by John Buchan
A storm and a glimpse of two
war-ships forced them to land.
It was a dangerous journey, for fifteen sail were visible at sea, and they knew that the land was guarded. They lay all day out of sight in a narrow creek, and landed at night on the shores of Loch Boisdale, where the Prince slept on a bed of heather in the shelter of a ruined castle. Next morning their spirits rose, for the Pilot saw two French ships appearing, and they were ready to hail them when they made the sad discovery that they were Government vessels. A party of soldiers under Captain Caroline Scott, one of Cumberland’s best executioners, landed within a mile of them, and the Prince took to the hills, while the boatmen concealed the boat. For three days the Prince was engaged in dodging the Redcoats on one side or the other of Loch Boisdale. Their journey was useless, for Boisdale had been made a prisoner and his wife could do no more than warn them of Scott’s neighbourhood.
The Prince decided on a bold and desperate plan. When he was at Coradale, a half-hearted friend, Ronald MacDonald, the chief of Clanranald, had sent him as an attendant a gentleman of his clan named Neil Macdonald-Maceachain, the future father of a distinguished son, Napoleon’s Marshal Macdonald, Duke of Tarentum. Neil Maceachain had been educated in France for the priesthood, and Clanranald knew that he was fitted to be a companion for the Prince. Soon after Neil joined him, the Prince received a message from Hugh Macdonald of Armadale. This man was in charge of a company under his cousin, Sir Alexander Macdonald of Sleat, whose duty was to capture the Prince. But Hugh Macdonald had served in the French army and was himself a Jacobite, and his loyalty to his own chief was modified by the circumstance that his chief’s wife, Lady Margaret MacDonald, was known to sympathize with the Prince’s cause. Some years before he had abducted, or eloped with, the young widow of Ranald MacDonald of Milton in South Uist, and his stepdaughter, Flora MacDonald, was living with her brother at Milton. The message which he sent to the Prince contained a warning that, since the Government forces knew him to be concealed in the Outer Hebrides, it was hopeless to try and elude them, and offered a suggestion of an escape to Skye, where Lady Margaret would receive him in her husband’s absence. The plan was that Hugh MacDonald should give his stepdaughter a pass or safe-conduct to her mother’s house in Skye, that the Prince should be disguised as her maid, and that Neil Maceachain should accompany them as a servant.
When Charles, with Captain O’Neil and Neil Maceachain, was in hiding on the top of one of the mountains overlooking Loch Boisdale, this scheme recurred to his mind, and, on 21st June, the three walked to within a short distance of a shieling where Flora MacDonald and her brother were tending their cattle. That evening the Prince, who had just parted with his faithful Pilot and with Ned Burke, had his first interview with the brave girl whose name was to be so honourably linked with his own. He himself told her of her stepfather’s proposal, and she answered that she would gladly take the risk. It had to be then or never, and Flora set out at once for Benbecula to arrange matters with her stepfather and to procure a disguise from Lady Clanranald, while the Prince and his two followers found shelter in the hills near his old quarters at Coradale. Next day, the impatient Prince sent Neil Maceachain to Benbecula to bring back a report; but when he came to the fords between South Uist and Benbecula, he found that they were closely guarded at low tide, when alone they are passable. Flora MacDonald had met with the same difficulty the preceding day, and each of them asked to be taken to the captain of the company, who was Hugh MacDonald. Neil found Flora breakfasting with her stepfather, and they arranged that Neil and the Prince should meet her at Rossinish. The difficulty was to bring him there; they dared not risk an attempt to pass by the fords. But Neil was lucky enough to find some fishermen whom he knew, and they ferried the Prince and Captain O’Neil and himself to the coast of Benbecula, in the darkness, and left them on a tidal island, much to the alarm of the Prince, who awoke from a sound sleep to find himself upon a small rock surrounded by water.
