General Lindsay had spent a lifetime in the Army. He had retired to Scotland and purchased the lands at Letterfinlay. Wyatt knew of Coll Kennedy’s reticence in talking of his family and had taken a gamble that the fiery old army man knew nothing of Coll Kennedy’s family connections.
The gamble paid off.
‘Eh? What are you talking about? I’m speaking of Minister Kennedy who was preacher at my church in Letterfinlay – until he threw in his lot with this new-fangled “free church” nonsense.’
‘We’re talking of the same man, General. Coll Kennedy is brother to the sixteenth Earl of Glenadon. He’s also a man of great principle, prepared to lose a comfortable home and living when there was a clash between material and spiritual considerations.’
While the Letterfinlay landowner mulled over Wyatt’s revelation, Wyatt played what he hoped might prove to be his trump card.
‘By the way, General. You wouldn’t be the officer who fought with the Ninety-Second Regiment through the Peninsular campaigns and as a major held the position on La Haye Sainte at Waterloo?’
‘Eh?’ General Lindsay was startled. ‘That’s right, I was at Waterloo – and held the knoll at La Haye Sainte. That’s why I have to use this damned stick. But what do you know of it, eh? You’re far too young to have been there yourself – and you’re a minister, aren’t you?’
Wyatt had no intention of reopening that discussion, ‘I haven’t always been a minister. I was in the Army before I studied for the Church. I was a captain in the Seventy-Second. We formed part of Colonel Harry Smith’s army in the wars against the kaffirs in Natal. I’ve often heard him speak of you.’
‘Old Harry … of the Ninety-Fifth? Now, there was a man with the luck of the devil – if you’ll pardon the expression, Minister. At Badajos it was, in Spain. We had to fight damned hard for the town. When the battle was won the troops got out of hand and sacked the place. Someone brought a fourteen-year-old Spanish girl to Harry seeking his protection. Pretty little thing she was, with a trim figure. Damned if Old Harry didn’t fall head over heels for the girl and marry her! Most of us thought he was mad, but do you know that girl followed him through the whole campaign. Thought the world of him! Not only that, she turned out to be the finest army wife any soldier could have wished for. She was the making of old Harry Smith.’
The general beamed happily at Wyatt. ‘So you fought alongside old Harry Smith, eh? Come on inside the house and share a bottle of something special with me. Not every day I have the opportunity of chatting to another army man….’
With a hand resting affectionately on Wyatt’s shoulder, General Lindsay led him to the house and in through the door. Behind him the forgotten gamekeeper watched in disbelief as the two men passed from view.
That afternoon, in the cave high on the mountainside above the river, Wyatt told an incredulous Coll Kennedy that the Letterfinlay minister had been invited to return to his church and the manse from which he had been so forcefully evicted only a few weeks before. What was more, General Lindsay wanted Coll Kennedy to explain to him the reasons why so many ministers had broken away from the Establishment and formed their own church. Of course, if Coll Kennedy also felt able to arrange for the general to be introduced to the sixteenth Earl of Glenadon at some later date….
Coll Kennedy poured another drink for himself when Wyatt shook his head to decline a refill. ‘I don’t know how you did it, Wyatt. Most of the teachers I’ve had were inclined to say that modern-day miracles are restricted to the Catholic Church. Now I’m not so certain.’
‘The Lord works in devious ways right enough, Coll. I don’t doubt He had a hand in sending an ex-army pastor along the shortcut to Tam Vass’s distillery today. He probably also had a hand in setting the gamekeeper on sentry duty at the right time. I wouldn’t like to analyse His motives, though it could be to return you to your flock. On the other hand, it might be that He wants to remove you from so much temptation.’
‘It might also be the power of Tam Vass’s prayers. He swears I’m drinking away his profits.’ Coll Kennedy took another drink of whisky and looked about him at the smoke-filled cave. ‘I’ll miss this place, Wyatt. It’s been an experience I’ll never forget. But being exiled here makes me feel like a one-legged man representing the Lord in a race. I can’t do Him the service He deserves. I’m grateful to you, Wyatt, and very much in your debt.’
