by John Buchan
The military situation was not less promising. Of the former Covenant generals, Leven was too old, Baillie had been an Engager, and Hurry was now one of Montrose’s companions. Middleton was waiting to be persuaded. Only David Leslie remained, with his lieutenants Holbourn and Strachan; of these, Holbourn had been handsomely beaten at Kilsyth, and Strachan, an extreme sectary, was not trusted by his commanding officers. At the most they had 3,000 foot and 1,500 horse, strung out over a wide front in the northern Highlands. The estimate of what forces might be raised for the king in Scotland, which Montrose had sent to Henrietta by Crawford in the autumn of 1646, had exceeded 20,000. There were uncertain items, like the 1,000 who had been credited to Lord Nithsdale, the 2,000 to Macdonald of Sleat, the 1,500 to Huntly, and the 2,000 to Seaforth; but, putting all doubtful elements aside, it looked as if in the Highlands alone he could count on 10,000 men. Things had improved since the date of that estimate. The clan of Mackenzie had risen with Pluscardine, and might rise again, for their chief, the Queen of Bohemia’s “Highlander,” was apparently at last on the royalist side. There is no equivocal figure of that time but has found its defender — Huntly in Patrick Gordon, Hamilton in Burnet — and we have Seaforth’s defence in the simple pages of his clansman, Mackenzie of Applecross; but the best that the author can say is that Seaforth “in the beginning of the king’s troubles had not the light that was afterwards given him.” It might reasonably be assumed that now that light had been vouchsafed. The Engagers, at least the fighting element in them, were losing some of their hostility to Montrose. The new Hamilton was again declaring his willingness “to trail a pike or ride a private trooper under him.” The new Huntly, too, whom we have known as Lord Lewis Gordon, was reported to be waiting obediently on the king’s commands, though a little annoyed at not receiving the Garter. Again, if Montrose got one-half of the levies and supplies promised from the Continent, if he got one-quarter of the help hinted at from Ireland, he would be able to put into the field from 4,000 to 5,000 regular troops as well.
Leslie was in a poor position both for attack and defence, and defeat to him would mean annihilation. For Montrose to succeed, all that seemed essential was that he should have sufficient troops in the far north to win the first round. If that happened, he might count on the Macleods and the Mackenzies; probably, too, on the Gordons; and then the safety of his route to the south would be assured. Once in Badenoch, he had all the loyal levies of the west and of Atholl to draw upon, and with the Lowlands divided it was hard to see what could prevent him from dominating Scotland. Then he could cross the Border and appeal to the royalists and the English moderates, not like the luckless Hamilton with an insolent dogma of Presbyterian ascendancy, but with a wise recognition of national rights, a generous policy of toleration, and that constitutional creed of his which John Hampden would not have scrupled to subscribe. We know to-day how little hold the army of the Commonwealth had upon the affection of the English people. Of the two leaders, Montrose was not the inferior in military genius, and if, with 20,000 Highland and foreign foot and Lowland horse, and with England’s goodwill, he had met Cromwell on his return from Ireland somewhere south of Trent, the odds are that the Restoration would have been antedated by ten years.
Dis aliter visum; rightly, perhaps, for Cromwell had still much to give to the world. As it chanced, every condition of success was to fail. Montrose had far too few foreign troops. The local clans did not rise in his support, and there was no sign of movement in the Lowlands. The king’s letter, and the news that negotiations were on foot between him and the Estates, had done their work. Men were weary of fighting, and half-hearted in any cause. The satiety which attended the Restoration was beginning. Let them be shown a way of peace and they would acclaim it, but meantime it was the duty of wise folk to stay at home. The Covenanting régime was becoming so intolerable to every class that, had there been no alternative, many might have grasped at Montrose’s way of deliverance; but, since an alternative was openly held before the nation by the king his master, the cautious man let his sword sleep in the thatch and hoped for a quiet life.
