A most cordial reception was given to Lochiel and his clan by the Prince, after which the Marquis of Tullibardine unfurled the standard, amidst unbounded enthusiasm. It was made of white and blue silk. Meanwhile the Laird of Keppoch was observed advancing with a contingent of 300 of his Macdonells. At the head of the diminutive force thus made up, Prince Charles embarked on a contest with a power the most formidable in Europe. And the daring of this small band was even more conspicuous when they at once determined to march direct on the capital of the kingdom. Glenfinnan, formed not unlike an amphitheatre, and easy of access for all parts of the Western Highlands, was admirably fitted for the rendezvous.
The morning march of the little army took the route alongside of an arm of the sea named Lochiel (the same from which the chief takes his modern title) to Corpach. Here they encamped the first night, afterwards continuing their way up the Braes of Lochaber, Blair Athole, and towards the City of Perth, which they occupied as an intermediate resting place. A few days further march brought them within a short distance of Edinburgh. On nearing the capital a halt was made at Duddingston, and a council was held, at which it was decided to detach Lochiel's force to make the advance and demand the surrender of the city. The Camerons having been the first arrivals at Glenfinnan, may have been the cause of this selection. Lochiel having received some injury from a fall off his horse on the journey, he was unable to accompany his clansmen. Cameron of Earrachd consequently succeeded to the command of this important mission, and its success is matter of history. The events of the '45 are introduced into the career of Alan (the son) somewhat irrelevantly, but only to connect the latter with the singular incident that sixty-two years afterwards it fell to his lot to have been ordered by Sir Arthur Wellesley to take possession of the Citadel of Copenhagen (1807). Taking leave now of Prince Charles and his Highlanders, with their fortunes and their failures, the narrative of Alan Cameron will proceed without further divergence.
Chapter III.
It was during these turbulent times that Alan Cameron passed his infantile years—he was four years of age before he saw his father, and, although it was hoped that the settlement of the difficulties which had existed would favour his career in life, exempt from the toils and strifes of war, it was not so ordained, as the narrative will prove.
Alan was the oldest son of a family of three sons and three daughters, some of whom found meet employment subsequently in his regiment. Their education was conducted as customary in those days by resident tutors from Aberdeen and St Andrews. With one of these Alan, on reaching a suitable age, went to the latter University for one or two sessions to complete his education. As the oldest son, it was intended that on arriving at a certain age he should relieve his father of the care and management of the lands and stock, and become the responsible representative of the family at home; while it was arranged that of the other sons, Donald was to enter the naval service of the Dutch East India Company, and the youngest, Ewan, was to find a commission in one of the Fencible Corps of the county of Argyll. But this arrangement was not to be, especially as regards the eldest and youngest sons. A circumstance of melancholy interest occurred before the former had taken to the succession of the farm, or the other had arrived at the age to be an effective officer of his regiment, which had the effect of exactly reversing these intentions. The occurrence referred to was of a tragical nature, and caused the utmost sensation among the families of the district, inasmuch as relationship was so general there that whatever brought affliction to the hearth of one family, would leave its portion also at the threshold of the others. Alan, like other youths, employed much of his juvenile years in the sports of a Highland country life—fox-hunting, deer-stalking, and fishing for salmon on the Lochy; at all of which he was more than ordinarily successful. The nearest house to his father's was that of another Cameron—chieftain of a considerable tribe (Mac Ile' Onaich or Sliochd Ile' Onaich), who had recently died of wounds received at Culloden. His widow and children occupied the house at Strone. The lady is reputed to have been very handsome, and would apparently answer Donachadh Ban's description of Isabel og an or fhuilt bhuidhe, leastways, to borrow a word from the Cockney—she was styled par excellance, a Bhanntrach Ruadh. Alan, like a friendly kinsman, was most generous in sharing the successes of his gun and rod with the widowed lady, for which, no doubt, she expressed her acknowledgments to the youthful sportsman. The course of this commendable neighbourship was rather unexpectedly interrupted by some words of misunderstanding which occurred between Alan and a gentleman (also a Cameron) who was closely related to the widow's late husband. He was known as Fear Mhorsheirlich; had been out in the '45 when quite a youth, and escaped to Holland, from which he had only returned a few months previous to the incident of this narrative. Contemporaries spoke of him as being most accomplished, and of gallant bearing. The real nature of the dispute has not descended sufficiently authentic to justify more minute reference than that rumour assigned it to have been an accusation that Alan was imprudently intimate with the handsome widow of Strone (a Bhanntrach Ruadh). The delicate insinuation was resented by Alan in language probably more plain than polite. Mr Cameron was Alan's senior by some twenty years or so, but notwithstanding this, his high spirit could not brook the rough retort of the accused; and, much to Alan's confusion, the result was that he received a peremptory demand to apologise or arrange a meeting for personal satisfaction. As he declined to return the one, he was obliged to grant the desperate alternative. Reading this account of men going out to engage in personal combat for a cause so small, will lead us to consider