God's Highlander

by Thompson, E. V.

  Pandemonium broke out beside the burning cot. One of the Irish soldiers leaped at Lachlan Munro. Even as Wyatt shouted at him, he lunged forward with his musket and the long spike-like bayonet passed right through the sick man’s frail body.

  Lachlan Munro sat down heavily, still spitted on the soldier’s bayonet. The soldier pulled it free with some difficulty, and as Lachlan Munro slipped sideways to the ground the soldier raised his musket to bayonet him again. Wyatt ran to his aid, but Ewan Munro was quicker. Darting beneath the threatening bayonets of the other soldiers, Lachlan Munro’s young son cannoned into his father’s attacker and knocked him off balance.

  Another soldier went to the aid of his colleague, but suddenly the line of soldiers broke before the combined weight of the dispossessed Kilmalie cottars and the Loch Eil fishermen. As Wyatt knocked down the soldier who was about to strike Ewan Munro, a shot was fired from near at hand. Wyatt heard the booming voice of the Irish sergeant calling for his men to rally around him – and then he heard nothing more as a rifle-butt slammed against the side of his head. Wyatt slumped to the ground where he was trampled by the feet of soldiers and Highlanders.

  A number of those in the crowd saw Wyatt knocked to the ground, and two of them fought their way towards him. Mairi reached him first and she crouched above him, doing her best to protect him from the feet of the brawling, shouting men all about them.

  Alasdair Burns was less successful. Throwing soldiers clear as he met with them, he had almost gained his fallen friend when he was confronted by a soldier as large as himself. The soldier’s bayonet-thrust was avoided easily enough, but the backward swing of the musket knocked the schoolteacher off balance.

  Self-preservation was now uppermost in Alasdair Burns’s mind, and he grasped the soldier about the waist, pulling him to the ground. As the two men rolled over, wrestling, the sergeant shouted for his men to ‘arrest the one-legged troublemaker’.

  His order was obeyed by a soldier who set about subduing Alasdair Burns with the butt of his musket.

  Until this happened Evangeline had remained a horrified onlooker, but as the soldier continued to rain blows upon Alasdair Burns she leaped to his rescue.

  Evangeline prevented further injury to Alasdair Burns, but the sergeant who was skilfully withdrawing his party from the affray shouted at his men to bring her and Alasdair Burns with them.

  Forty-six

  WHEN WYATT REGAINED consciousness he was unable immediately to distinguish between the roaring inside his own head and the sound of the wind-fed flames noisily consuming the thatch of the cot. As he sat up he winced with pain, and Mairi’s arm went about him.

  ‘Thank the Lord you’re all right. You’ve been unconscious for so long I thought they might have broken your head.’

  Wyatt only just stopped himself in time from shaking his head – and then he remembered how he had acquired the pain. He looked about him. He could see many people in the swirling smoke, but none wore a uniform.

  ‘Where are the soldiers … and Lachlan?’ Wyatt struggled to rise, although his head felt as heavy as a mortar-shell.

  ‘The soldier’s bayonet must have pierced his lung. He’s a dying man. They’ve laid him over there, away from the smoke.’ Mairi pointed to where a group of Highlanders were gathered on the lee side of the cot.

  Wyatt made his way shakily towards them, and they stood back respectfully to allow him through. Lachlan lay on the bare trampled earth. Elsa Munro was on her knees beside him, weeping silently as she held one of her husband’s hands in her own, patting it abstractedly. The Munro girls stood in a pathetic line nearby, also crying. Ewan Munro was the only tear-free face in the family, although there was enough anguish in his expression for all of them.

  Wyatt dropped to one knee beside the ex-soldier, and the man who had endured so much pain managed the semblance of a weak smile. Lachlan Munro also tried to speak, but Wyatt needed to put his ear within an inch of the other man’s lips in order to hear what he had to say.

  ‘This is a better way to go … Captain. A man’s way.’

  ‘It’s a good man’s way, Lachlan. A courageous man. You’ve never been short of courage. The Lord has a special place in heaven for brave men.’

  Lachlan Munro wanted to speak again, and Wyatt’s ear brushed the dying man’s lips.

  ‘It’s been a good life, Captain….’