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The king might handicap him and stultify his mission, but Montrose was true to himself. For him there could be no turning back on this side the grave, for he had been to the edge of the world and looked over the other side. The “waft of death” had gone out against him, and all his doings have a touch of the unearthly. He devised strange standards, like those which, in Bunyan’s Holy War, Emmanuel and Diabolus used in their battle for Mansoul. His foot bore on a black ground the bleeding head of the dead king, with the words Deo et Victricibus Armis. The cavalry colours, too, were black, with three pairs of clasped hands holding three drawn swords, and the legend Quos Pietas Virtus et Honor fecit Amicos. His own flag was of white damask, with two steep rocks and a river between, and a lion about to leap from one to the other. His motto was Nil Medium. He was putting it to the touch, as he had sung, “to win or lose it all.” There is an air of doom and desperation in everything, as of some dark saga of the north.
1650 April
The early days of April were spent at Kirkwall in marshalling his little forces. There were four or five hundred Danish troops already there. The Orcadians, then very far from being a warlike people, were strong on the king’s side, and raised 1,000 men. With Montrose were a number of cavaliers and soldiers of fortune: Lord Frendraught, Sutherland’s nephew and his old opponent at Aberdeen; veterans of the German wars like Sir William Johnston and Colonel Thomas Gray; his half-brother, Harry Graham; Sir John Hurry, now twice a turncoat; Sir James Douglas, a brother of Morton; William Hay, the new Kinnoull; Sir Francis Hay of Dalgetty, Drummond of Balloch, Ogilvy of Powrie, and Menzies of Pitfoddels; and one or two English royalists, like that Major Lisle who had left Scotland with him in September 1646. These gentlemen were mounted and made up the whole cavalry of the force, probably some 40 or 50 in all. Hurry was dispatched in advance with a picked band of 500 men, to look into the chances of a landing on the mainland. He found no difficulty, and, hastening on past Wick and Dunbeath, secured the Ord of Caithness — the narrow pass on the shore through which ran the road to the south.
Montrose, with the rest of his army, crossed the Pentland Firth in fishing-boats about the 12th of April. There was little chance of recruiting in Caithness, but some of the gentry, who were partisans of the Reay interest, joined his standard. It was his business, seeing that his forces were so inadequate, to push on with the greatest possible speed, so as to pass the low coastlands and reach the shelter of the hills, where the Covenant horse could do him no harm and reinforcements could be awaited. Leslie held the castles of Brahan, Chanonry, Eilandonan, and Cromarty; and the Earl of Sutherland, who was hot for the Covenant, garrisoned Dunrobin, Skibo, and Dornoch — all key-points on the coast road. But Montrose had not hitherto been wont to trouble about fortresses in his rear. If he marched with his old speed, another week should find him in Badenoch.
At first his movements were swift enough. Landing near John o’ Groats, he dashed upon Thurso, and the local lairds, except the Sinclairs, took the oath of allegiance. Leaving Harry Graham with 200 men to keep them to their word, he marched south over the Caithness moors to Sir John Sinclair’s castle of Dunbeath, took it after a few days’ siege, and left a garrison. He had something less than 800 men when he joined Hurry at the Ord of Caithness. Two days later he reached Sutherland’s castle of Dunrobin, which he summoned; admission was denied, and the place was too strong to take, but another day was wasted, and some of his men, who had incautiously ventured between the castle and the sea, were made prisoners.
The Campaign of Carbisdale
Now began the fatal delay. There was no need to diminish his tiny army by leaving garrisons behind him. Orkney was not a base the communications with which it was necessary to guard; he had still to reach his true base, which was the central Highlands. His business was not to waste an hour in getting to Badenoch. But he may have felt hims
elf too weak to face the garrisons of the Dornoch lowlands, and he was in strong hopes of reinforcements from the north-west. So he turned inland up the glen of the Fleet — the route taken to-day by the railway — and moved past Rhaoine to Lairg, at the foot of Loch Shin. It was now the 23rd of April. To reach the south he must cross or turn the long inlet known as the Kyle of Sutherland; the shortest way was down the Shin, but the winter had been severe and the fords were bad, so he preferred to cross the hills to Rosehall in Strath Oykell. Thence he moved down the right bank of the Oykell, reaching the Kyle early on the 25th. He was expecting hourly a great accession of Mackenzies from the west, and he hoped for recruits from the Monroes and Rosses south of the Dornoch Firth. He believed that he need fear no immediate opposition, and that there was in all Ross but one troop of enemy horse.