‘You owe me nothing, Coll. We’re both working towards the same end. But I’ll be forever in your debt if you can arrange a meeting for me with your brother – the new laird of Kilmalie.’ Wyatt had already told the Letterfinlay minister of the startling news brought to Fort William by Charles Graham.
Throwing back his head, Coll Kennedy emptied his glass and rose to his feet.
‘There’s no time like the present. It’s been a long time since I last visited the ancestral home. As congratulations would seem to be in order, let’s go and pay a call on brother Seoras.’
Glenadon had been the seat of the earls of Glenadon since the fifteenth century, and the family had lived on the site for as many years before. The two men reached the fortified house in Glen Moriston at dusk that same day after travelling deep into the Highlands north of Loch Lochy.
Coll Kennedy had borrowed a donkey from Tam Vass for Wyatt, but it was even more vicious than the Letterfinlay minister’s own mount. Wyatt completed the journey leading his donkey and with a painful bite on his thigh.
From the somewhat shabby state of the house and many of the buildings in the grounds, it was evident that the lords of Glenadon were not among the wealthiest of Scotland’s many peers. Coll Kennedy explained that this was due to the custom in the Kennedy family of producing as many sons as was humanly possible. This, said Coll, was a result of the Kennedy habit over the years of becoming involved in the wars of their neighbours and forfeiting the lives of many of their sons in the process.
From the conversations Wyatt had previously held with his fellow-preacher, he had formed the opinion that Coll Kennedy was the ‘black sheep’ of the Kennedy family, his relatives all deeply relieved when he left home. That this was not the case was made quite evident during the course of the evening.
Seoras Kennedy, sixteenth Earl of Glenadon, was delighted to have a visit from his younger brother, and the Earl’s charming and aristocratic wife echoed her husband’s delight. Their only regret seemed to be that none of the other Kennedy brothers lived close enough to be invited to share in the reunion that night.
Wyatt quickly realised that Seoras Kennedy belonged to the true Scottish aristocracy, in spite of his quiet, unassuming and rather ‘bookish’ manner. Yet the sixteenth Earl treated Wyatt as an equal and with great warmth. It made it easy for Wyatt to tell him the reason for the visit when Coll Kennedy brought up the subject of his brother’s latest inheritance.
Wyatt spoke of the Highlanders who lived in the mountains; of the Rosses; of Lachlan Munro; of Seonaid and her blind father; and of the latest clearances.
When Wyatt ran out of words, the Earl of Glenadon said: ‘What is it you would like me to do?’
‘I’d like you to tell the Highlanders they might remain in the mountains, where they belong.’
Seoras Kennedy looked thoughtful. ‘I know very little about Kilmalie lands. They are making a profit, so I’m told, but I believe it to be a marginal one.’
Looking at Wyatt in silence for a while, he said: ‘It’s a regrettable economic fact of life that landowners need to bring sheep into the hills in order to make a profit. I am no exception. You say great tracts of land have already been cleared of tenants? Would they all want to return to their old homes?’
Wyatt remembered his conversations with the dispossessed tenants and cottars in the school and in the churchyard. The words of those on the road to Fort William who intended to take a boat to a new life.
‘A few would. I suspect many others have had enough. They’ve made the break and wouldn’t go back now.’
Seoras Kennedy nodded. �
�It’s much the same elsewhere in the Highlands. Very well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. There will be no more clearances, you have my word for this; but those who have been dispossessed will not be returned to their old tenancies. Those lands have been cleared for sheep; and if this factor is like others of his ilk there will already be sheep there. However, they will be given an equal amount of land within areas already tenanted. As far as is possible, they may choose their lands. In the event of any disputes I will be the final arbiter. They can have two rent-free years as compensation for what they’ve lost. For the following two years they will pay the same rent as they were paying before. If they’ve lost stock in the clearances, I’ll do my best to make it up from what I have on Glenadon lands. In other words, Minister Jamieson, I’ll do all I can for them short of giving them money – that is rather hard to come by at the moment. How does such an arrangement sound to you?’
