The Prince gave to Miss MacDonald the garters he wore with the woman's cloaths, which were French, of blue velvet covered upon one side with white silk, and fastened with buckles. Miss MacDonald's brother (son of honest Armadale) coming south to find a passage for Holland, where he was to enter into the Dutch service, brought these garters along with him, and deposited them in the hands of a friend[90] in Leith, to be kept for his sister till she should be so happy as to return from London. He said his sister had writ from the Road of Leith to Sky concerning the garters, intreating they might be carefully preserved, for that she put a great value upon them.
When Miss MacDonald was a prisoner she happened in coursing about from place to place to fall in luckily with [fol. 198.] Captain O'Neil, then a prisoner likewise, to whom she made up, and giving him a gentle slap upon the cheek with the loof of her hand, said, 'To that black face do I owe all my misfortune.' The captain with a smile replied, 'Why, Madam, what you call your misfortune is truly your greatest honour. And if you be careful to demean yourself agreeably to the character you have already acquired, you will in the event find it to be your happiness.' She told him she was much afraid they designed to carry her to London, which she could not think of but with the utmost uneasiness, not knowing what might turn out to be the consequence. Upon this O'Neil told her that he would take upon him to commence prophet in the case, and to foretell what would happen to her. 'For,' said he, 'if you are carried to London I can venture to assure you it will be for your interest and happiness; and instead of being afraid of this you ought to wish for it. There you will meet with much respect and very good and great friends for what you have done. Only be careful to make all your conduct of a piece. Be not frighten'd by the thoughts of your present circumstances either to say or do anything that may in the [fol. 199.] least tend to contradict or sully the character you are now[91] mistress of, and which you can never be robbed of but by yourself. Never once pretend (through an ill-judg'd excess of caution and prudence) to repent or be ashamed of what you have done, and I dare take upon me to answer for the rest. I do not think (added he) that the Government can be so very barbarous and cruel as to bring you to a trial for your life, and therefore I hope you have nothing to fear, and that things will happen to you as I have said.'
Captain O'Neil was wont to tell those who visited him in the Castle of Edinburgh that he had been at the same pains as a parent would be with a child to lay down rules to Miss MacDonald for her future behaviour under the misfortune of being a prisoner, and that it gave him infinite pleasure to find that things had happened to her hitherto according to his words, and to hear by all the accounts he could learn that she had sacredly observed the advices he had given her. He frequently expressed his heartiest wishes that she might get free of all her troubles, and arrive at that which so justly she deserved.
When Miss MacDonald was on board the Bridgewater in Leith Road, accounts had come that the Prince was taken prisoner, and one of the officers had brought the news of this report on board. She got an opportunity of talking privately to some who were then visiting her, and said with tears in her eyes, 'Alas, I am afraid that now all is in vain that I have [fol. 200.] done. The Prince at last is in the hands of his enemies.' Though at that time great fear was entertained about the truth of this account, yet those that were with Miss MacDonald endeavoured all they could to chear her up, and to dissuade her from believing any such thing. But still fears haunted her mind till the matter was cleared up and the contrary appeared.
Miss MacDonald is Protestant, and is descended of the family of Clanranald by her father, and of an Episcopal clergyman by her mother. She is daughter of the deceast Ranald MacDonald of Milton in South Uist, in which island (when the Prince was skulking thereabouts) she happened to be visiting her brother-german who had a little before taken up house at Milton. She was not many days there till she was engaged in the hazardous enterprize; and when she returned to her mother in Sky, the honest old woman was surprized to see her, and asked the reason why she had made such a short stay with her brother. Miss replied that things being in a hurry and confusion in South Uist, with such a number of military folks, she was uneasy till she got out of it; but she never once hinted at the adventure she had so successfully managed, of which the mother knew nothing at all till a party came to take the daughter prisoner, although Miss had been with her [fol. 201.] mother eight or ten days before she was seized. Immediately Miss Flora was hurried on board of a sloop of war without being allowed the priviledge of taking leave of her mother, or telling her anything of the matter, or taking along with herself one stitch to change another. The sloop called the Greyhound, or rather the Furnace, was commanded by John Ferguson of Aberdeenshire,[92] a man remarkably rigid and severe in his way, but one of too much greedy sense to have butchered the Prince if he had fallen into his hands. For when he was asked by a friend of his own[93] in Edinburgh what he would have done with the Prince had he got him into his clutches, whether or not he would have dispatched him, he answered, 'No (by G——), I would have been so far from doing any such thing that I would have preserved him as the apple of mine eye, for I would not take any man's word, no, not the Duke of Cumberland's for £30,000 Sterling, though I knew many to be such fools as to do it.' Ferguson was more [fol. 202.] than once (as he thought) within an hour of catching the Prince, so closely he pursued the royal wanderer, and such an anxiety he had to touch the price of blood.
