The Prince set sail on the evening of the twenty-sixth of April, embarking at Boradale, on the very spot where he had landed, with just sufficient daylight to get clear of Loch Luagh; for, as the coast had been guarded by English ships ever since his arrival in Scotland, it was not safe to go beyond the mouth of the Loch in open day. Before the voyage was commenced, the Prince was warned by his faithful pilot that there would be a storm that night. "I see it coming!" But Charles Edward, anxious to leave the main land, where parties were dispersed in pursuit of him, was determined to trust his fate to the winds. The party, therefore, entered the boat, the Prince seating himself at the feet of the pilot. There was also another Macleod in the boat; this was Murdoch, the son of the pilot, a boy of fifteen years of age. The character of this youth was of no common order. When he had heard of the battle of Culloden, he had provided himself with a claymore, a dirk, and a pistol; and had run off from school to take his chance in the field. After the defeat he found means to trace out the road which the Prince had taken, and to follow him step by step; "and this was the way," related Donald Macleod, "that I met wi' my poor boy."
Another person who was in the boat, and who afterwards made a conspicuous figure in that romance of real life, was Ned Bourke, or Burke. This man had belonged to a most valuable class, the chairmen of Edinburgh, whose honesty is proverbial; their activity and civility almost incredible to English notions. Bourke was not, as his name seemed to imply, an Irishman; but a native of North Uist. He had been a servant to Mr. Alexander Macleod, one of Charles Edward's aides-de-camp; and was the man who had led the Prince off the field of battle, and guided him all the way to Boradale: for Ned Bourke knew Scotland, and indeed a great portion of England, well, having been servant to several gentlemen. In this, his most important service, the honest man did not disgrace his ancient and honourable calling as a chairman. "Excellent things" were spoken of him to Donald Macleod, who seems to have made some demur as to his Irish name, and to have objected to taking him on board.
Thus guided, and thus guarded, Charles Edward might fear the winds and waves; but treachery was not to be dreaded. Not far had the men rowed before a violent storm arose; such as even Donald had not, from his own account, ever been "trysted with before," though he had all his life been a seafaring man. The Prince was now as impatient to return to the land as he had been to quit it; "for," he said, "I would rather face cannons and muskets than be in such a storm as this!" But Donald was firm in proceeding on the voyage: "Since we are here," he replied, "we have nothing for it, but, under God, to set out to sea directly." He refused to steer for the rock, which runs three miles along the side of the loch; observing, "Is it not as good for us to be drowned in clear water, as to be dashed to pieces on a rock, and drowned also?"
A solemn silence followed this decisive reply. Every one expected instant destruction. The night was pitch-dark; and there was no light in the boat. They dreaded being landed on some part of the island of Skye, where the militia were in arms to prevent the Prince's escape. But, to use the words of the pilot, "As God would have it," that danger was not encountered. By daybreak the party discovered that they were close to Rushness, in the island of Benbecula, having run according to the pilot's account, thirty-two leagues in eight hours. During this perilous voyage the spirits of Charles never sank; he encouraged every one around him, working himself at the oars: "he was," says Mr. Maxwell, "the only one that seemed void of concern."
Such were the circumstances under which Charles Edward landed in the Long Island;—the event which brought him into communication with Flora Macdonald. She was at that time calmly engaged in the usual duties of her station; but the spirit so prevalent in the Highlands was not extinguished in the Western Islands, either by the dread of the English militia, or by the defeat of the Prince. All the Jacobites of that period, to adopt the language of President Forbes, "how prudent soever, became mad; all doubtful people became Jacobites; and all bankrupts became heroes, and talked of nothing but hereditary right and victory. And what was more grievous to men of gallantry, and, if you believe me, more mischievous to the public, all the fine ladies, if you except one or two, became passionately fond of the young adventurer, and used all their arts for him in the most intemperate manner."[278] It was not, however, an idle, romantic fancy, but a fixed sentiment of duty, acting upon a kindly heart, which originated the enthusiasm of Flora.
Whilst the Prince was traversing the Long Island in poverty and danger, a desolate wanderer wanting the common necessaries of life, but still patient and cheerful ever hoping once more to assemble his faithful Highlanders,—living at one time four days in a desert island, then putting to sea pursued by ships,—Flora Macdonald had accidentally quitted her usual residence at Armadale in Skye, for the purpose of visiting her step-brother at Milton.