It was more – far more – than Wyatt had dared hope to achieve when he set forth from Fort William that morning. It was an honest and generous settlement by the new landowner of the Kilmalie estates. When Wyatt tried to express his gratitude, the Earl cut short his thanks.
‘I’m a Highlander, too, Minister Jamieson. I belong to a family which prides itself on honouring the duties life has imposed upon it. However, the root of the problem would seem to be Factor Garrett. Charles Graham has already expressed his thoughts on the man to me. I’ll get rid of him, of course, but I shall need a replacement. Is there anyone you could recommend?’
When Wyatt hesitated, Coll Kennedy spoke the name of the man Wyatt had in mind.
‘There’s a very good man, and he’s living in Eskaig right now. Alasdair Burns – or Alasdair Burns Anderson, to give him the name he was born with.’
The Earl of Glenadon frowned. ‘I seem to have heard that name….’
‘He was imprisoned some years ago. I believe he was convicted of “sedition”. What it really means is he was arguing for a fair deal for men like the Highlanders, but he said it in the wrong places. He’s a good man, an honest man. I’d stake my life on him.’
To Wyatt’s surprise, the Earl of Glenadon smiled at Coll Kennedy. ‘It sounds just like our Malcolm.’
To Wyatt, the Earl said: ‘Has Coil told you of our brother Malcolm, who spent a spell in an English gaol for espousing the Chartist cause?’
Wyatt shook his head. Nothing would ever surprise him again.
‘Malcolm went to prison because of his honesty, not for any form of deception. I understand a great many good men suffered far more, for the same reasons. Very well, Minister Jamieson. Send your friend to see me as soon as possible. If I think your opinion of him is sound, he’ll be the new factor of the Kilmalie estate at Eskaig. Now, before we see what we’ve been able to find for dinner, there’s one thing more to be cleared up. I believe you’ve been ousted from your kirk in Eskaig? As your new patron I feel I should do something about it, right away….’
Forty-nine
WYATT RETURNED TO Fort William well satisfied with all he had achieved during the past few days. It was far more than he would have believed possible when he left Eskaig on the day of Lachlan Munro’s death. Now he intended to find the would-be emigrants and tell them about the new landlord of the Kilmalie estates. Hopefully some would remain in Scotland – and Wyatt was convinced this would be in their best interests.
He was returning from Glenadon alone. Coll Kennedy had been persuaded to remain for another twenty-four hours by the promise that two more of the Kennedy brothers could be ‘gathered in’ by evening for a small reunion. Wyatt was invited to stay and take part in the family’s celebrations, but he felt much was happening elsewhere that required his attention.
Before going on board the emigrant-ship, Wyatt paid a visit to the bank in Fort William and drew out some of the money left to him by Lord Kilmalie. Paid to him in gold sovereigns, it was more cash than he had ever carried before.
He took it to the quay accompanied by two of the stoutest clerks from the bank, detailed by a concerned bank manager to escort him. Fort William was a Highland town, its citizens among the most honest in the land; but not all the would-be emigrants were honest local men. On board would also be criminal fugitives from the cities of the south, fleeing from justice. An emigrant-ship provided such men with a secure sanctuary from pursuit.
After a brief tour of the ship to locate his late parishioners, Wyatt stood on the deck and waited for them to gather around him. He sincerely hoped the emigrant-vessel was not indicative of the great new life these people hoped to find in Canada. The ship was old, and smaller than Wyatt had expected. Probably of no more than four hundred tons. The main timbers seemed alarmingly sponge-like, and Wyatt wished he knew enough about ships to form an expert opinion of the seaworthiness of this particular vessel.
Accommodation for the emigrant families would be extremely cramped and uncomfortable. Wyatt estimated there were at least five hundred emigrants on board, accommodated in two holds. Each hold was about forty feet long, twenty feet wide, and had seven feet of headroom. Bunks for the passengers were merely wooden slatted shelves, three tiers high. On these the emigrants were expected to arrange themselves as best they could, irrespective of sex and with no pretence of privacy.
