The Road to Culloden Moor

by Diana Preston

  When he wasn’t roistering Charles had time to reflect on events for the first time since the battle. According to Neil Maceachain, ‘his ordinary conversation was talking of the army, and of the battle of Culloden, and the highland chieftains whose lamentable case he deplored very much.’ He fretted over his decision to allow the Athollmen and others to fight on the right ‘merely by the persuation of my Lord George Murray, and several others’, and paid tribute to the courage of the Macdonalds on the field. Underlying everything was his bitter condemnation of Lord George Murray ‘as being the only instrument in losing the battle …’ He comforted himself by looking out to sea in the belief that the ships which could be seen in the distance were French vessels. He still seemed confident that the French would send an invasion force to England under his brother Henry.

  To an extent Charles was living in never-never-land during those golden days of summer at Coradale and they could not last. The Government was determined to capture him and the net was drawing tighter. News came that troops were sweeping the glens in his direction, forcing him back into the arms of that unreliable ally, the sea. He and Neil went into hiding on Benbecula before Donald and O’Sullivan reached them by boat and took them off. Not that there was anywhere to go — in desperation they made in mid-June for Loch Boisdale on South Uist, hoping that Boisdale would help them, only to learn that he was now a prisoner in the hands of the sadistic Lowlander Captain Ferguson. His house had been ransacked and his wife tied up. The situation needed a miracle: ‘We were never a day or night without rain, the Prince was in a terrible condition, his legs and thighs cut all over from the briers; the midges or flies which are terrible in that country devoured him and made him scratch those scars which made him appear as if he was cover’d with ulcers.’ Not only that but Charles was suffering from a ‘bloody flux’ which they treated with treacle, apparently successfully. However, it was clear they could not go on like this.

  They decided to split up, with Charles heading north with Felix O’Neil and Neil Maceachain and the others — O’Sullivan, Macleod and Ned Burke — left to fend for themselves as they thought best. It was a sad parting between Charles and the faithful O’Sullivan, at least according to the Irishman’s account. Charles took him in his arms and held him for a full quarter of an hour while tears poured down O’Sullivan’s weatherbeaten face. Neil Maceachain recorded how O’Sullivan was ‘left under a rock with the best part of the prince’s baggage’. And so they parted. It was not long before O’Sullivan was rescued and whisked off to France with tales of the Prince’s plight but for Charles another bizarre episode was about to begin.

  Enter the most famous Jacobite heroine of them all, Miss Flora Macdonald. As Maxwell of Kirkconnell put it, ‘Now it was a young lady that was most instrumental in extricating him out of this, the greatest of all the difficulties he had hitherto been in.’ At first glance Flora was an unlikely heroine. Hers was not the romantic fervour of a Colonel Anne. Neither was she a beauty though she was ‘of a fair complexion and well enough shap’d’. Flora was a sensible young woman of twenty-four who needed a lot of convincing before she agreed to help the fugitive Prince.

  However, she was an undoubted Jacobite both by birth and inclination. She had grown up in the islands amid deep memories of past risings and avid speculation about future ones. She later told Bishop Forbes that her step-father, one-eyed Hugh Macdonald, had been the first clansman to kiss Charles’s hand when he landed on the mainland. Hugh had not come out for Charles for fear of offending his chief, Macdonald of Sleat, whose factor he was. Indeed, he had been appointed captain of one of the companies raised by Sleat for the Government, but his influence was critical in the dangerous days that lay ahead for his step-daughter. Flora was also helped by the fact that she could travel without rousing suspicion. Her brother managed the family farm at Milton on South Uist while her mother and step-father lived on Skye. As such she was a frequent traveller between the isles.

  Gaining her consent was a delicate operation and the groundwork was done by Felix O’Neil. He met Flora at Clanranald’s house and hinted that she might see the Prince. She was suitably thrilled saying that ‘… a sight of him wou’d make her happy, tho’ he was on a hill and she on another.’ She was to have her wish. It was a Hebridean custom for the young girls to take the cattle up into the high pastures in the summer months. Flora went with her brother’s herd up to Sheaval, a seven-hundred-and-fifty-foot hill behind Milton. She was asleep in the ‘spieling’ — a sort of shelter — when she had a royal visitor. She barely had time to pull on ‘the half of her clothes’ when Charles appeared in the doorway. While she stood there dazed, he told her of his plan to go to Skye disguised as a woman and asked for her help.