At low tide they made their way to the shore, and after a cold wet night in the heather, set out for Rossinish in a wild storm of wind and rain. Walking was very difficult, and the exhausted Prince was constantly falling into holes concealed by the heather or losing his shoes in the bogs. At last they reached the rendezvous, and Neil went on to reconnoitre. He did not find Flora or Lady Clanranald, and he was informed that twenty of the Skye militiamen were in a tent about a quarter of a mile away. There seemed nothing for it but another night in the heather, but they found shelter at some little distance, in a house belonging to a tenant of Clanranald. At dawn their hostess turned them out because she knew the militiamen were coming to buy milk, and they hid themselves under a rock by the shore. The rain never ceased, and they thought that all the windows of heaven had been broken open. The rock was an insufficient protection, and a swarm of midges settled upon the Prince’s face and hands, inflicting such misery that he cried out in his pain and despair. At last, they were told that the militia had gone; they returned to a warm room and a bright fire; the Prince hung up his clothes to dry, sat at the fireside in his shirt “as merry and hearty as if he was in the best room at Whitehall,” and slept contentedly upon the door, which was taken down and covered with a ragged sail to make a bed for him.
Two days later, on the evening of 27th June, Flora MacDonald arrived with her brother and Lady Clanranald and Captain O’Neil, who had gone in search of the ladies. They sat down to a good supper, but had scarcely begun when a herd rushed breathlessly into the room and told them that General Campbell was landing his men three miles away. In a few minutes they were in the boat, and they spent the night crossing Loch Uskavagh and finished their supper on the other side at five o’clock in the morning. Lady Clanranald then returned to Benbecula to plead with General Campbell to spare her home. Flora’s brother went with her, and Flora insisted that Captain O’Neil should accompany them. She disliked the attentions he paid her, and she knew that his presence would draw fresh suspicion upon her little company, which was to consist of the Prince, Neil Maceachain, and herself. Her stepfather’s passport was for herself and her servant, and for a woman named Betty Burke, an expert with the spinning-wheel. As an additional precaution, Hugh MacDonald had furnished her with a letter to his wife, saying that Betty’s services should be secured for the spinning of a large quantity of lint which was in the house at Armadale.
Before Lady Clanranald left, she, with Flora MacDonald’s help, dressed the Prince in the clothes they had prepared for him. He laughed and the lady wept as they clad him in the coarse garb of a gentlewoman’s servant — a light-coloured quilted petticoat, a flowered calico gown, a white apron, and a long dark cloak made of the rough homespun known as camlet. The head-dress was large enough to cover his whole head and face. Charles was much amused by the apron, and kept telling them not to forget it.
At eight o’clock on the evening of 28th June, Flora, with Betty Burke and Neil Maceachain, set sail from Benbecula for Skye. The sea was rough, but the Prince was in great spirits, and he sang the Cavalier songs which told of the Restoration of his great-uncle, Charles II.—”The Twenty-ninth of May” and “The King shall Enjoy his Own Again.” Flora MacDonald fell asleep, and he kept guard lest any of the boatmen should stumble over her in the darkness.
III
IN SKYE
Next morning they were off the coast of Skye with a heavy gale in their faces. They were about to land at the point of Waternish, when they saw two sentries, one of whom ordered them to stop. They rowed out to sea as fast as they could; he fired and missed them, and his companion went off to give the alarm. Fifteen men came up, and two boats were lying ready. Pursuit and capture seemed inevitable, for the Prince had no arms, but the soldiers were content with walking along the shore and watching the direction taken by the little boat, and, after hiding in a creek, Flora and her companions landed undisturbed at Kilbride, in Troternish, near Monkstat, the house of Sir Alexander MacDonald of Sleat. The laird, as they knew, was with Cum
berland at Fort Augustus, but they were sure of help from Lady Margaret.