The Eskaig emigrants had already learned that the five pounds given to each family would be gone long before they began a brave new life in the new land. Their passage to Canada was inclusive only of accommodation and water. They were required to take with them sufficient provisions to feed themselves for six weeks. It had not been pointed out to them that some bad voyages had been known to last as long as eleven or even twelve weeks during exceptionally adverse weather.
There were more than sixty emigrants from the Eskaig district. Wyatt told them of the new landlord and his terms for allowing them to remain on Kilmalie land. They raised a cheer when he informed them John Garrett was not to remain as the factor.
When Wyatt had finished talking, no more than seventeen Highlanders decided to return – nine from the same family. Wyatt pressed the others to reconsider their decision, but their determination to find a new life in Canada would not be shaken. All their lives they had been totally dependent upon the whim of factor and landowner. For much of the time they had lived with the constant threat of eviction. Now the threat had been fulfilled. They had been forced to watch helplessly as flames devoured their homes and possessions.
They accepted what Wyatt said about the new landowner. They were ready to believe he might even keep his word to them. But what would happen if he were struck dead in a week – a month – a year? They were likely to have to make this same decision again. No, they would go to Canada and carve a new way of life from the wilderness. Free from the greed of landowners, tyrannical factors and the ever-present threat of ‘clearances’.
It was useless for Wyatt to tell them they would take most of their own problems with them to the new land. Poverty, cold and sheer desperation would drive many to sell their future to any man who could afford to keep their families alive. They would commit themselves to a life of servitude as binding as the duty owed by a clansman to his chief in the Middle Ages.
When Wyatt had exhausted all his arguments without changing their minds, he gave up. The crew of the emigrant-ship were preparing for sea. They cursed the Eskaig minister for gathering so many people on the deck where they were working, but he ignored them and spoke to his people once more.
‘How many of you will still have money left when you’re put ashore in Canada?’
The Highlanders looked at each other but they did not reply. Each was reluctant to let the others know the extent of his poverty.
Wyatt sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter. I want all those who are still determined to go to line up in front of me. I intend giving every man, woman and child ten sovereigns and I want you to keep them until you land in Canada. The money should see you through the first few weeks, at least. One day, when you’ve all made your fortunes, you can donate t
he same amount, plus interest, to the Eskaig kirk. Perhaps I’ll have the richest kirk in the whole of Scotland then. Now, take your money. We’ll have a short service, and I’ll wish you God speed – and may fortune favour you in Canada.’
Wyatt handed out four hundred and seventy sovereigns before conducting a service that was attended by most of the emigrants and a great many of the crew. It was said afterwards the voices from the emigrant-ship, raised in praise of God, moved more than one resident of Fort William to tears.
It moved Wyatt greatly, too. He walked away from the ship not daring to look back at the departing Highlanders lest they see the tears he shed for them.
Wyatt called a meeting of evicted tenants and Eskaig villagers in the school that evening and passed on the promises made to him by the Earl of Glenadon. Evangeline was at the meeting, too, but Alasdair was not. He had unexpectedly gone into the mountains that morning and had not yet returned.
Wyatt told Evangeline of the Earl’s plans and left her with very mixed feelings about the changes. Of one thing she was certain, though. She would move her mother to Eskaig before the news of his dismissal reached her father.
Long before Wyatt had finished talking there was so much hubbub in the room it became useless to try to say more for the moment. At the height of the excited commotion Alasdair Burns slipped into the room, having come straight from the mountains. As he made his way towards Wyatt, one of the cottars called to ask how the factor had taken the news that his clearance plans had been brought to an end.
Wyatt had not told the meeting who their new factor was to be, but he would never have a better opportunity than now.
When he broke the news there was a brief moment of astonished silence, then the room erupted with a mighty roar of approval that might have been heard all the way to Corpach. The delighted crowd surged about Alasdair Burns, and before he guessed their intentions two men lifted him to their shoulders. As they paraded him around the room others reached up to shake him by the hand or pummel his back.
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