Meantime Leslie was hurrying north to a rendezvous at Brechin, which he had appointed for the 25th of April. He had instructed Strachan and Halket, who commanded the Covenant troops in Moray, to do their best to delay Montrose’s advance; so Strachan, with the garrisons of Brahan and Chanonry, went north to Tain, where he was joined by other Covenant posts. He had five troops of horse — 220 men in all; 36 musketeers of Lawers’s regiment, and a reserve of 400 Monroes and Rosses whom Montrose had vainly hoped to attach to his standard. Lord Sutherland was sent north of the Kyle to oppose Harry Graham, and cut off the way of retreat in that direction.
On Saturday, the 27th of April, Strachan marched west from Tain to a place called Wester Fearn, on the southern shore of the Kyle, a few miles south-east of Bonar Bridge and the mouth of the river Carron. Leslie only left Brechin the same day. Montrose had meantime encamped at a spot about five miles off near the head of the Kyle, under the lee of the steep hill of Craigcoinichean. It was covered with a light undergrowth, and in front was a piece of more or less level ground, with the tarn of Carbisdale at the north end, and to the south-east the deep-cut channel of the Culvain burn. He had the hill to guard his rear, the Culvain burn on one flank and the Kyle on the other, and to defend his front towards the Carron mouth a line of trenches and breastworks had been erected. Already Montrose had occupied the position for two days, waiting for the local clans, notably the Mackenzies. Had he pushed on, he might have crossed by the hill road to Alness, and have easily given Strachan the slip. After that, in another two days he could have passed Beauly and been on his old secret road to the Spey. As it was, he had found a strong position, if he chose to stay by it, for no cavalry could force the pass of Craigcoinichean, and he commanded the shore road down the Kyle by which his own scouts could bring him early intelligence of any enemy advance. He had found that, but nothing more, and meantime the precious hours were flying.
Strachan reached Wester Fearn about three in the afternoon of the 27th. He knew from his scouts where the royalists lay, and he knew their weakness in numbers. It was his business to draw them down from the hill to the flat ground, where his cavalry could act. Accordingly he concealed most of his horse among the long broom which covered the slopes about Wester Fearn. The contingent of Monroes and Rosses made a circuit up Strath Carron to a point on the heights above Carbisdale, where they awaited the issue. Like Rob Roy at Sheriffmuir, their heart was not in the fight, and they waited to see how the day went before sharing in it. Strachan then advanced a single troop up the coast till he had passed the Carron.
Major Lisle, who commanded Montrose’s 40 horse, was sent to reconnoitre, and returned with information of the single troop. One of the gentleman volunteers, Monro of Achnes, repeated the assurance which Montrose had already received — that there was but one troop of horse in all the shire, and that he saw it before him. Montrose ordered Lisle to halt, and gave the word to the foot to advance. Meantime Strachan was bringing up the rest of his force from Wester Fearn. As soon as the royalists were on the low ground they could see nothing of his movements, and in the cover of the broom and the wildwood the whole Covenant cavalry crossed the Carron.
Suddenly upon Lisle’s 40 horse Strachan dashed with 100 of his dragoons. Instantly there appeared a second troop under Halket, and then the reserves and the musketeers. Lisle was driven backward upon the foot, who were not deployed for battle and were easily cast into confusion. They cannot have been more than 1,200 in all — 400 Danes and Germans, and the rest the raw Orkney levies. The foreigners were not accustomed to receive a cavalry charge unsupported, and the Orcadians had probably never seen a dragoon in their lives. They fell back in disorder, and Montrose saw that his one chance was to regain the safety of the Craigcoinichean entrenchments. At Dundee, once before, he had done the same thing under greater difficulties; but then his force had been of a different quality. Had he had his 500 gallant Irish the day would have been saved, but they had long been below the turf of Slain-Man’s-Lee. The mercenaries retreated in some order, but the hapless islanders, farm-boys and fisher-folk unused to war, fled without a blow. Upon the fugitives came Strachan’s reserves, and Lisle’s handful of cavalry, in attempting to cover their retreat, was cut to pieces. There fell Lisle himself, Menzies of Pitfoddels, who bore the royal standard, Douglas and Guthrie and Ogilvy of Powrie. Soon the broken remnant of the royalists, a few hundreds at the most, was making its last stand on the wooded slopes of Craigcoinichean.