  Without moving his head, Wyatt’s eyes took in the ex-soldier’s ragged children and the house that had been derelict before Lachlan Munro was given the tenancy for his last, pain-filled year. Yet he could speak of ‘a good life.’

  ‘Ewan … I must speak to Ewan.’ The blood was bubbling in Lachlan Munro’s throat now, and Wyatt signalled urgently for Ewan to come and take his place.

  The boy kneeled at his father’s side for perhaps two minutes, his ear close enough to catch the dying man’s last words. Then a great shudder ran through Lachlan Munro’s body and all pain left him.

  Elsa Munro let out a great wail of anguish, and Mairi went to her. Ewan Munro stood up, still looking down at his father, and for a moment it seemed he, too, must break down and cry. Wyatt held out his arms to the boy, and for a while Ewan clung to him. Then he pushed himself away and squared his shoulders with a conscious effort.

  ‘I’ll go to the girls now. They’ll need comforting. As Pa told me, I’m the man in the Munro family now.’

  Wyatt watched as the young boy went to his five young sisters and encompassed them in his arms. Then he realised one of the cottars was speaking to him, and he turned to face the man.

  ‘What will you be doing about the teacher and the Garrett girl? She’s not a bad lass, for all she has the factor’s blood in her veins.’

  Wyatt looked about him, and for the first time realised Alasdair Burns and Evangeline were nowhere to be seen.

  Elsa Munro had gone to her children, and Mairi guessed for whom Wyatt was looking.

  ‘They’ve been taken by the Army. Alasdair tried to help you when you were knocked down. Then Evangeline became involved, and the soldiers took them both away.’

  ‘Took them where?’ Suddenly Wyatt’s head was hurting more than ever.

  ‘I don’t know. Fort William, I suppose.’

  ‘I must go and arrange their release.’ Wyatt felt confused. ‘How long ago did all this happen?’

  ‘Half an hour, perhaps longer. So much has happened.’ Mairi looked at his face, and she was concerned by what she saw. Wyatt was like a man in a dream. ‘You’d better sit down. You look awful.’

  ‘Was anyone else arrested?’

  ‘No, but at least four were hurt. One of the fishermen was shot through an ear. He bled a lot, but it’s not serious.’

  ‘The others… ?’ The two words cost Wyatt considerable effort. The world seemed to be see-sawing away from him.

  ‘Bruises in the main. But you’re not all right, are you? You’d better sit down. Here … quickly!’

  Mairi shouted the last word as Wyatt swayed and would have fallen had she not held on to him, helped by one of the Loch Eil fishermen who had been standing nearby.

  ‘Sit him down here.’ With the fisherman supporting him, Mairi struggled to guide Wyatt to a rough-stone seat set against the garden wall. She was very concerned, believing the blows he had taken might have seriously harmed him. As she released her hold, a Highland woman came across to offer help. Without waiting for an answer she slapped Wyatt’s face repeatedly.

  Failing to achieve any response, the woman grasped Wyatt’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was not clear whether or not she found it, but after about half a minute she dropped the hand carelessly, then lifted each of Wyatt’s eyelids in turn.

  ‘He’ll be all right, hen,’ she said to Mairi. ‘The blow from the Irishman’s gun must have bruised his brain, and it’s swelled up in his head. When it’s gone down again he’ll be as right as rain.’

  Mairi wished she felt as confident, but a few minutes later Wyatt recovered consciousness once more. He se
emed a little vague, but declared nothing was wrong with him. As if to prove his point, he made arrangements for the Munro family to be brought to Eskaig, together with the body of Lachlan Munro.

  Clouds were building up in the west. All the signs were that when the wind dropped the rain would come. He had to go to Fort William first, and then he needed to make Eneas Ross see sense. It was a task that had been made very much more difficult by the killing of Lachlan Munro.