  Flora’s first reaction was dismay. It seemed a crazy plan which would put herself and her family at risk. ‘With the greatest respect and loyalty’, she turned him down. Felix did his best, promising her that if she agreed she would gain ‘an immortal character’. He even said that if she were worried about her reputation he would marry her. However, all this eloquence counted for nothing until Charles made a passionate appeal with all the charm he was capable of. He would, he said, always retain a sense of ‘so conspicuous a service’ if she would only help him. He talked to her of Hugh, her step-father. He coaxed and cajoled her irresistibly and against all her better instincts she gave in. It was agreed that they would meet in a few days at Rossinish, and Flora set out in some trepidation for Clanranald’s house to enlist Lady Clanranald’s help and to prepare Charles’s female disguise.

  Flora’s problems began almost at once. Government troops were on the look-out for anything suspicious and she was arrested by the militia as she crossed the ford between South Uist and Benbecula because she had no permit to travel. The soldiers began to question her, but she kept her head and demanded to know who their captain was. To her relief she discovered that it was her step-father. When he arrived next morning he was able to order her release and save her from interrogation. However, just as she was breakfasting with him, more soldiers burst in with Neil Maceachain. Frantic with impatience, Charles had sent him to find out what had happened to Flora and he had fallen right into their hands. Hugh was able to save him as well and he quickly made his way back to Charles to reassure him that all was well. It was difficult — by now Charles was cold, wet, hungry, suffering from scurvy and tormented with sores. Life among the rocks and the rain did not suit him and he gave vent to ‘hideous cries and complaints’ about the midges. It was a squalid predicament for a young hero and not the sort of thing the songs and poems would dwell on.

  Meanwhile, Flora and her step-father laid their plans with care. He gave her travel passes for herself, a manservant and a woman — Betty Burke — and she set off for Lady Clanranald at Nunton. Soon the women were busily sewing a costume for Charles because there was nothing in the house big enough for him. Fingers and needles flew as they made a quilted petticoat, a calico gown with sprigs of lilac flowers, a white apron, a dun-coloured cloak ‘after the Irish fashion’, with a capacious hood and a cap designed to hide Charles’s face. They also got together some stockings, some blue velvet garters and some shoes for their gawky female impersonator.

  At last everything was ready. On 27 June Neil Maceachain brought Flora, Felix O’Neil, Lady Clanranald and other loyal helpers to a rendezvous with the midge-ridden prince. They sat down to a meal of roasted offal but were interrupted with the frightening news that at that very moment General Campbell had landed close to Nunton with fifteen hundred troops. According to Maceachain, ‘All run to their boat in the greatest confusion, every one carrying with him whatever part of the baggage came first to his hand, without either regard to sex or quality’. The party fled across to Loch Uiskevagh, a sea loch to the north, but messages came from Nunton that General Campbell was demanding the return of Lady Clanranald and threatening to destroy the house. Not only that but other troops were on their way. It was clear that no time must be lost in putting the plan
into action.

  Hugh had given Flora a letter addressed to her mother on Skye to act as her passport. It was later destroyed but according to Flora it read:

  My dear Marion,

  I have sent your daughter from this country lest she should be in any way frightened with the troops lying here. She has got one Bettie Burke, an Irish girl, who, she tells me, is a good spinster. If her spinning please you, you may keep her till she spin all your lint; or if you have any wool to spin, you may employ her. I have sent Neil MacKechan along with your daughter and Bettie Burke to take care of them. I am, Your dutyful husband,

  Hugh Macdonald

  There was no mention of Felix O’Neil or any alias for him which meant that he must be left behind. Charles begged and pleaded for him to come but this was no time for sentiment and the clear-headed Flora refused on the grounds that ‘she could more easily undertake the preservation of one than of two or more.’ As soon as the rest of the party had gone Charles struggled into new attire helped by Flora, ‘but could not keep his hands from adjusting his headdress, which he cursed a thousand times’. He wanted to conceal a pistol under his petticoats but again Flora would not hear of it and it sparked a wry response from Charles. ‘Indeed, Miss,’ he is said to have remarked, ‘if we shall happen to meet with any that will go so narrowly to work in searching as what you mean, they will certainly discover me at any rate.’ However, she allowed him to keep his cudgel.

