The prince and Malcolm Macleod remained in the hut till seven o’clock in the morning, when Charles, taking the little baggage in his hand, walked out, and desired Malcolm to follow him. Macleod took the bundle out of Charles’s hand, and followed him in silence till out of sight of the cow-house, when Charles taking a direction Malcolm did not like, this faithful adherent went up to him and asked him where he was going, as he was afraid that he might fall into the hands of one of the numerous military parties, who were dispersed over the island. “Why, Macleod, (replied Charles,) I now throw myself entirely into your hands, and leave you to do with me what you please; only I want to go to Strath, Mackinnon’s country. I hope you will accompany me, if you think you can lead me safe enough into Strath.” Malcolm declared that he would go with his royal highness wherever he pleased, and offered to bring him safe into that part of Skye which belonged to the chief of Mackinnon, provided he would consent to go by sea; but Macleod objected to a journey over land which he considered would be attended with dangers from the soldiers. Charles, however, insisted on going by land, and observed that they could now do nothing without danger. The better to prevent a discovery, Charles proposed that he should act the part of Macleod’s servant, and that he should assume the name of Lewis Caw, there being at the time a young surgeon of that name, who had been in the prince’s service, skulking in Skye, where he had some relations. Observing that his scarlet tartan waistcoat with gold twist buttons, was finer than that worn by Macleod, which was of plain ordinary tartan, Charles exchanged it for Macleod’s. Then taking the bag which contained his linen out of Malcolm’s hands, Charles threw it over his shoulder, and set out on his perilous journey, preceded by the faithful Malcolm, who, to complete the deception, had proposed that Charles should keep up his new character of a gilly, or footman, by walking in the rear.
Strath, the country of the Mackinnons, was at a considerable distance, and the route to it which these two travellers took lay through one of the wildest and most mountainous districts of the island. Though a good pedestrian, Malcolm could scarcely keep his distance ahead of Charles, whose locomotive powers were surprising, there being few persons who could match him at walking. Alluding to his celerity of foot, he told Malcolm that provided he got out of musket-shot, he had no dread of a pursuit by English soldiers, but he had not the same confidence if chased by a party of Highland militia. He asked Malcolm what they would do in the event of meeting any person among the mountains, who might attempt to kill or take them. “That depends upon their numbers,” replied Malcolm; “if there should be no more than four of them, I’ll engage to manage two.” “And I,” rejoined Charles, “will engage to manage the other two.” Malcolm, in his turn, asked Charles what they should do if attacked by a party of English soldiers, “Fight, to be sure,” was the reply.
As Malcolm expected that they would fall in with some of the country people before they came to the end of their journey, by whom, from his being well known in the island, he might be recognised, he desired Charles not to evince any anxiety when he (Malcolm) should speak to them, but remove to a short distance and sit down till the conversation ended. They met a few of these people from time to time, on which occasion Charles not only observed the injunction of Malcolm, but superadded the customary menial duty, of touching his bonnet when addressed by his supposed master. With the exception of a bottle of brandy, the two travellers appear to have had no other sustenance during their long and fatiguing journey. When reduced to a single glass, Charles urged Malcolm to take it, lest he should faint with the excessive fatigue. Malcolm refused, and insisted that the prince himself should drink it, but Charles resolutely refused, and compelled Malcolm to drain the bottle. Malcolm then hid the bottle in a thick bush of heath, where he found it about three years thereafter. Honest Macleod long preserved it “as a curious piece,” which he expected would one day make a figure in Westminster.[1265]
When opportunity offered, the prince and Malcolm relieved the tediousness of the journey, by conversing on a variety of topics. The conversation happening to turn upon Lord George Murray, Charles observed that his lordship, whether from ignorance or with a view to betray him, he would not say, misconducted himself in not obeying orders, and that in particular, for two or three days before the battle of Culloden, Lord George scarcely did anything he desired him to do. When Malcolm told him of the many atrocities committed after that battle, he appeared amazed, and said, “Surely that man who calls himself the duke, and pretends to be so great a general, cannot be guilty of such cruelties. I cannot believe it.” Talking of the fatigues he was obliged to undergo, the prince said, “Do you not think, Macleod, that God Almighty has made this person of mine for doing some good yet? When I was in Italy, and dining at the king’s (his father’s) table, very often the sweat would have been coming through my coat with the heat of the climate, and now that I am in a cold country, where the climate is more trying, and exposed to different kinds of fatigues, I really find I agree equally with both. I have had (pointing to his kilt) this philibeg on now for some days, and I find I do as well with it as any of the best breeches I ever put on. I hope in God, Macleod, to walk the streets of London with it yet.”[1266] A man holding such sentiments as these was not likely to be easily discouraged.
