In compliance with her husband’s desire, Mrs. Macdonald proceeded to dress herself, and sent her daughter down for her keys, which she had left in the hall. The girl went, but she returned almost instantly in a state of alarm, and told her mother that she was afraid to venture into the hall, as the tall woman was walking up and down in it. Mrs. Macdonald then went down herself; but on observing the prince striding through the hall she hesitated to enter, and calling to her husband requested him to go in and bring her the keys. Kingsburgh, however, refused to humour the pusillanimity of his wife, and she was at length obliged to enter.
When Mrs. Macdonald entered the hall, Charles, who, during the altercation between her and her husband, had taken a seat, rose up, and advancing, immediately saluted her agreeably to the Highland practice. Mrs. Macdonald, little expecting the roughness of a male chin under a female attire, began to tremble, and, without saying a word to the silent and mysterious being who stood before her, she hastened out of the hall, and going to her husband importuned him to inform her who the stranger was. She had not the least idea that the person who saluted her was the prince; and, imagining that the stranger was some nobleman or gentleman in disguise, she inquired if he knew what had become of the prince. Smiling at her simplicity, Kingsburgh said to her, “My dear, the person in the hall is the prince himself.” Alarmed at this unexpected announcement, she exclaimed, “The prince! then we are all ruined: we will all be hanged now!” “Hout,” replied Kingsburgh, “we can die but once; and if we are hanged for this we shall die in a good cause, doing only an act of humanity and charity. But go,” continued he, “make haste with supper; bring us eggs, butter, cheese, and whatever else can be got quickly ready.” “Eggs, butter, and cheese!” rejoined Mrs. Macdonald, “what a supper is that for a prince!” “Oh! wife,” replied Kingsburgh, “you know little how this good prince has lived of late; this will be a feast to him. Besides, to make a formal supper would make the servants suspect something; the less ceremony, therefore, the better; make haste, and come to supper yourself.” Mrs. Macdonald, doubtful of her own capabilities to conduct herself properly before royalty, exclaimed, “I come to supper! I know not how to behave before Majesty!” “You must come,” replied Kingsburgh, “the prince will not eat one bit without you; and you will find it no difficult matter to behave before him, so obliging and easy is he in his conversation.”[1254]
At supper Charles placed Miss Flora on his right hand, and Mrs. Macdonald on his left. He always conferred the above mark of distinction on his young protectress, and whenever she came into any room where he was sitting, he always rose up on her entry. Charles made a hearty supper, and drank a bumper of brandy to the health and prosperity of Kingsburgh and his wife. After supper he smoked a pipe, a practice which he was obliged to adopt in his wanderings, to mitigate a toothache with which he was troubled.[1255] Having drunk a few glasses of wine, and finished his pipe, Charles went to bed.
After Charles went to bed, Miss Flora, at the desire of Mrs. Macdonald, gave her a relation of the prince’s adventures, in as far as she had been personally concerned. When she finished her recital, Mrs. Macdonald asked her what had become of the boatmen who brought the prince and her to Skye. Miss Macdonald answered, that they had been sent directly back to South Uist. Mrs. Macdonald observed that it was wrong to have sent the boat back immediately, as in case of capture on their return, the boatmen might disclose the business which brought them to Skye, and the prince’s pursuers might in consequence overtake him before he could leave that island. Mrs. Macdonald was right in her conjecture; for the boatmen were seized on their return to South Uist, and being threatened with torture, and ultimately with death, revealed all they knew, giving even a minute description of the prince’s dress. To lessen the dangers of a discovery of the prince’s route, Flora advised the prince to change his clothes next day, a proposal which met with his cordial approbation, as he found the female attire very cumbrous.