  The plan was to make a dash across the open sea under cover of darkness so they hid until nightfall. There were a few moments’ panic when five wherries full of armed men sailed by, but they did not spot the Prince’s small craft in the shadow of the shore. After sunset the small group embarked on their famous journey ‘over the sea to Skye’. At first the weather was calm but towards midnight a westerly gale blew up and they were engulfed in a thick mist ‘as robbed them of the sight of all lands’. The rowers heaved and sweated and the boat pitched and rolled in the teeth of the wind. Exhausted by the events of the last few days, Flora drifted into sleep and Charles guarded her, ‘lest in the darkness any of the men should chance to step upon her’. These were the hours which established Flora as one of the heroines of Scottish history and earned her the envy of many a Jacobite lady. What could have been more desirable than sailing to Skye with the handsome young Prince she had plucked from the jaws of danger and who now tenderly guarded her while she slept? The fact that Charles was dressed as a woman, smelled to high heaven and was covered with lice has never been allowed to dull that shining image.

  Flora’s own account was to feed the legend. She later described how ‘Happening to wake with some little bustle in the boat she found the Prince leaning over her with his hands spread about her head. She asked what was the matter? The Prince told her that one of the rowers being obliged to do somewhat about the sail behoved to step over her body … and lest he should have done her hurt either by stumbling or trampling upon her in the dark … he had been doing his best to preserve his guardian from harm.’

  While the boatmen argued about which course to take, Charles, who was in high spirits, sang ‘pretty songs’ to divert her, including one of his favourite airs:

  For who better may our high sceptre sway

  Than he whose right it is to reign

  Then look for no peace for the wars will never cease

  Till the King shall enjoy his own again.

  He shared the milk which Lady Clanranald had given him with his boatmen, drinking from the same bottle ‘jock-fellow like’, his erstwhile fastidiousness forgotten. However, he reserved the half-bottle of wine he had left for Flora, ‘lest she should faint with the cold and other inconveniences of a night passage’. When, as a prisoner, she told these stories to the ladies who visited her they caused a sensation and cries of ‘O Miss, what a happy creature are you who had that dear Prince to lull you asleep, and to take such good care of you with his hands spread about your head when you was sleeping! You are surely the happiest woman in the world!’ ‘I could,’ says one of them, ‘wipe your shoes with pleasure, and think it my honour so to do, when I reflect that you had the honour to have the Prince for your handmaid. We all envy you greatly.’

  When morning broke, Charles, ‘who was not in the least discouraged’ by the appalling weather, urged the boatmen on, offering to row himself as they were ‘almost ready to breathe out their last’. They had been blown off-course in the night and were dangerously close to the Macleod country in the north-west of Skye. The ‘cold’ Macleods were out hunting for Charles as good servants of King George and it was doubtful whether they would take such a flexible view of things as the Macdonalds of the Long Island. The boatmen hastily pulled away from the shore but at the next place they tried to land they were spotted by militia men who fired on them. At last, having rowed ‘for dear blood’, they managed to bring the craft safely into shore on the Trotternish Peninsula. They made for a small beach still called Prince Charlie’s Point and landed ‘within a cannon shot’ of Macdonald of Sleat’s house of Monkstat. Demure in her lilac sprigged gown Betty Burke was confident of a loyal reception.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘THE CAGE’

  Flora set off for Monkstat accompanied by Neil to seek the help of Lady Margaret Macdonald, the Chief of Sleat’s wife. They had left strict instructions that, if anyone approached, the boatmen were to say that Charles was Flora’s maid and to curse her for a lazy jade for not attending her mistress. Sleat himself was away, apparently waiting on Cumberland. However, his wife had other company which made Flora’s arrival particularly unwelcome. She was entertaining Lieutenant Alexander Macleod ‘a sneaking little gentleman’ in charge of the militia guarding that particular stretch of coast. Luckily for Flora, Macdonald of Kingsburgh, one of Sleat’s factors was also there. While Lady Margaret and Kingsburgh conspired urgently, Flora had to go and make polite conversation to the objectionable lieutenant in the dining room. She dealt coolly with his questions, explaining that she was on her way home to her parents at Armadale and had called on Lady Margaret to pay her respects. Her ‘close chit-chat’ as she later called it disarmed the lieutenant who had no suspicions.

  Flora was rather more in control than Lady Margaret, who foresaw nothing but ruin for herself and her family if she helped Charles. She was ‘in the greatest perplexity’, mentally and physically wringing her hands. This was a very different matter from admiring the Prince from afar and sending graceful gifts and loyal messages, and now she wished Charles anywhere but at Monkstat. She and Kingsburgh were joined by Donald Roy, one of the few of her husband’s men to come out for the Prince, who had fought at Culloden and been wounded. Between them they agreed that Charles must not come to Monkstat — it was far too risky. Instead, it was decided that Kingsburgh would take the Prince to his own house from where he could travel overland to Portree and on to the isle of Raasay.

  Donald Roy left at once to find out whether Raasay was safe. Meanwhile, Neil had returned to Charles to guide him to a safe place while plans were finalised. He found the Prince in an intractable mood. When he suggested that Charles carry a bundle of light clothes ‘as if it had been some of Miss Flora’s baggage’ to give an air of authenticity to his disguise, Charles soon threw it down, ‘saying that he had carried it long enough’ and told Neil to carry it himself or leave it. When he realised he had left a set of knives in the boat he insisted Neil should return for them and spoke like a true autocrat. ‘I must absolutely have it, so no more words.’ He was, as poor Neil observed, ‘quite out of humour and ready to fly in a passion’. Cold, hunger, diarrhoea and uncertainty were taking their toll and Charles could not sustain the sort of princely behaviour that Flora experienced.

  It was a relief to everyone when an hour before sunset they set out. Charles walked with Kingsburgh and Neil, loping along in his unlikely disguise and making little attempt to behave in a demure or subservient way. Flora rode behind with Mrs Macdonald of Kirkibost and her maid. Her worst fears were confirmed when
she heard what the locals were saying about the ‘impudence and assurance of Miss Burk’. They were frankly amazed by her —‘what terrible steps she takes, how manly she walks, how carelessly she carries her dress’ and a hundred such-like expressions fell on Flora’s anxious ears.

  Not that very high standards were expected. A few years earlier Captain Burt had been struck by the unprepossessing ways of Scottish maidservants: ‘They hardly ever wear shoes … but on a Sunday; and then, being unused to them, when they go to church they walk very awkwardly: or, as we say, like a cat shod with walnut-shells … I have seen some of them come out of doors early in a morning, with their legs covered up to the calf with dried dirt, the remains of what they contracted in the streets the day before: in short, a stranger might think there was but little occasion for strict laws against low fornication.’ Nevertheless, Flora was convinced that Charles’s capture was imminent. There was a particularly nasty moment as they crossed a ford. Without thinking Charles yanked his skirts high and Neil called out, ‘For God’s sake, Sir, take care what you are doing!’

  Kingsburgh decided to cut across country so that the ungainly Betty Burke would attract less attention, while Flora went on by road having to endure Mrs Macdonald’s chatter. When they arrived at last at Kingsburgh’s house, everyone had gone to bed. A servant was sent to wake his wife with the news that the master was come home with company which included Flora Macdonald. However, she was sleepy and while she said that Flora was welcome to the run of her house she was not going to come down. The first intimation she had that something strange was going on was when her daughter Anne burst in on her exclaiming, ‘O mother, my father has brought in a very odd, muckle, ill-shapen-up wife as ever I saw! I never saw the like of her, and he has gone into the hall with her.’ Kingsburgh himself then appeared and told her to dress and prepare food for his visitors though he would not say who they were.