Brave British soldiers and the Victoria Cross / a general account of the regiments and men of the British Army, and stories of the brave deeds which won the prize "for valour"

by Unknown

The Macraes, as we have already said, had never attained to the dignity of a clan; they were a sort of caterans or pilfering tinkers, who had found it convenient to place themselves under the protection of the chief of the Mackenzies. It appears that Seaforth had no particular liking for his pilfering protégés, and deemed this a favourable opportunity for getting quit of them. It is a fact not generally known that our Highland regiments have often obtained their best recruits from the fraternity of cairds or caterans. About half a century ago the whole of the North of Scotland was infested with these marauders, who, under the guise of mendicancy, levied contributions on the inhabitants of the rural districts, and lived a jovial, careless life. They were present at every marriage feast and merry-making, where the broken meat became their perquisite; sometimes they devoured the feast itself, and left the guests to shift for themselves. There was no rural constabulary in those days to keep them in check, and these Ishmaelites did very much whatever they chose. They were unrivalled in wrestling, single-stick, and every athletic sport; they were the best dancers on the village green; they could do everything but work or settle down to any fixed employment. They were essentially a nomadic race, ever on the move, sleeping by night in country barns, starting with the earliest dawn, and levying their contributions from door to door. We remember a gang of caterans or cairds who frequented the county of Aberdeen more years ago than we should like to tell. They all bore the family name of Young, and belonged to the same sept. One of them—Peter Young—was a great thief, and made himself almost as notorious as Jack Sheppard by breaking out of every gaol in Scotland. These caterans came to a singular end, and disappeared from the country. This is how it happened.

The 92nd or Gordon Highlanders had suffered much in the Peninsular War, so that constant drafts had to be sent out from home to recruit their strength. When all other resources failed, the country gentlemen bethought themselves of an ingenious plan by which they could at once fill up the vacant ranks in the 92nd, and get quit of some unpleasant neighbours. They caused all the able-bodied cairds to be seized and conveyed to the neighbouring seaport, where they were shipped off to join the 92nd. Such a thing, of course, could not be done at the present day, but strange things were done half a century ago in Scotland as elsewhere. Many a man who had no desire to be a sailor or a soldier was impressed or forced to serve in the army or navy against his will. This impressment of the Youngs proved the death-blow of the race. Not one of them ever returned from the Peninsula, but we have heard old pensioners of the 92nd declare that they were at once the greatest thieves and the smartest soldiers in the regiment.

The wild Macraes seem to have been men of much the same stamp as the Youngs, and Seaforth doubtless had his own reasons for wishing to get quit of them. These caterans were as much attached to their native land as if they had been the possessors of countless acres; they were their own masters, and had tasted the sweets of liberty. Seaforth knew that he could never persuade such men to enlist for foreign service, but he had sufficient influence to induce them to serve for a limited period at home, or rather to join the 78th on that understanding. It was only on reaching Leith that they discovered that they were intended for service in the East Indies, when symptoms of disaffection appeared among them. The report spread that Seaforth had sold them to the government. Loud complaints were heard that they had been cheated of their pay and bounty money. The wild Macraes were not the men tamely to submit to such injuries, and the stinging sense of wrong was intensified by the representations of certain parties hostile to the government of the day. Their slumbering discontent broke forth into open mutiny on receiving orders to embark; they absolutely refused to do so, and marched out of Leith with pipes playing, and two plaids fixed on poles instead of colours. On reaching Arthur’s Seat—the beautiful hill which overlooks Edinburgh, and is familiar to every tourist who has visited the North—they encamped on its summit, and remained there for several days. Though in a state of open mutiny, they respected the property of the citizens, and conducted themselves with so much propriety that public sympathy was excited in their favour, especially among the lower classes, who supplied them abundantly with provisions. The authorities deemed it more prudent to inquire into their grievances than to attempt to reduce them by force. After much negotiation they professed themselves satisfied, and marched back to their quarters at Leith with pipes playing and Seaforth at their head.

After serving for some time in the Channel Islands, they embarked in March, 1781, for the East Indies. Seaforth died during the voyage, before he reached St. Helena, and his death had such a depressing effect upon the men, that no less than 230 of them died before they reached India. They took part in all the different battles which were fought till the conclusion of peace in 1783, when, in terms of their agreement with government, they had a right to return home. Few of the Macraes lived to revisit their native land; most of them had died during the voyage, or succumbed to the fatal effects of the enervating climate. Only 300 of the men remained in India; but these, reinforced by volunteers from other regiments returning home, and by a detachment of 200 recruits from the North, were formed into a new regiment, which has ever since been known as the 72nd, or Duke of Albany’s Own Highlanders.