Flora Macdonald took Neil with her to Monkstat, and left the Prince in the boat. The boatmen were instructed, if any inquiry should be made about the person in the boat, to answer that it was a maid of Miss MacDonald’s, a lazy jade who would not follow her mistress. At Monkstat Flora obtained a private interview with Lady Margaret, and found that there were two guests in the house — MacDonald of Kingsburgh, Sir Alexander’s factor or land agent, and Lieutenant Alexander MacLeod, who was in command of the party which had so nearly caught the Prince. Lady Margaret sent for Kingsburgh and told him the story. It was impossible to risk a meeting between Betty Burke and Lieutenant MacLeod, and he promised to take the Prince to his own house at Kingsburgh. Neil was sent to convoy the Prince from the boat to a hill a mile from Monkstat, and a bundle of clothes was prepared in order that Betty Burke might be seen to carry her mistress’s baggage. They reached the trysting-place in safety, and the Prince sent Neil back to the boat for a case of knives which would have aroused suspicion if it had been found by the enemy. Neil reluctantly left him within a gun-shot of the highroad, and returned to find that Kingsburgh had brought him wine and biscuits. He had tracked him through noticing a number of sheep running away as if alarmed by a stranger, a hint which, fortunately, was not taken by any of the soldiers who were moving about.
Lady Margaret’s problem was to lull any suspicions of her other guest, and for this purpose Flora MacDonald dined at Monkstat, and had a conversation with Lieutenant MacLeod, who was anxious to know if, in her journey from Benbecula, she had heard anything about the movements of Charles Edward. She gave discreet answers to his inquiries, and, in his presence, Lady Margaret strongly opposed the suggestion that Flora should go home that night. She had often promised them a visit, and she must not leave them after a few hours. Flora begged to be excused; she was anxious to see her mother, and to be at home in these troublous times. Lady Margaret reluctantly yielded, but insisted on sending her own maid with her. Flora set out on horseback, and soon overtook Kingsburgh, Betty Burke, and Neil. Some of the neighbours followed her and were much interested in Betty. They remarked on the impudence with which she walked and talked with Kingsburgh, and were indignant that he should make a serving-woman his companion and pay no attention to her mistress. They observed her masculine walk, and were much shocked by the carelessness with which she raised her skirts when fording a stream. Neil pacified them by saying that she was an Irish girl, whom Miss Flora had picked up in Uist and had brought home because of her marvellous skill in spinning. At last they shook off their inquisitive companions, and the little party reached Kingsburgh House about midnight.
The mistress of the house had gone to bed, and was roused by the visit of an excited daughter, “O mother, my father has brought in such a very odd, muckle, ill-shaken-up wife as ever I saw!” Mrs. MacDonald went down and found Betty Burke traversing the hall with “wide, lang steps.” Her husband asked her to get some supper, and Betty Burke saluted her with a kiss from unshaven lips. Kingsburgh followed her and told her that they had the Prince as a guest. They agreed that it was a hanging matter, but resolved to die in a good cause, and the lady’s anxiety was diverted from the gallows by the difficulty of providing a supper fit for a prince. She brought him roasted eggs and bread and butter, and he drank two bottles of small beer and a bumper of brandy. Then he produced a cracked pipe which he had tied up with thread, and asked for tobacco, which Kingsburgh gave him — along with a new pipe.
In the morning the Prince slept late, and Flora and Kingsburgh took counsel together. They knew the amiable methods of the soldiery, and were sure that the boatmen, threatened with torture, would tell the story of Betty Burke. Though they were reluctant to disturb the Prince’s rest, it was necessary to get him away at once. They roused him and dressed him in his female attire, for it was obviously desirable that he should leave the house in his disguise, so that any information which leaked out through the servants might lead his pursuers to watch for a man in woman’s clothes. Before he left, Flora cut a lock from his hair, and his hostess gave him a silver snuff-box engraved with two clasped hands and the motto “Rob Gib.” Some days later the Prince noticed the motto, asked a companion what it meant, and was told that Rob Gib’s contract was stark love and kindness. “I will keep it all my life,” he said.
Kingsburgh accompanied him on his way, and, in a wood, Betty Burke changed into Highland dress, and “with a claymore in his hand he was a soger-like man indeed.” Bidding farewell to Kingsburgh with the words, “I am afraid I shall not meet another MacDonald in my difficulties,” he and Neil Maceachain walked to Portree under the guidance of a little boy. He left Kingsburgh just in time, for Monkstat and Kingsburgh House were soon searched by the fierce General Ferguson, who insulted Mrs. MacDonald and met her denials of the Prince’s presence with the remark that she had put the maid in a better room than her mistress. Cumberland was furious at the Prince’s escape, and ordered the arrest of Kingsburgh, who, he said, had neglected the greatest service which could have been done to King George. The Prince’s host spent twelve months in prison as the reward of one night’s hospitality.
