Here James remained a prisoner for a period of two years. It is related that an old neighbour of his, Grant of Tomavoulin, happened to pass one day under his prison window. James saw him, and asked, “What news from Speyside?” “None very particular,” was the answer; “the best news I have is, that the country is rid of you.” “Perhaps,” said James, “we shall meet again.” During his imprisonment he was permitted to see friends occasionally, who supplied him with something better than ordinary prison fare; and in a small cask, covered over with butter, his wife succeeded, on one of these occasions, in furnishing him with cord sufficient to enable him to effect his escape through his prison window. This was in October 1632. His son waited for him, and accompanied him in his flight; but for which he would have died by the way. In consequence of his confinement and other hardships, he lay for nine days in a wood near Denny, and thence made his way to his old haunts, where he lay concealed and inactive for a year. Meantime the Privy Council was greatly exasperated at his escape, and offered large rewards for his apprehension.
But the restless and daring man could not be idle; and now that his health was recovered and the vigilance of his enemies allayed, he again betook himself to his old schemes of revenge and depredation—‘partly travelling through the country, sometimes on Speyside, sometimes here, sometimes there, without fear or dread,’ but always having a sharp eye on his old enemy Ballindalloch. Ballindalloch, in self-defence, was obliged once more to attempt to set bounds to the attacks of James; and accordingly he hired a band of the outlawed Macgregors to do this job for him. These men were under the leadership of Patrick Dubh Gearr, a man little less famous for his exploits than Seumas-an-Tuim himself. James being at Carron one night with his son and an only servant, the Macgregors surrounded the house, while some of the party ascended the roof to uncover it and get at their victim. Grant hearing the noise, and finding himself beset by his enemies, resolved to defend the door, aided by his son and servant; and meantime made such good use of his arrows through the windows that the Macgregors were kept at bay. Patrick Gearr, bolder than his followers, venturing forward to force the door, Grant took aim at him with his gun and shot him through both legs, and in the confusion which followed the fall of their leader, James escaped through the roof and was once more beyond the reach of his pursuers. Gearr, it appears, died of his wounds, and Grant was lauded as a public benefactor. ‘Patrick Gearr was a notable thief, robber, and briganer, oppressing the people wherever he came,’ and therefore they rejoiced at his death.
Seumas-an-Tuim now resolved to fight Ballindalloch single-handed with his own weapons. Accordingly, while the latter was sitting quietly and unsuspiciously in his own house, on a dark December night, a messenger came to the door and told his servant that a well-known friend was waiting outside to speak to him. Ballindalloch at once responded and sallied forth to meet his friend (?). But no sooner was he outside than he was suddenly smothered in plaids by a party of unknown men—Seumas-an-Tuim and his followers—and hurried away in this helpless condition, over moss and moor, he knew not whither. They carried him in this miserable plight, all the way to the neighbourhood of Elgin, where they confined him in an old kiln, for three weeks, almost in a state of starvation. Eventually, and with great difficulty, Ballindalloch made his escape by the aid of one of his guards, whom he bribed to effect his release. Meantime, the Macgregors desolated the country with fire and sword in revenge for the death of their redoubtable leader Patrick Gearr. It was at this time that the famous outlaw Gilderoy, the well-known hero of tradition and song, came to the front. He succeeded to the leadership which became vacant by the death of Patrick.
The man who taunted Seumas-an-Tuim when imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle, was one Thomas Grant, a Speyside man. Nothing daunted by previous failures to capture James, he volunteered, at the request of Ballindalloch, to bring him dead or alive into his hands. This came to the ear of James. He went to Grant’s house at once, and not finding him, he gratified his revenge by killing sixteen of his cattle. Finding him shortly thereafter at the house of a friend, and in bed, he dragged him naked out of the house and dispatched him with many wounds, and so fulfilled his own prison vaticinations—“Perhaps we shall meet again.”
Notwithstanding the wild and lawless career of this man, living as he did in open defiance of law and order, and in the commission of all kinds of atrocities, he managed somehow to elude every effort made to bring him to justice. He even succeeded in obtaining a public remission of his crimes, and survived to take an active part in the troubles in which the country was involved during the Commonwealth. James, we suppose more from policy than principle, attached himself to the winning side, and had his services rewarded by receiving immunity for all his misdeeds.
What a contrast those times are to the times in which we live? It seems hardly credible that such lawless and atrocious deeds could be performed in the face of day, within so comparatively recent a period and amid scenes where peace and prosperity now reign paramount. Yet so it is; and with blood upon his hands, enough to have hanged scores of other men, Seumas-an-Tuim lived to a green old age, and died peaceably and quietly in his bed—the theme of story and song.