The March of the Wild Macraes to Arthur’s Seat.

A similar mutiny, proceeding from the same causes, broke out in the 81st, or Aberdeenshire Highland Regiment, in 1783. This regiment was raised in 1778 by the Hon. Colonel William Gordon, of Fyvie, a son of the Earl of Aberdeen by his third wife, a daughter of the Duke of Gordon. She was a sister of that Lord Lewis Gordon who took part in the rebellion of 1745, and whose absence from home is lamented in a charming Jacobite song which is still popular in the North. It is related of her that she took her stand close to the road by which the Duke of Cumberland and his army were marching south after the victory of Culloden, holding her infant son in her arms. Judging by her portrait, which we have seen, she must have been a very beautiful woman; and the duke, struck by her appearance, said, with his usual coarse bluntness, “Who are you?” The countess drew herself up to her full height, and looking him steadily in the face, boldly answered, “I am the sister of Lord Lewis Gordon.” Cumberland turned aside his head and passed on. The Earl of Aberdeen was well advanced in years when he married her, and it was agreed that the property of Fyvie should be settled on her or her offspring after his death. The Hon. William Gordon, who was the eldest son by this marriage, succeeded to the property, and rose to the rank of colonel in the service. In March, 1777, he received letters of service to raise a Highland regiment in his native county, and it was embodied in 1778 under the name of the 81st, or Aberdeenshire Highland Regiment. Its strength when first raised was 980 men, 650 of whom belonged to the Highlands of Aberdeenshire; a very large proportion were members of the clan Ross, the chief of which is James Ross Farquharson of Invercauld, a lieutenant-colonel in the Scots Fusilier Guards. The regiment marched to Stirling, and soon after embarked for Ireland, where it spent three years. In 1782 it was removed to Portsmouth, and received orders to embark for the East Indies. These orders were in direct violation of their terms of enlistment, which were the same as those of the Athole Highlanders, and the men, having agreed to serve till the conclusion of peace, the preliminaries of which were now settled, refused to embark, and claimed their discharge. They were, doubtless, encouraged to take this step by the example of the Athole Highlanders, and the success which had attended their assertion of their rights. The government, deeming it useless to attempt to reduce them by force, yielded to their demands, and sent them to Edinburgh, where they were disbanded in 1783. There is a tradition in the county that this mutiny was owing more to the cruelty of their colonel than the injustice of government. Few of them belonged to his own clan, and he treated them with a harshness to which the proud spirit of the Highlanders would not tamely submit. We have met with old veterans who could tell many stories of “Whipping Willie Gordon,” the sobriquet he obtained in the regiment through his fondness for the lash. He left the service with the rank of general, and spent his latter days at Fyvie Castle, where he professed himself a misogynist, and ended by marrying his cook.

An insurrection, attended with still more disastrous results, occurred in the Grant or Strathspey Fencibles in 1795. This regiment was raised by Sir James Grant of Grant in 1793, and about two months after the declaration of war by France, and, with the exception of three Englishmen and two Irishmen, was composed entirely of natives of the North. After being embodied at Forres, and inspected by General Leslie, the Grant Fencibles were stationed in most of the towns in the South of Scotland till 1795, when we find them at Dumfries. As a general rule, the best understanding has always subsisted between the Highlanders and their officers, and there is no sacrifice they are not prepared to make for those who have secured their confidence; but their proud, unbending spirit rebels at once against treachery or injustice. Enough has been already written to justify this assertion, and what we are about to relate tends only to confirm it. In 1794, when the regiment was stationed at Linlithgow, an attempt was made by the officers to persuade the men to extend their service, which, in terms of their enlistment, was confined to Scotland. It is probable that this attempt on the part of the officers originated merely from a desire to secure their own position in the army for a longer period, and it would probably have succeeded if they had won the confidence of the men by a frank avowal of their motives. As it was, they disclosed only enough to excite their suspicions, and the report spread that they had been sold to government. Nothing further was done in the matter at the time, but the officers were eyed with distrust, and a bad spirit sprang up in the regiment. An incident occurred at Dumfries the following year which brought matters to a crisis, and caused an open mutiny. The greatest freedom of intercourse was permitted between officers and men when both belonged to the same clan. This familiarity did not interfere with the strictness of discipline any more than it does in the French army, in which it has survived till the present day. An amusing illustration of this familiarity occurred in the 93rd Highlanders when they were stationed in Canada. There belonged to the regiment a young lieutenant—who, in virtue of his being the inheritor of an illustrious Scottish name and twenty thousand a year, deemed it the correct thing to remain ignorant of even the simplest military duty—and a private named Jock Muir, an excellent soldier, but an inveterate drunkard. There was a mutual understanding between the lieutenant and Jock that they should stand by one another in every emergency, or, in other words, that Jock should stand by the lieutenant when on duty, and whisper into his ear the word of command, and that the lieutenant should screen Jock when he got drunk. This system of reciprocity answered admirably for a time, but at length the lieutenant, from inadvertency or some other cause, allowed Jock to be punished, and Jock determined to have his revenge. An opportunity soon offered. The regiment was on parade, and the lieutenant, as the officer of the day, had to give the word of command. Turning to Jock, he said, “What is it? What must I say?” But Jock remained stiff and erect—no answer proceeded from his lips. “What am I to do, you fool?” said the poor lieutenant, losing his temper. “Run hame, mon! run hame!” roared Jock, in a stentorian voice which was heard over all the lines, and caused a general titter in the ranks. The lieutenant, acting on Jock’s advice, sold out and returned home, where he was much respected as a kind-hearted country gentleman.