  By the time the small procession reached Eskaig it had formed itself into a funeral cortege. Wyatt learned that things had been happening here, too. The disposed tenants and cottars occupying school-house and churchyard were in a state of turmoil. Many of the temporary shelters had been broken up. In the schoolhouse there was now space, where only that morning men, women and children had jostled for elbow room. Even more puzzling to Wyatt was the small stream of Highlanders heading along the road that led to Corpach and Fort William. They carried with them the few meagre possessions they had brought from the mountains.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Wyatt confronted a family of man, wife and five young children, none of the children more than seven years of age. They had come to Eskaig from a lonely cot, deep in the mountains, one of the first families to be evicted in this latest series of clearances.

  ‘The factor’s been here while you were away. He told us there’ll never again be a place for us in the Highlands. He’s arranged for two ships to be at Fort William to take us to Canada. The first is boarding now and leaves in a day or two. The other is due in a few weeks. There’s a free passage and five pounds in cash for every family who accepts his offer. We’re taking it.’

  ‘What will you and the others do in Canada? Think about it, man. You’ve seven mouths to feed. Five pounds will last you no time at all. What will you do when it’s gone?’

  ‘Factor Garrett says there’s free land for the asking in Canada.’ The man shrugged. ‘What have we to lose, Minister Jamieson? You’ve worked hard to give us food and warmth here, but there are three times as many Highlanders still in the mountains. You can’t support us all. And what will happen when we’re drummed off Eskaig land? You’re right, five pounds won’t last long – but until it’s gone we’ll have hope. There’s precious little of that here.’

  ‘Have you inspected the ships? How large are they? What condition are they in?’ There was desperation in Wyatt’s voice. ‘I’ve seen emigrant-ships. I wouldn’t travel in one as far as the Islands, yet you’re trusting them with your life and the lives of your family on a voyage that will take weeks – months even. Think about it. For the sake of your family, think about it.’

  Wyatt’s plea went unheeded, ‘I’ve done all the thinking that’s necessary, Minister. There’s nothing for us here any more. Look, there are your clansmen of the future.’

  As though it had been arranged to mock the Highlanders, a huge flock of sheep was being driven from Corpach, forcing the departing refugees off the road, some to higher ground, others to the rock-strewn shore of the loch.

  Another man, one of the family of the centenarian Wyatt had buried in the Eskaig churchyard, came to stand beside Wyatt as the sheep approached. ‘He’s right, Minister. They’re the new laird’s clansmen. They’ll serve him as well as we ever did. He’ll drive them where he wants. They’ll bleed for him, die for him – and he’ll end up with money in his pocket earned by their suffering. There’s no difference between us at all.’

  Wyatt had hoped to bury Lachlan Munro that same day, but Elsa Munro was deeply distressed at such haste. She declared tearfully that Lachlan had been stripped of all pride and dignity in the latter years of his life. She wanted her courageous husband laid in his grave with all the rights due to him. She wanted him to ‘lie in’, so that all those who had known him could come and pay their last respects to the former Highland soldier. She also wanted him buried in a wooden coffin, although she was less certain where the money would come from.

  Wyatt said he would pay for the coffin, and when one of the Free Church elders offered his house for the ‘lying in’ Wyatt agreed to put off the ceremony for a day or two. It made a lot of sense. Far more important at the moment were the problems of the living – Alasdair Burns and Evangeline Garrett in particular. He also wanted to inspect the emigrant-ship and distribute some of the money left to him by Lord Kilmalie to the emigrating Highlanders. He must also make yet another attempt to speak to John Garrett.

  Mairi had been watching Wyatt as he spoke to Elsa Munro and the elder. His pale face and abstracted manner concerned her. When Wyatt went inside the schoolhouse prior to setting off to learn what had happened to the two schoolteachers, she followed him.

  ‘Are you certain you’re well enough to go to Fort William? At least leave it until morning….’

  ‘Too much can happen overnight in a prison. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘Then, I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No!’ It sounded too abrupt, too sharp, and Mairi showed her hurt. ‘I’m grateful to you, Mairi. Had you not been with me, I, too, might be in the Fort William tolbooth now.’ Putting his hands on her shoulders, he said: ‘I want you to go home. Tell your father the Irish have tasted Scots blood and they’ll be out for more. He and his friends must do nothing to give them an excuse to attack Highlanders again. Tell him I’m speaking now as a former army captain, not as a minister of the Church. We must do everything we can to cool things down.’