During her abode at Milton, Captain O'Neil, who was loitering about the country for the purpose of gaining intelligence for Charles Edward, formed an acquaintance with this young lady, and, it is said, paid his addresses to her. More than two months had now elapsed since Charles first trusted his hopes to the chance of finding a vessel on the coast of the Long Island, to take him to France. During that period his fortunes had assumed a far more threatening aspect than at any previous time. Friends had proved faithless; Murray of Broughton, whom the Prince then still regarded as one of the "firmest, honestest men in the world," had shown to others his real motives, and the deep selfishness, cowardice, and rapacity, of his heart. In his utmost need, when the Prince was in want of food, that wretched man had, in reply to a message from Charles asking money, answered that he had none; having only sixty louis-d'ors for himself, which were not worth sending. What was perhaps of more immediate moment was, that, whilst the friends of the young Chevalier had diminished, the number of his foes around him had increased. Fifteen ships of war were to be seen near the coasts of the Long Island, thus most effectually destroying all hopes of a French vessel being able to cruize near the shore. To complete his misfortunes, the Duke of Cumberland, upon learning that his unfortunate kinsman had sheltered himself in the Western Islands, had sent Captain Caroline Scott, an officer as infamous as Hawley and Lockhart, to scour the Long Island.
Such were the circumstances of Charles towards the latter end of June 1746. He was then coursing along the shores of the Long Island, until, pursued by French ships, he was obliged to land, happily for himself, on the island of Benbecula, between the North and South Uist. Providence seemed to have conducted him to that wild and bleak shore. Scarcely had he reached it, than a storm arose, and drove his pursuers off the coast. Here the Prince and his starving companions were overjoyed to find a number of crabs, or, as the Scottish pilot termed them, partans; a boon to the famished wanderers. From a hut, about two miles from the shore, Charles removed, first to the house of Lady Clanranald; and afterwards, by the advice of Clanranald, he went to South Uist, and took up his abode near the hill of Coradale in the centre of the island, that being thought the most secure retreat. Here Charles remained until again driven from this hut by the approach of Captain Scott, with a detachment of five hundred men, who advanced close to the place where he was concealed. The unfortunate Prince then determined upon a last and painful effort to save those who had braved hitherto the severities of their lot for his sake. He parted with all his followers except O'Neil. Donald Macleod shed tears on bidding him farewell. Macleod was taken prisoner a few days afterwards in Benbecula, by Lieutenant Allan Macdonald, of Knock, in Slate, in the island of Skye. He was put on board the Furnace,[279] and brought down to the cabin before General Campbell, who examined him minutely. The General asked him "if he had been along with the Pretender?" "Yes," said Donald, "I was along with that young gentleman, and I winna deny it." "Do you know," said the General, "what money was upon the gentleman's head? no less a sum than four thousand pounds sterling, which would have made you and your family happy for ever." "What then," said Donald, "what could I have gotten by it? I could not have enjoyed it for two days, conscience would have gotten the better of me; and although I could have got England and Scotland for my Prince, I would not have allowed a hair of his head to be hurt."[280]
After this separation, the Prince, accompanied by O'Neil, again returned to traverse the mountainous districts of South Uist. He walked in the direction of Benbecula, and about midnight entered a shealing, or hut, which belonged to Angus Macdonald, the brother of his future deliverer. The interview which shortly took place between them, was not, as it may readily be conceived, unpremeditated.[281] Repeatedly, before the meeting, had O'Neil asked Flora whether she would like to see the Prince? She answered with emotion that she would. She had even expressed an earnest desire to see him; and had said, if she could be of any use in aiding him to escape from his enemies, she would do it.
O'Neil had had various opportunities of studying the real character of Flora Macdonald. He must have had an extraordinary notion of her energy when he first proposed to her, whilst they met in Clanranald's house, to take the Prince with her to Skye, dressed up in woman's clothes. This proposition appeared to Flora so "fantastical and dangerous," that she positively declined it. "A Macdonald, a Macleod, a Campbell militia were," she observed, "in South Uist in quest of the Prince: a guard was posted at every ferry; every boat was seized; no person could leave Long Island without a passport; and the channel between Uist and Skye was covered with ships of war." Such was her resolution whilst she discussed the subject with O'Neil at the house of her kinsman, Clanranald. Nor does that sense of the dangers of her undertaking lessen the heroism of the enterprise. But her woman's heart, however timid it might be at Clanranald's castle, was touched, when she beheld the Prince; and compassion, from which spring the noblest resolves, inspired her to exertion.