Among all the gallant gentlemen who risked life and estate in this rising there is no figure more attractive than that of the 'Gentle Lochiel.' He had for years before the rebellion been the mainstay of the Jacobite party. No man in the Highlands carried so much weight as he, partly from his position, but more from his talents and the charm of his character. 'Wise' and 'gentle' are the words that were applied to him, and with all the qualities of a high-bred gentleman he combined the simpler virtues of the Highland clansman—faithfulness, courage, and a jealous sense of personal honour. From the very beginning he had seen the folly of the rising. But when he had failed to convince Charles of its hopelessness, he had thrown himself into the movement as if it had been of his own devising. Never did he afterwards reproach Charles by word or look for the ill-fated result.
He and his cousin, Macpherson of Cluny, were at this time hiding among the recesses of Benalder. The road to Inverness ran by within a few miles, and at a little distance lay Lord Loudoun's camp, but so great was the devotion of the clansmen, so admirable their caution and secrecy, that the English commander had not the slightest suspicion that the two most important Jacobite fugitives had for three months been in hiding so near to him. Lochiel had been wounded in the feet at Culloden, and his lameness as well as his dangerous position prevented his going to look for the Prince. He had two brothers, one a doctor and the other a clergyman, both accomplished and bold men, who had also been involved in the Jacobite rebellion. Towards the end of August, news having come to Benalder that the Prince was living near Auchnacarry under the protection of Cameron of Clunes, the two Cameron brothers set off secretly for that country. The Prince with a son of Clunes and the faithful outlaw Patrick Grant were at this time living in a hut in a wood close to Loch Arkaig. It was early on the morning of August 25, the Prince and young Clunes were asleep in the hut, while Patrick Grant kept watch. He must have got drowsy, for waking with a start he saw a party of men approaching. He rushed into the hut and roused the Prince and his companion. Charles had long lived in expectation of such moments. He kept his presence of mind completely, decided that it was too late to fly, and prepared to defend himself. The fowling-pieces were loaded and got into position, and they very nearly received their friends with a volley. Dr. Cameron in his narrative describes the Prince's appearance thus: 'He was barefoot; had an old black kilt coat on and philibeg and waistcoat, a dirty shirt and a long red beard, a gun in his hand and a pistol and dirk at his side; still he was very cheerful and in good health.'
Another week they all waited in the neighbourhood of Auchnacarry (the ruined home of the Lochiels). At last a message reached them from Benalder that the passes were free and that they might safely try to join Lochiel. Having parted with his devoted friend Glenaladale, who returned to the coast, the Prince, with Dr. Cameron and Lochgarry, arrived on August 30 at Mellaneuir, at the foot of Benalder. People in hiding have no means of discriminating their friends from their enemies at a little distance. Lochiel seeing a considerable party approaching believed that he was discovered and determined to make a good fight for it. He as narrowly missed shooting Charles as Charles had missed shooting Dr. Cameron the week before. When, however, he recognised the figure in the coarse brown coat, the shabby kilt, and the rough red beard, he hobbled to the door and wanted to receive the Prince on his knees. 'My dear Lochiel,' remonstrated Charles as he embraced him, 'you don't know who may be looking down from these hills.'
In the hut there was a sufficiency of mutton, beef sausages, bacon, butter, cheese, &c., and an anker of whisky, and the Prince was almost overwhelmed by such an excess of luxury. 'Now, gentlemen,' he said with a cheerful air, 'now I live like a Prince.' Charles's wardrobe was as usual most dilapidated, and Cluny's three sisters set at once to work to make him a set of six shirts with their own fair hands, doubtless sewing the most passionate loyalty and infinite regret into their 'seams.'
The hiding-place where the Prince was now concealed was a very curious hut contrived by Cluny in one of the inmost recesses of the hills. It was called 'The Cage,' and was placed in a little thicket on the rocky slope of a hill. The walls were formed by actual growing trees with stakes planted between them, the whole woven together by ropes of heather and birch. Till you were close to the hut it looked merely like a thick clump of trees and bushes. The smoke escaped along the rocks, and the stone being of a bluish colour it could easily pass unnoticed. This hut could only hold six persons at a time, so the party generally divided in this way: one man cooked the food, four played cards, and the last man looked on at the others and possibly smoked!
Probably they played cards and talked and jested over the daily needs and hardships, and spoke little of the disastrous times that lay behind them, or the doubtful hopes that lay before them. Fearing lest the Prince might have to remain in hiding all winter the ingenious Cluny began to fit up a subterranean dwelling, thickly boarded up, where the party would have been in safety and shelter. But in the meantime no efforts were lacking to find a means of escape. Lochiel's brother, the clergyman, a man of great prudence, went secretly to Edinburgh, and there procured a ship and sent it round to a port on the East coast to await the Prince. Succour, however, had come from another quarter; it was known to the Prince and his followers that a certain Colonel Warren was fitting out a couple of ships in France for the purpose of bringing off the Prince, and daily they expected news of their arrival. On September 6 two ships, L'Heureux and La Princesse, appeared at Lochnanuagh. Old Borodale and his two sons immediately fled to the hills, leaving a faithful servant to find out and report to them who the strangers might be. After nightfall, twelve French officers came to the hut where they were hiding and told their errand. Information was at once sent to Glenaladale, who undertook to go to Auchnacarry and send on the news through Cameron of Clunes, he himself not knowing where the Prince was hiding. Any delay, even of a few hours, might be fatal, as the presence of the French ships must sooner or later become known to the authorities at Fort Augustus. To his dismay Glenaladale failed to find Clunes, and only by an accident met with an old woman, who directed him to the place where the latter was hiding. A messenger was at once despatched, and he, happening by a curious chance to meet with Cluny and Dr. Cameron on a dark night in Badenoch, gave them his message, and an express was at once sent to the Cage. On September 13, at one in the morning, the party—which now included Cluny, Lochiel, Macpherson of Breakachie, and some others of the Prince's more important followers—set off for the coast. They travelled by night, remaining in concealment by day, but so lonely was the country, so recklessly high were the Prince's spirits, that one whole day he amused himself by flinging up caps into the air and shooting at them.
Again he passed through the well-known country round Loch Arkaig, past Auchnacarry, the home of the Lochiels, which was lying in ruins, over the rugged hills where he had been hunted like a wild creature a few weeks before, down to the familiar waters of Lochnanuagh, back to the warm-hearted household of Borodale.
A considerable number of Jacobite gentlemen who had lain for months in hiding had been drawn to Lochnanuagh by the report of the landing of the French ships; amongst these were young Clanranald, Glenaladale, and Macdonald of Daleby. On the Prince's ship there sailed with him Lochgarry, John Roy Stuart, Dr. Cameron, and Lochiel. 'The gentlemen as well as commons were seen to weep, though they boasted of being soon back with an irresistible force,' says the newspaper of the day. For the greater part they never came back, never saw again the homes they loved so well. Most were to spend a life of hope deferred and of desperate longings for home, as dependents on a foreign Court. Dr. Cameron was ten years later taken prisoner in London and executed, the last man who suffered as a rebel; Lochiel died two years after he left Scotland, a heart-broken exile. 'Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more nor see his native country.'[9]