The luxury of a good bed had not been enjoyed by Charles for many weeks. Three, or at most four, hours’ sleep was all he had generally been accustomed to during his wanderings; but, on the present occasion he slept ten hours without interruption, and might have added a few more to the number, had he not been wakened by Kingsburgh, who was prevailed upon by Miss Macdonald, contrary to his own inclination, to rouse the prince. In talking of Charles’s intended departure, Kingsburgh, acting upon Flora’s suggestion, urged upon the prince the propriety of changing his dress, lest the circumstance of his being in female attire might transpire, and Kingsburgh offered him a Highland dress of his own. Charles at once assented to the proposal; but, to prevent suspicion among the servants, and to keep them in ignorance of the nature and description of the new dress in which Charles was to travel, it was arranged that he should leave the house in the same dress he entered it, and, when out of reach of observation, assume that offered to him by his kind entertainer.
Having dressed himself, the ladies went into his chamber to pin his cap, put on his apron, and adjust the other parts of his dress. Before Miss Macdonald put on the cap, Mrs. Macdonald requested her, in Gaelic, to ask Charles for a lock of his hair. Flora declined, desiring her, at the same time, to make the application herself to his Royal Highness. The prince, though unable to comprehend what they were saying, clearly perceived that they were disputing about something, and, desiring to know the subject of altercation, was informed thereof by Mrs. Macdonald. Charles then told her that her request was granted, and laying down his head upon Flora’s lap, he desired her to cut off a lock. She complied, and divided the destined relic between them. Before leaving the house Kingsburgh thought there was an article of dress that Charles might instantly change without much risk. This was his shoes, which were so much worn that his toes protruded through them. He, therefore, presented a new pair of his own to his Royal Highness, and, taking up the out-worn brogues, said to Charles, “I will faithfully keep them till you are safely in St. James’s; I will introduce myself by shaking them at you, to put you in mind of your night’s entertainment and protection under my roof.” The prince, amused with the quaintness of the idea, could not refrain from smiling, and, to humour the joke, enjoined his host to keep his promise. Kingsburgh kept the shoes as long as he lived, and after his death they were purchased by a zealous Jacobite gentleman, who gave twenty guineas for them.[1256]
On being dressed, the prince partook of breakfast, and having taken a kind leave of Mrs. Macdonald, left Kingsburgh house for Portree, where it had been concerted he should embark for the island of Raasay. He was accompanied by Miss Flora and Kingsburgh, who carried under his arm the suit of clothes designed for the prince. When Charles left the house, Mrs. Macdonald went up stairs to the room in which he had slept, and, folding the sheets in which he had lain, put them carefully aside, declaring that henceforth they should never again be washed or used till her death, when they should serve her as a winding sheet; to which use they were accordingly applied, in fulfilment of injunctions she delivered before her death.[1257] After walking a short distance from the house, Charles and Kingsburgh entered a wood, where the prince threw off his female attire, and put on the clothes which his good friend had provided. These consisted of a tartan short coat and waistcoat, with philibeg and short hose, a plaid, and a wig and bonnet. When Charles had shifted, he embraced Kingsburgh, and thanked him for his valuable services, which he assured him he would never forget. Charles, conducted by a guide, then set out on foot across the hills, and Miss Macdonald took another and a shorter way on horseback, to obtain intelligence, and prevent a discovery.
In consequence of the resolution to proceed to Raasay, Donald Roy had been despatched from Mugstot by Kingsburgh the preceding day, in quest of John Macleod, the young laird of Raasay, to ascertain from him the place of his father’s concealment, in order to communicate to the latter Charles’s design of placing himself under his protection. When it is considered, that Macleod, the laird of Raasay, was himself a fugitive for the part he had taken in the insurrection, such a design may appear singular; but the prince had only a choice of difficulties before him, and the little island of Raasay, which was then clear of troops, appeared to offer the securest retreat. Donald Roy met young Raasay at Portree, who informed him that his father was skulking in Knoydart; but offered to send an express for him, being certain his father would run any risk to serve the prince in his distress. Donald Roy then proposed that he should conduct Charles to the mainland, to the place where old Raasay was; but young Raasay said that such a step would be too dangerous at that time, and that it would be better to conceal the prince in the isle of Raasay till his father should be informed of Charles’s intention to put himself under his protection. As they could not trust a Portree crew, the difficulty of transporting the prince to Raasay, without observation, occurred. Dr. Murdoch Macleod, a brother of young Raasay, who had been wounded at the battle of Culloden, being informed of this dilemma, said he would risk his life once more for the prince, and it having occurred to him that there was a little boat upon a fresh water lake in the neighbourhood, the two brothers, with the aid of some women, by extraordinary exertions, brought the boat to sea, over a Highland mile of land, one half of which was bog, and the other a steep precipice. The two brothers, with the assistance of a little boy, rowed the boat, which was very old and leaky, to Raasay.