It was Miss MacDonald's good fortune to be soon removed out of the hands of Ferguson into those of the polite and generous Commodore Smith, who, in the coursing about, obtained leave of General Campbell to allow Miss to go ashore to visit her mother and to seek a servant to attend her in the state of confinement. Then it was that poor Kate MacDonal generously made an offer to run all risques with the captive lady, who gladly accepted.
One day in the Road of Leith a lady[94] asking Miss if she had any books on board, she said she had only a prayer book, but regreted much the want of a bible, which that lady soon furnished her with in a present in two pretty pocket volumes, handsomely bound. That she might have some innocent and useful employment for her time, care was taken by a lady[95] to send her a thimble, needles, white thread of different sorts, etc., with some linen and cambrick cut and shaped according [fol. 203.] to the newest fashions. This piece of friendship Miss Flora admired as much as any instance of kindness and regard that had been shown her, because all the time she had been in custody she was quite idle, having no work to do, and thereby time pass'd very dully on.
While she was in the Road of Leith, from the beginning of September to the 7th of November, she never was allowed to set her foot once on shore, though in other respects the officers were extremely civil and complaisant to her, and took it exceedingly well when any persons came to visit her. Sometimes they were so obliging as to come ashore for good company to attend her, and frequently declared that if they knew any person to come on board out of curiosity and not out of respect for Miss MacDonald, that person should not have access to her. This genteel behaviour makes it to be presumed that their orders were so exceedingly strict that they could not dare to bring her ashore. Commodore Smith (Commander of the Eltham) behaved like a father to her, and tendered her many good advices as to her behaviour in her ticklish situation; and Captain Knowler of the Bridgewater used her with the utmost decency and politeness. When company came to visit her she was indulged the privilege by both these humane and well-bred gentlemen to call for anything on board as if [fol. 204.] she had been at her own fireside, and the servants of the cabin were obliged to give her all manner of attendance; and she had the liberty to invite any of her friends to dine with her when she pleased. Her behaviour in company was so easy, modest, and well-adjusted that every visitant was much surprized; for she had never been out of the islands of South Uist and Sky till about a year before the Prince's arrival that she had been in the family of MacDonald of Largie in Argyllshire for the space of ten or eleven months; and during her confinement she had been all along on board a ship of war till she went to London.
Some that went on board to pay their respects to her, used to take a dance in the cabin, and to press her much to share with them in the diversion. But with all their importunity they could not prevail with her to take a trip. She told them that at present her dancing days were done, and she would not readily entertain a thought of that diversion till she should be assured of her Prince's safety, and perhaps not till she should be bless'd with the happiness of seeing him again. Although she was easy and chearful, yet she had a certain mixture of gravity in all her behaviour which became her situation exceedingly well, and set her of to great advantage. She is [fol. 205.] of a low stature, of a fair complexion and well enough shap'd. One could not discern by her conversation that she had spent all her former days in the Highlands; for she talks English (or rather Scots) easily, and not at all through the Earse tone. She has a sweet voice and sings well; and no lady, Edinburgh bred, can acquit herself better at the tea-table than what she did when in Leith Road. Her wise conduct in one of the most perplexing scenes that can happen in life, her fortitude and good sense, are memorable instances of the strength of a female mind, even in those years that are tender and unexperienced. She is the delight of her friends and the envy of her enemies.
1746 29 June