grabbed the keys, but as he turned, he noticed on a nearby chair a small drum with two drum sticks clipped on the white webbing that was hanging over the chair.

  He was halfway back down the passage when it suddenly struck him like a thunder-bolt causing him to stop in his tracks. ‘Damm!’ he said aloud, then carried on hurrying towards the waiting Branon, as he reached his companion he waved the bundle of keys and gestured for him to follow him as he climbed the stairs. Reaching the ship’s deck and well out of earshot of the trussed up figure they had left in the passage, he turned to Branon.

  ‘The drummer boy! We’ve not seen the drummer boy!’

  ‘I’ll organise a search of the ship,’ answered Branon a slight hint of panic in his voice.

  ‘No! We have no time! Take these keys and release Douglas and his herdsman, the MacKay brothers and the rest of the men from the families linked to us. I can’a stand by and see our brethren rot in this hell hole, to be worked like animals in the fields till they drop dead, that is if they ever survived their journey to the Caribbean colonies.’

  Branan Macghee gave a nod of agreement.

  ‘In the meantime, I will check to see if the
re is any movement of troops from the castle.’

  As Branon stealthily slipped away to release the members of the MacKays, George made his way in the opposite direction to the top deck at the stern of the ship. On reaching the point where the lantern was positioned which showed the dark shape of the tarpaulin covered scatter gun, and not wanting to be attacked by his own men, he said in a loud whisper. ‘It is I, Nicholas Duncan,’ and there was a slight scuffling as Paul Aberach emerged from the shadows, a lethal looking club at the ready.

  ‘Ah it is you Nicholas, did you find the keys!’

  ‘Aye, but the drummer boy is missing. Have you heard any sign of alarm from the castle?’

  Before he could reply to George’s enquiry, there came from across the harbour the loud erratic ringing of the castle alarm bell.

  ‘Well, we know where the drummer boy is now. Gather your men together that are on deck and meet me at the gangplank; we need to move quickly or we will be trapped on this hulk.’

  Leaving Paul Aberach to collect the rest of the men, he made his way towards the cells where his friend Douglas had been chained. As he reached the gangway leading down to the hold, he was met by Branon Macghee and the rest of his men helping Douglas, and his herdsman out of the hatch and onto the ship’s deck. As he grasped his friends hand, Douglas was taking in great gulps.

  ‘Thank heaven for this clean night air after the stench of that pigsty below,’ he said as he returned George’s firm handshake and hugged his friend in a bearlike grasp.