At Kingsburgh Charles had again proposed to throw himself on the mercy of MacLeod, but had been persuaded to fall in with an arrangement made by Lady Margaret and Kingsburgh. One of Sir Alexander MacDonald’s clan, Donald Roy MacDonald, had been prevented by his chief from going to the Prince when he raised his standard, but had joined after the battle of Prestonpans, had been wounded in the foot at Culloden, and was hiding in a surgeon’s house in Troternish. It was agreed at Monkstat that Donald Roy MacDonald should meet the Prince at Portree, and arrange for his crossing to the island of Raasay under the protection of the Laird of Raasay.
While Charles was at Kingsburgh, Donald Roy succeeded in finding a son of the Laird of Raasay, known by the name of his father’s property of Rona, a neighbouring island. All the boats in Skye had been commandeered, and Rona had to take a crazy old boat which he found abandoned in a fresh-water loch, and to convey it to the sea, in order to obtain one of his father’s boats from Raasay. Before the Prince reached Portree on 30th June, Rona had returned accompanied by his brother, Murdoch MacLeod, and by a cousin, Captain Malcolm MacLeod. Flora MacDonald performed her last service to the Prince by riding to Portree to make sure of his reception, and the whole party — the Prince, Flora MacDonald, Neil Maceachain, Donald Roy MacDonald, and the three MacLeods — met at an inn. Charles purchased a quarter of a pound of tobacco, and Donald Roy had to insist upon his taking three halfpence brought him by the landlord as change for sixpence; but in spite of this warning of the danger of arousing suspicion by unheard-of liberality, he proposed later to be satisfied with eleven shillings as change for a guinea, the landlord not being able to produce more silver. Donald Roy checked him and got the guinea changed elsewhere.
They were to sail about midnight, and the Prince made his farewells. He had always treated Flora MacDonald with the greatest deference, and invariably rose when she entered the room, and he used to speak of her as “our Lady.” He kissed her — the usual salutation of the time. “For all that has happened,” he said, “I hope, madam, we shall meet in St. James’s yet.” Nine days had elapsed since they first met in the shieling in South Uist; for three days they had been fellow-wanderers. He was not destined to receive her at St. James’s, nor ever to see her again after their parting in the village inn, but a gracious recollection of “our Lady” can never have been obliterated by the sins and the sorrows of later years. She was again to meet a Prince of Wales, for, when she was a prisoner in London, the heir of George II. paid his respects to her and gave to history one of the few pleasant stories that are recorded of “Fred who was alive and is dead.” Four years later she married Kingsburgh’s son; she became the mother of many children; she entertained Dr. Johnson in the house to which she had brought Prince Charlie. Her adventures were not yet over, for, in the year after John
son’s visit, she and her husband emigrated to North Carolina, and she saw the fighting in the early campaigns of the American War. She returned to Skye and died at Kingsburgh in 1790, two years after “King Charles III.” had breathed his last at Rome. Those three June days when she was the Prince’s preserver have consecrated her name and her memory while courage and loyalty are deemed worthy of the reverence of mankind.
The Prince had still before him many weary wanderings. He bade good-bye that evening not only to Flora MacDonald, but also to Neil Maceachain, whom he sent to attend the Lady to her home. Donald Roy was lame and could not accompany him, and he was conducted by the two MacLeods, Murdoch and Malcolm; he went off with a bottle of whisky strapped to his belt at one side, and a bottle of brandy, some shirts, and a cold fowl on the other side. They reached Raasay safely; but the Prince thought the island too small for concealment, and during the short time they were there they were alarmed by a man whom the islanders suspected to be a spy. He came near their hut, and Malcolm MacLeod proposed to shoot him, but Charles forbade him, and the stranger passed on without looking in. The Prince insisted upon returning to Skye; he was not quite happy among the MacLeods and wished to be with Donald Roy again.