Now it was a somewhat similar incident that rekindled the flame of discontent and caused an open mutiny among the Strathspey Fencibles at Dumfries in 1795. Militia officers are doubtless a highly-respectable class of men, and deserve well of their country in every respect, but they cannot be expected to possess the efficiency and skill of those who have devoted themselves to the profession of arms. The officers of the Strathspey Fencibles were men of good family, but as they had never seen any service they knew little about the management of troops, and sometimes exposed their ignorance in the presence of their own soldiers. On one occasion a contradictory order given by an officer called forth a jocular remark from one of the men, which was evidently much relished by his comrades. The officer lost his temper, put the offending parties in the guard-room, and threatened them with punishment—an indignity to which the proud spirit of the Highlanders refused to submit. They considered themselves disgraced by the threat, rushed to arms, and released their comrades by force. Soon after this the regiment was marched to Musselburgh, where Corporal James Macdonald and Privates Charles and Alexander Macintosh, Alexander Fraser, and Duncan Macdougall were tried for mutiny, found guilty, and condemned to be shot. In the case of Macdonald the sentence was commuted to corporal punishment—one of the first instances of a Highland soldier having been flogged. They were marched out to Gullane Links, East Lothian, on the 16th of July, and on reaching the ground were informed that only two would have to suffer the penalty of death. The two Macintoshes were called upon to draw lots, and the fatal one fell upon Charles. He and Fraser were immediately shot in the presence of the Scotch Brigade and other regiments assembled to witness this melancholy spectacle. The other men who had taken part in the mutiny were drafted into regiments serving abroad, and nothing further is known of their fate. No subsequent act of insubordination is recorded against this regiment, which was disbanded in 1798. It is singular to learn that less than seventy years ago in this civilised country the life or death of a human being depended on his drawing a lucky or unlucky number.

About the same period a mutiny broke out in the Breadalbane regiment, which gave rise to an incident that will remind our readers of the classical story of Damon and Pythias, and serve to illustrate the high spirit of honour which then prevailed among the Highlanders. This regiment was raised by the Earl of Breadalbane in 1793, and consisted of three battalions, whose united strength amounted to 2300 men. Some idea may be formed of the population of the Highlands at this period from the fact that 1600 men were obtained from the Breadalbane estates alone. We question whether one-fourth of that number could be raised there at the present day. Soon after the regiment had embodied it removed to Glasgow, and remained there till 1795, when a mutiny, similar in character and results to the one mentioned above, broke out among the men, who accused their officers of having sold them to the government for foreign service. The mutiny was soon suppressed, but when orders were given to apprehend the ringleaders it was found that so many of the men were equally implicated in the affair as to render it difficult to make a distinction. This difficulty was obviated by some of the men coming forward, taking all the blame upon themselves, and offering to suffer in the place of their less guilty comrades. Such an instance of generous self-sacrifice is unparalleled in the history of the British army, if not of the whole human race. The prisoners were sent to Edinburgh Castle to await their trial, and a singular incident occurred soon after they left Glasgow. The party was under command of Major Colin Campbell, one of their own officers, and one of the prisoners expressed a wish to speak to him in private. This man, Macmartin, belonged to the same part of the country as Major Campbell, and had always borne an excellent character, so that he had no difficulty in obtaining the desired interview. He stated frankly that he had given up all hope of escape, and was prepared to meet death. There was only one matter which weighed on his conscience and caused him much trouble: he had had some dealings with a friend in Glasgow which could only be settled by a personal interview; if this were denied, his friend would suffer much loss and inconvenience. If he were permitted to return to Glasgow he gave his solemn promise to rejoin the party before they reached Edinburgh.