Down from the hills came the Monroes and the Rosses, convinced at last, to take their share of the victory. The Orkney men were drowned in hundreds trying to cross the Kyle, or were cut down in the haugh. Not a family in the islands but lost a son or a brother. Presently the fire from the woods slackened, and the royalists, making for the higher slopes across the open, were shot or stabbed by the horse. Hurry was captured, and with him 58 officers and nearly 400 men. Montrose had his horse shot under him. It was Philiphaugh repeated, and once more he was prevented from finding the death which he desired in battle. Frendraught, himself spent with wounds, forced him upon his own horse, and bade him remember his duty to the king’s cause. In the late spring gloaming the viceroy of Scotland, accompanied by two of the Sinclair gentry, turned his face from the lost field toward the trackless wildernesses of the west.
He flung away his sword-belt and coat with the star of the Garter that he might escape recognition, and on Frendraught’s horse swam the tidal waters of the Oykell. Then he discarded the horse and managed to buy or borrow some rough Highland clothes. Strath Oykell was no place for a mounted man. There were two courses before him: to get into Strathnaver, and so reach Harry Graham at Thurso, and finally pass into Orkney; or to make for the friendly Reay country in the north-west. For the first he must reach Loch Shin and travel by Glen Tirry; for the second his route lay by Loch Shin or by Glen Cassley, and then by Loch More and the Laxford. But he had no knowledge of the country, nor had either of the Sinclairs, one of whom was an Orcadian and the other of Brims in Caithness; and they missed their way among the darkening hills. Instead of going north they wandered due west up the Oykell.
For two days and two nights they were without food and shelter. There were few houses in that land, and no roads; it had been a backward year, and the snow was still far down on the slopes, the bogs were full, and every stream was an icy torrent. With starving and hunted men the sense of direction soon disappears, one stretch of sodden bent is like another, and presently the hills lose their features and become a mere blur to the wearied eye. Somehow the three struggled over the watershed, where the streams began to flow to the Atlantic. It is possible that they believed that they were twenty miles farther north and beginning the descent towards Scourie. But they were now in desperate case for food, and they resolved to separate and take different roads on the chance of stumbling on help. Sir Edward Sinclair, the Orcadian, was never heard of again; somewhere in the wilderness he died of famine, and only the foxes and the eagles could tell of his end. On the third day Montrose was given bread and milk at the shieling of Glaschyle. His enemies were already beating the glens, and a party reached the hut while Montrose was indoors, but he was hidden by the shepherd under
a trough. On departing, he regretted that he had put his host in danger, and “determined never to do the like again to avoid death, of which, he thanked God, he was not afraid.” He was now some thirty miles from the scene of the battle.
1650 May
But the hue-and-cry was out against him. The laird of Assynt was a certain Neil Macleod, a young man of twenty-two and a member of a sept, the “seed of John the Grizzled,” with a dark record for deeds of blood. He had married a daughter of Monro of Lemlair, whom Montrose had hitherto looked upon as an ally, and he had himself been protected by Seaforth, and seems to have passed for something of a royalist. His brother-in-law sent him a letter bidding him search his country for fugitives, and “chiefly James Graham,” and Neil was no laggard in the business. One of his men found the famished wanderer on the confines of Assynt, and Montrose, when he heard his master’s name, probably asked to be taken to him. He thought that he had much to hope for from a Macleod and a son-in-law of Lemlair. On the evening of the 30th of April he was brought to the castle of Ardvreck, which still stands on the northern shore of Loch Assynt. There he found Neil, and there he met, too, the surviving Sinclair, who had been brought in by Neil’s gillies. But from Assynt he got no kindness. The head of the viceroy was worth sufficient gold to set up for good his impoverished family. Montrose asked to be sent to Orkney, and offered him money, but Neil was resolute, knowing well that the Estates would outbid the fugitive. He dispatched an express with the happy news to Leslie, who had now arrived at Tain, and confined the prisoners in the cellars of his castle. A few days later, on the 4th of May, Holbourn arrived at Ardvreck, and Montrose was committed to his hands.