Malcolm Macleod, young Raasay’s cousin, who will be frequently mentioned in the sequel, was then in the island. He had been a captain in the prince’s service, and was considered by his cousin a proper person to accompany them on their expedition. They accordingly waited on Malcolm, who offered to provide a boat; but he proposed, that as his cousin, young Raasay, had not been engaged in the insurrection, he should not run any risk by holding communication with the prince, more particularly as Charles could be brought over without his assistance. Young Raasay declared his resolution to see the prince, if the result should be the loss both of his estate and his head; and Malcolm, seeing that any farther attempt to dissuade him would be fruitless, exclaimed, “In God’s name then let us proceed.” Malcolm Macleod pitched upon two strong men, named John Mackenzie and Donald Macfriar, to row the boat; but, when they came to the beach, they declined to leave the shore till informed of their destination. They were then sworn to secrecy, and being told the object of their voyage, professed the utmost alacrity to go to sea. The whole party accordingly set off from Raasay on Monday evening, the 30th of June, and landed about half a mile from Portree. By this time Miss Macdonald had arrived at the inn, where Donald Roy was in waiting to receive her and the prince. Leaving young Raasay and his brother in the boat, Malcolm Macleod, accompanied by Macfriar, went towards the inn, and in walking from the shore he observed three persons proceeding in the direction of the inn, who happened to be the prince, Neil Mac Eachan, and a little boy who had served as Charles’s guide from Kingsburgh.
Donald Roy Macdonald had left the inn shortly after Miss Macdonald’s arrival, for the purpose of meeting Charles; but, after remaining out about twenty minutes without seeing him, he returned to the house, afraid lest the rain, which fell in torrents, might fester a wound in his foot which he had received at the battle of Culloden, and which was still open. He had scarcely entered the inn, when Macnab, the landlord, informed him that a boy wanted to see him. The boy, whose name was Macqueen, having informed Donald Roy that a gentleman who was waiting a little above the house wished to speak with him, he went out and met the prince, who caught him in his arms. Donald then conducted him into the inn. Charles was wet to the skin, and the water poured down from his clothes. The first thing he asked for was a dram, on taking which he proceeded to shift himself. He put on a dry shirt; but before he had replaced the other habiliments which he had thrown off, a supply of roasted fish, bread, cheese, and butter was brought into the room, which the prince attacked with such avidity that Donald Roy could not help smiling; and being observed by the prince, he remarked that he believed the prince was following the English fashion. “What fashion do you mean?” said the prince. “Why,” replied Donald Roy, “they say the English, when they are to eat heartily, throw off their clothes.” The prince smiling, said, “They are in the right, lest anything should incommode their hands when they are at work.” Asking for some drink, Charles was told that there were no liquids of any sort in the house but whisky and water, not even milk, of which he had desired a little. The only substitute in the room for a tumbler or jug was a dirty-looking bucket, which the landlord used for throwing the water out of his boat, and the mouth of which was broken and rough from the frequent use to which it had been thus applied. Donald Roy, who had previously quaffed out of the bucket, handed it to Charles, who took it out of his hand, and after looking at it, stared Donald in the face. As the landlord was in the room, Donald was afraid that, from the shyness of Charles to drink out of a dish to which no objection perhaps had ever before been stated, he might think he had a visitor of distinction in his house, and he therefore went up to Charles, and in a gentle whisper desired him to drink out of the obnoxious vessel without ceremony. Charles taking the hint, put the pail to his head, and took a hearty draught of water.[1258]