Broadsword

by R. W. Hughes

‘From the way you smell, I think you’ve brought the pigsty with you,’ he laughed as he warmly returned his friend’s hug.

  ‘But now we must make haste as the alarm has been raised! Do you still have the keys, Branon?’ he said as Branon Macghee pulled himself out of the hatchway.

  ‘Aye but we can’a find the cell containing Alick and Andra MacKay.’

  George took the keys held up to him. ‘We cannot jeopardise the safety of the rest of you for the two brothers; go to the gangplank and you will find Paul Aberach and the rest of the men. When you are all accounted for, go back to the warehouse as quickly and as quietly as you can. A large group like we are will be too conspicuous and we cannot risk attempting to leave the town at present. I will meet you there. The alarm has been raised the road over the bridge and out of town will be strongly guarded.’

  None of the group made any effort to follow his instructions.

  ‘The soldiers will be here in a few minutes,’ he continued. ‘To stay any longer searching for Alick and Andra, I can guarantee that we will all be killed, hung or carried off to die working as slaves on some Caribbean island, and that will benefit none of you, and it would not be what the brothers would have wanted anyway.’

  The group led by Branon Macghee turned reluctantly, and following George’s order, made their way towards the centre of the ship and the gangplank. While he took his razor-sharp dirk from its sheath, he made his way to the bow of the ship. Leaning over the starboard side, he sliced through the taut anchor rope which was straining against the pull of the tide and he quickly moved to the port side of the ship and did the same there. He then made his way back into the hold of the ship and towards the rest of the chained prisoners.

  Making sure his face was well covered by his scarf, he entered the main section of the prison ship. By the light of his lantern he could see men crowded together, some sitting and some standing. One chain ran the length of the hold passing through a clamp on all prisoners’ ankles where at the end of the hold it was fastened to a ring by a large padlock. They shaded their eyes from the light of his lantern as George held it higher to better see their terrible plight.

  ‘You men!’ he shouted getting their attention before he continued.

  ‘My name is Nicholas Duncan, and I have come to release you from this hell hole. The alarm has been raised. British soldiers are at this moment closing the road out of the town, in a short while they will be boarding this ship. For you men to try and hide in the town will be a hopeless venture, you will be hunted down and returned to your chains. You have one chance, and that is to sail the ship out of the harbour on the ebb tide, and you must do this at once in order to clear the causeway at the harbour entrance before the water level is too low. So, I suggest you release any man with experience of sailing first, and do not harm the Marine guards trussed up on the deck, if you do, and you are eventually caught, you will definitely hang.’

  George threw the bunch of keys in amongst the group of men, and then quickly made his way back on deck, relieved to be able to breathe the clear air once again after the unbearable stench of below decks.

  ‘Just those ropes on the stern now,’ he said aloud to himself as he quickly made his way to the rear of the boat and slashed the anchor rope there. The boat lurched forward and then stopped suddenly throwing him off his feet onto the deck, as the one remaining rope at the stern of the ship and fastened to a capston on the quay squeled under the strain, but still held the ship from floating off with the tide. He quickly recovered and made his way down the gangplank onto the quay and quickly started to cut the rope at the stern that were as taught as a bow string straining against the large capstans on the quay to which they were fastened. Immediately the boat began to move from the quay.

  He then moved into the shadows between two warehouses where he could observe the situation but remain hidden. The gangplank dropped into the harbour as the boat pulled farther away from the quay gathering speed by the minute. Several prisoners, who had been the first to release themselves from their chains, rushed to the gap in the hand rail where several seconds earlier there had been a gang plank; they stopped suddenly as they realised the gap was too wide to jump and getting wider by the second, and they were trapped on this drifting hulk of a boat.

  ‘There are two rowing boats below,’ the shout came from one of their companions at the stern of the boat which sent the two ex-prisoners running in that direction.

  George heard all this from his position in the ally, and as the prison ship drifted towards the centre of the harbour, it left behind the two rowing boats used by George and his friends that were still fastened to the anchor rope which had previously held the old frigate in position. There were several loud splashes as several of the ex-prisoners jumped from the rear of the ship and swam back towards these boats. As the prison ship slowly faded into the mist, he just made out several figures starting to climb into the rigging. He turned his attention to the men now clambering into the two small rowing boats still fastened to the old anchor chain.

  This is not what he wanted. If these men came ashore and entered the town, there would be a hue and cry, and that risked his own group who were sheltering in the warehouse being discovered.

  As the ex-prisoners grew nearer to the quay, at every oar stroke he realised he would have to try to stop them, and so primed his small pocket and the officer’s pistol in readiness. He had just started to leave the alley, but quickly returned to the shelter of the shadows as a platoon of Redcoats came jogging at the double down the quay, just in time to surround the men who were in the process of leaving the two small rowing boats and climbing the flight of stone steps that led down from the quay to the water’s edge.

  That worked out very well, those prisoners will no doubt be eventually persuaded by the authorities to disclose who was behind their release.

  A grim smile creasing his face as he made his way to the warehouse, having to backtrack on several occasions to avoid groups of soldiers who were stopping, interrogating and searching civilians woken from their sleep and brought out onto the street by the ringing of the castle alarm bell.