  Wyatt gripped Mairi’s shoulders more tightly. ‘Meanwhile, you stay close to your home, you understand? There’s to be no thought of going to the shielings. If you’re still living in the mountains when this trouble is over, there’ll be no shortage of grazing. If not … well, the sheep will have eaten all the grass in the shielings anyway. Do you promise me you’ll do nothing foolish?’

  Mairi nodded her agreement.

  There were people about them, and Wyatt was able to give her only the briefest of kisses. ‘Take care, Mairi. I want us to be married – and soon.’

  ‘You take care too, Wyatt. And don’t trust the factor.’

  Wyatt remembered Mairi’s words as he neared the Garrett house on the Corpach and Fort William road. Nevertheless he turned into the long tree-lined drive and went to the house to speak to John Garrett.

  The Kilmalie factor was not at home. Charlotte Garrett took him to the sitting-room and insisted he take tea with her before continuing his journey to Fort William.

  Charlotte Garrett looked better than he had ever seen her, but Wyatt told her nothing of Evangeline’s arrest; her sanity was far too precariously balanced. John Garrett was expected home that evening, and Wyatt left word he was on his way to Fort William on a most urgent matter. He suggested the factor should join him there without delay.

  Charlotte Garrett was intrigued by Wyatt’s secrecy, but when her questions were evaded she made no attempt to press him. She promised to pass on his message to her husband as soon as he returned home.

  Forty-seven

  John Garrett caught up with Wyatt in Fort William, only a few hundred yards from the tolbooth, the town’s formidable stone-built administrative centre and gaol.

  The factor’s horse was hot and lathered. John Garrett had ridden up to his Corpach home and left again immediately upon receiving Wyatt’s message. It was not because the factor believed the Eskaig minister had anything of importance to tell him. Garrett welcomed any excuse that would take him to Fort William.

  ‘I’ve been told you need to see me “urgently”, Jamieson. What is it – are you wanting to emigrate, too? Or have you decided to return to the real church? Whatever it is had better be important, or I’ll have you charged for the weight I’ve run off my horse.’

  ‘What do you call important, Garrett? A sick man killed by the soldiers who served your clearance order? His wife and six young children left without a father? Or news that your daughter’s been arrested because she couldn’t stand by and do nothing while Irish soldiers broke Scots heads?’

  ‘What are you talki
ng about? Evangeline isn’t mixed up in any of this – unless it’s your doing. Where is she?’

  ‘That’s what I’m here to find out.’ Wyatt nodded towards the great grim tolbooth. ‘My guess is she’s in there.’

  John Garrett’s face registered horror as his gaze went from Wyatt to the tolbooth, and back again.

  ‘You’d better be wrong, Jamieson. If Evangeline’s been arrested, it will be due to your influence. You and that Glasgow rabble-rouser you’ve got in to teach school. I told her she should never have involved herself with Eskaig. Perhaps she’ll be ready to listen to me now.’

  ‘Will you listen to me and end the misery, heartbreak – yes, and murder resulting from your clearances? Bring them to a halt, Garrett. If you continue, there’s going to be bloodshed in these mountains on a scale not seen since Cumberland’s men set out to exterminate the Highlander.’

  ‘Had Cumberland carried out his duties properly, I wouldn’t have to be clearing Kilmalie land today. I’ve made the tenants a generous offer. Free passage to a new life and five pounds in their pockets when they get there. If you’re so damned concerned about them, you’ll make certain they go – and travel with them yourself.’

  ‘Five pounds to compensate for all you and the soldiers have burned? That’s generous? Even at the height of the Sutherland clearances the tenants were being given twenty-five pounds for new roof-timbers – and time to remove possessions and livestock.’

  A peculiar expression crossed John Garrett’s face, and in that moment Wyatt knew the truth. ‘You’ve been given money to compensate dispossessed tenants – probably by the late Lord Kilmalie. It’s the sort of thing he’d do; he was a generous man. How much did he give you, Garrett? What should the Highlanders be getting?’

  ‘Go to hell, Jamieson! Better still, sail away to Canada with your own kind. You’ve no church, no status – and by the time winter comes there will be no one left to hear you preach. Get out before you lose everything and have nowhere to go.’