When approaching Mackinnon’s bounds, Malcolm stated to the prince his apprehensions, that, disguised as he was, he was afraid he would still be recognised by some of Mackinnon’s people, who had been out in his service. He, therefore, suggested that Charles should disguise himself still further. The prince then proposed to blacken his face with powder; but Macleod objected to this plan, which, he said, would tend rather to discover than to conceal him. “Then,” observed Charles, “I must be put into the greatest dishabille possible;” and pulling off his wig, and putting it into his pocket, took out a dirty white napkin, which Malcolm, at his desire, tied about his head close to his eyebrows. He then put off his bonnet, tore the ruffles from his shirt, and took the buckles out of his shoes, and made Macleod fasten them with strings. Charles now asked his friend if he thought he would still be recognised, and on Malcolm answering that he thought he would, Charles said, “I have so odd a face, that no man that ever saw me once but would know me again.” In Malcolm’s opinion, Charles, though almost a Proteus, could never disguise his majestic mien and carriage; and he declared that there was not a person who knew what the air of a noble or great man was, that would not, upon seeing the prince, however disguised he might be, at once perceive something about him that was not ordinary,—something of the stately and grand.[1267]
They had not gone far after this conversation, when Malcolm Macleod’s opinion was verified, for no sooner had the travellers entered Strath, than Charles was recognised by two men of Mackinnon’s clan, who had been out in the insurrection. They stared at the prince for a little, and on discovering him, lifted up their hands and wept bitterly. Malcolm begged that they would compose themselves, lest by showing so much concern they might discover the prince. After cautioning them not to mention the meeting to any one, he swore them to secrecy upon his naked dirk, and then dismissed them. They kept their word.
Being within two miles of the laird of Mackinnon’s house, Malcolm asked him if he wished to see the old chief; “No,” said Charles, “by no means. I know Mackinnon to be as good and as honest a man as any in the world; but he is not fit for my purpose at present. You must conduct me to some other house, but let it be a gentleman’s house.” They then proceeded, at Malcolm’s suggestion, to a place called Ellagol, or rather Ellighiul, near Kilvory or Kilmaree, where they arrived in the morning after a journey of twenty-four Highland miles, being upwards of thirty English miles. At Ellagol there lived one John Mackinnon, who had served as captain under the laird of Mackinnon, and had married a sister of Malcolm. Being desirous to ascertain the state of matters in the neighbourhood before conducting Charles into the house of his brother-in-law, Malcolm left the prince at a little distance from the house, and went forward to make the necessary inquiries. He found that Mackinnon was from home; and on informing his sister that he had come to stay a short time at Ellagol, if he could do so with safety, she assured him that he would be perfectly safe, as there were no military people about the place, and that he was very welcome. Malcolm then told her that he had nobody along with him but one Lewis Caw, son of Mr. Caw, a surgeon in Crieff, whom, being a fugitive like himself, he had engaged as his servant, but that he had fallen sick. Mrs. Mackinnon felt interested in the stranger, and requested her brother to bring him in.
Charles accordingly entered with the baggage on his back, and, taking off his bonnet, made a low bow, and sat down at a distance from Malcolm. Mrs. Mackinnon looked at the prince, and instantly her sympathy was excited. “Poor man!” she exclaimed, “I pity him. At the same time, my heart warms to a man of his appearance.” Malcolm having told his sister that he was almost famishing with hunger, she set before him a plentiful Highland breakfast. Charles still sitting at a respectful distance, Malcolm invited him, as there were no strangers in the house, to draw near and share with him, there being abundance for both. Charles appeared very backward to obey the summons to eat, and said that though in an humble station, he knew better how to conduct himself than by sitting at the same table with his master; but Malcolm pretended to insist upon compliance, Charles rose from his seat, made a profound bow, and advancing towards the table, sat down, and attacked the viands without farther ceremony.
In the course of their journey, Charles and his companion had fallen into a bog during the night, and as their feet and legs were still dirty, Malcolm desired the servant-maid in Gaelic, as she could not speak English, to bring some water into the room, and as he was much fatigued, to wash them. Whilst in the act of washing Macleod’s feet, he said to the girl, “You see that poor sick man there. I hope you’ll wash his feet too: it will be a great charity; for he has as much need as I have.” “No such thing,” said she, “although I wash the master’s feet, I am not obliged to wash the servant’s. What! he’s but a low country woman’s son. I will not wash his feet indeed.” Malcolm, however, with much entreaty, prevailed upon the girl to wash Charles’s feet and legs; but being rather rough in her treatment, he implored Malcolm to desire her not to rub so hard.[1268]
After this operation the wearied travellers went to bed; and at the desire of Malcolm, Mrs. Mackinnon went out of the house, and sat down upon a neighbouring knoll, where she kept watch, whilst her guests remained in bed. Charles, who had thrown himself upon the bed in his clothes, slept two hours only; but Malcolm slept much longer. When Malcolm awoke, he was surprised to find Charles out of bed dandling Mrs. Mackinnon’s child, singing to it, and appearing as alert as if he had been in bed all night. He expressed a hope that the little boy—Neil Mackinnon—whom he carried in his arms, would be one day a captain in his service.