  He slipped into the warehouse by a narrow side entrance; the main door to the warehouse was still closed with a large padlock prominently displaced to convince onlookers or searching soldiers that everything in that building was still safe and secure. He closed the side door and put a tinder to his lantern before moving to the centre of the warehouse, a moment of panic came over him, where were his group? There was no one here. There was a slight movement from the far end of the warehouse, causing George to raise his pistol and cock the hammer pointing the weapon in the direction of a figure moving in his direction.

  ‘Do not fire, George. It is I, John MaKay.’

  As his cousin came into the light from the lantern he was aware of other figures following behind him.

  ‘For a moment, I thought you had been apprehended and not made it to the warehouse,’ he said the relief sounding in his voice.

  ‘No! Everyone is accounted for,’ said Paul Aberach, coming into the light from the lantern.

  ‘And your son, Ian. Is he here also?’ asked George.

  ‘Yes, my lad returned a short while before you,’ replied Paul Aberach, turning and beckoning his son to come forward.

  ‘Did you manage to follow the Sutherland men, Ian?’ he asked.

  Ian Aberach felt rather embarrassed as he stood in the light of the lantern surrounded by all the men knowing that he was the centre of attention, but he put on a brave face.

  ‘Yes, sir. I followed them as you instructed, and they went to three more taverns and eventually the last one was called the “Spread Eagle” they went up the stairs. They were very drunk, but I waited a good while and then as they did not leave the room, I listened outside the door and I could hear them snoring. I looked in the stables and there were three ponies tethered in the stalls.’

 
‘Did you notice if one of the ponies was a grey with a black face?’ he queried.

  ‘Yes sir! Those were the markings on one of the ponies,’ replied Ian.

  ‘You have done well, lad. I have also seen you in battle with your father, you are a brave young man, and you must call me “George”, you have earned that right, and now I need you to take me to the tavern where the three men are lodging.’

  ‘Do you wish us to accompany you, George?’ said Hugh Mackay stepping forward.

  ‘No, the lad and I will attract less attention, but I will take two of the pistols from the cart. Also, the prison ship with the prisoners is in the centre of the arbour and they are setting the sails, except for several who came ashore on the rowing boats we had used and walked right into the hands of a platoon of Redcoats. No doubt by now they will be divulging who it was that released them. I now need to sow the evidence for the authorities on our friend Nicholas Duncan.’ He held up the Marine officer’s pistol and grinned. ‘But in the meantime, you must lie low. There are patrols everywhere, but you are safe enough here until the town quietens down.’

  Keeping to the back alleys of the town, George and the young Ian Aberach made their way to the Spread Eagle, a tavern that had cheap lodgings and stabling, a place that George knew was a gathering place for the Sutherland clan members when they were in the town. There was no movement around the stables, so leaving Ian on watch at the stable entrance, he made his way to the three horses tethered in their stalls. Talking quietly to the ponies and stroking their manes to settle them, he placed one pistol apiece in the side pockets of the pony’s saddles that were placed over a nearby rail. The officer’s pistol he placed in the side pocket of the fancier of the saddles, which he knew would belong to Nicholas Duncan.

  Leaving the stables, they made their way to the main street leading to the main gate out of the town, while he hid in a nearby alley, young Ian having been coached in what to say, approached a group of soldiers stationed at the walled arched entrance. When he was twenty yards away, he started to run towards them, and as he approached he gasped, ‘I need to speak to the officer in charge. I have an urgent message from the landlord of the Spread Eagle tavern, there are three men in lodgings there, and they have weapons in their possession. He says to come, it is most urgent,’ it took several minutes before Ian was taken in front of the officer and could repeat his message. As the soldiers and their officer trotted along the street towards the tavern, Ian dropped slowly further behind and as he drew level he slipped into the alley to join George.

  ‘Well done lad,’ he said slapping the lad on the shoulder. ‘Justice may well take place; it’s just a pity that as much as I would like, I cannot wait to watch the spectacle.’

  ‘While I was waiting for the officer, the soldiers were talking about the prison ship. It’s grounded on the causeway at the mouth of the harbour, and the soldiers were waiting for reinforcements before attempting to board it,’ said Ian.

  He pondered over this information as they made their way back to the warehouse again keeping to the back alleys, thankful for the sea mist that was still hanging over the town.

  As before, as they entered the warehouse through the side entrance anyone would have surmised the building was empty, until he whispered in a loud voice, and several figures appeared from behind the stacks of bales and boxes. After a short discussion with the rest of the group, they all agreed with him that while the military were engrossed in recapturing the prison ship, it would be an ideal time to take advantage of the darkness and thick mist to scale the wall and leave the town.

  The group did not have to wait long. The crack of the scatter gun, followed by the firing of several muskets from the grounded prison ship, was the signal for George to lead his group to the farthest point from the town gate that he had surveyed on his previous visit. Then using the same rope ladders from when they boarded the ship, they scaled the town wall. And as dawn was beginning to appear, they collected their ponies and a very weary, tired but very elated group set off on their journey back to MacKay territory and Tongue House.

  As the weather started to deteriorate, the raiding party gave up their cloaks to the ex-prisoners, who were in a poor state of health after their long period in captivity on the prison ship and were starting to suffer from exposure. Several of the ponies were carrying a double load, and even though these double loads were alternated between the animals on a regular basis, some of the younger men that had volunteered with George were also jogging at the side of the ponies carrying the weaker ex-prisoners. The journey was much slower than what he had planned.

  But he was quite happy with what they had achieved and without any fatalities on either side, and he smiled as the ponies trotted along the track which brought a comment from his friend Douglas riding by his side.

  ‘What brings a smile to your face George?’

  Georges grin became even broader as he replied to his friend. ‘The added bonus that placed the cream on top of the cake for this venture was making contact with my sworn enemy Nicholas Duncan, and by doing so, I have not denied the residents of the town of Thurso their hanging.’

  Both men burst into laughter to the amazement of their companions, as the icy heavy downpour over the last hour had soaked them all to their skin and dampened their previous high spirits.

  After twenty miles and as dusk was beginning to fall, they were nearly halfway to Tongue and well into Mackay country. He had made arrangements with one of the clan members outside the village of Melvich for his barn to be made available and not to be concerned if he noticed strange lights during that period.

  Even though the weather was atrocious and it was most unlikely that there would be any English forces in the vicinity, he went ahead to check that the area was free of any army patrols before returning, and beckoning the group forward towards the shelter of a stone building with a turf roof, situated well out of sight from any travellers that may be travelling along the nearby track.

  In no time at all, the ponies had been rubbed down by several of the men and a hot meal was being prepared for all of them by several others. He was concerned by the poor condition of the prisoners after their period of hiding in the Highlands, their capture and subsequent imprisonment either in the dungeons of Thurso Castle or on the prison ship, then their journey over the exposed moorland battered by the icy storm. This would have tested their stamina and willpower to the limits of their endurance.

  He looked around the barn at the scene dimly lit by several lanterns; he had divided the group into small working parties. Hugh Mackay had volunteered to keep watch and was outside the barn door that was slightly ajar to allow the smoke from the fire placed in the brazier to disperse. Paul Aberach and Douglas Poulson were drying and loading the group’s weapons with dry powder and shot. Branon Macghee and John Mackay were rubbing down the steaming ponies, while the three cousins of Douglas were vigorously rubbing the naked bodies of the prisoners’ undernourished bodies with straw, to try and get some feeling back to the men’s frozen limbs.

  For the ex-prisoners, this would be the first simple but nourishing hot meal they had tasted since they had been arrested by the English Military many weeks previously. The aroma of simmering vegetables laced with ample amounts of barley filled the barn, as the young Ian Aberach manoeuvred around the groups wet steaming clothes strung around the fire, in order to keep stirring the large iron cauldron containing the groups evening meal.

  After their hot food followed by a dram apiece of whisky from George’s flask, and weary from their journey, the released prisoners burrowed naked into the loose hay and within minutes were asleep, their damp clothes still hung around steaming from the heat of the brazier.

  While the men were making themselves comfortable he organised a rota amongst the rest of the Highlanders to keep guard, and also keep the fire burning using timber from breaking several wooden stalls within the barn, a half sovereign was placed in
a prominent position when they left, that would more than compensate the farmer for the damage they had inflicted on his property.

  The following morning, before dawn had broken, the still naked men were roughly awakened by George shaking their shoulders in turn. For all the ex-prisoners, it had been the first night where they had a proper sleep since they had been imprisoned, even sleeping through the occasional nightmare suffered by several of their companions, and some were reluctant to leave their warm bed of straw. But he was insistent and bullied and cajoled them until they were all standing round the still burning fire, replacing their now dry clothes before finishing off the still hot vegetable stew.

  ‘It’s amazing how quickly a body can recover with a hot meal and a good night’s sleep in a warm bed,’ he said to his friend Douglas, as he observed the group of men who were laughing and joking amongst themselves as if it had only just dawned on them that they were now free.

  ‘Yes, George, I agree, they certainly have a spring in their step this morning.’

  ‘Quickly men finish your meal, we need to douse the fire before dawn, I don’t want a tell-tale plume of smoke attracting attention to our position,’ he shouted as the men around the fire finished the last of the stew.

  As the group moved off he looked back at the barn that had been their resting place for the night. In the improving light of dawn, he saw a shadowy figure enter the building; he was unconcerned as that would be the farmer clearing away any evidence of their stay. This would be for his family’s safety and security as well as the that of his own group.

  The day’s weather was kind to the men as they completed the last stage of their journey to Tongue House. The icy wind and driving rain from the previous day had dispersed, and a weak winter sun had taken their place causing a spring in the ponies’ steps as they made good time over the exposed moors. Their only short stop was at midday when the scout riding ahead galloped to join the group waving for them to take cover in a nearby coppice of trees. With no time to spare, the group concealed themselves on the far side of the clump of trees. Several of the men held the muzzles of their ponies to stop any neighing to the horses that now came into sight, carrying a patrol of English Dragoons.