that such a result ought to have been prevented by the interposition of friends. But it must not be overlooked that the customs of the times are very much ameliorated from what prevailed in those days (1772). It is probable that even then if the management of the affair had been confided to skilful diplomatists the meeting might have been averted. Friends of such conciliating habits were either not at hand, or they were not consulted; and, as men equal in high spirits, the principals could not volunteer any compromise. Alan's chief anxiety was how to keep the event secret from his parents and family, therefore, he quietly repaired to a relative to request his attendance the following morning as his friend for the occasion. It is said that this gentleman used his utmost powers of dissuasion, although unsuccessful—determination had, in the interval of a few hours, become too settled for alteration. Alan, as the challenged, was, according to duelling etiquette, entitled to the choice of weapons and place of meeting. Although the pistol had in a measure superseded the rapier in England, the broadsword remained the favourite weapon in the north when required for the purpose of personal satisfaction. Highlanders had always a preference for the weapon named by Ossian—An Lann tanna—and by the modern bards—Tagha nan Arm. Alan decided on making choice of the steel blade, and named a certain obscure spot on the banks of the Lochy for the meeting on the following day at the grey hour of the morning. His difficulty now was how to get possession of one of these implements of war without exciting suspicion or inquiries. They numbered more than one in the armory of every Highland household, and in the case of those in his father's house they were preserved with a care due to articles which had been often used with effect in the past. Among them was one which had been out in the campaigns of 1689 (Dundee's), 1715 (Mar's), and in 1745-6. It was of Spanish manufacture, and remarkable for the length and symmetry of its blade, in consequence of which it received the sobriquet of Rangaire Riabhach.[B] In his failure to find the keys of the arms depository, he bethought him to make a confident and enlist the sympathies of an elderly lady, who had been a member of the family since the days of his childhood. The aged Amazon not only promised her aid, but highly approved, and even encouraged, the spirit of her youthful relative. Having access to the keys of the armory, the Rangaire was soon in Alan's hands, and with it he repaired to the place appointed, "to vindicate his own honour and give satisfaction to his antagonist."
The time of year when this event took place was in the early days of autumn. Daylight and the combatants arrived on the scene together. Vague particulars of the preliminaries between them have been variously retailed, but they are not necessary to the narrative, and therefore not referred to. The fact that the elder Cameron was reputed to be a skilled swordsman, also that it was not the first time he had met his foes in the field, may have had some effect on the nerves of his younger opponent, but there was no outward indication of it. The home-taught countryman, however, must have felt that he was standing face to face with no ordinary opponent. Alan, like the generality of young men, had such practice in the use of the weapon as to make him acquainted with the cuts and guards. The superiority of Mr Cameron was at first apparent and proved, inasmuch as he not only kept himself for some time uninjured, but inflicted a severe cut on Alan's left arm. This blow may be said to have brought the conflict to its sudden and fatal termination. The pain, together with the humiliation, roused Alan's wrath to desperation. It became manifest to the only two friends present, that the life of one, if not of the two combatants, would be sacrificed; but they found themselves quite powerless to restrain the rage of the wounded principal. Their anticipations were not long in being confirmed. The elder Cameron fell from a blow delivered on the head by the powerful arm of his opponent. The force may be imagined when it is stated that it was what is known as No. 7 cut, and that the wounded man's sword in defending was forced into his own forehead. He lived just long enough to reach Strone house—a mile or so distant. It is impossible, except to those who have experienced a similar trial, to estimate the state of feeling such a painful scene produced on the three now remaining on the field. Time, however, was not to be trifled with, for, although, there were no "men in blue" to make prisoners of the breakers of the peace; yet the vanquished combatant had friends who would not hesitate to take life for life. Alan's achates at once thought of that probability, or of revenge in some form. They, therefore, hurried him away from the field and across the river Lochy. A short consultation decided that he should remove himself entirely from the Cameron country for the time being. This was concurred in by Alan, who girded his claymore and determined on making direct for his uncle's house in Morvern—(Maclean of Drimnin)—distant about sixty miles, where he arrived without resting or drawing breath. The advice of his counsel, and the decision arrived at, proved to be not unnecessary, as the sequel proved. The fallen man was one of the cadets of a numerous tribe, and they would naturally, in accordance with the habit of the times, seek to avenge the death of their kinsman. They sought for the slayer of their friend with diligence and zeal. Their search was far and wide; but, fortunately for the fugitive, and thanks to the vigilance of his relatives, his pursuers were defeated in their attempt to capture their intended victim. The consternation of the uncle (Drimnin), on learning the cause of his nephew's sudden visit, may be surmised; but what was done could not be undone. When the Laird was satisfied with Alan's version, that Morsheirlich fell in fair fight, brought about by himself, his displeasure somewhat relented. Affection and sympathy mingled in the old Laird's bosom, and he decided to befriend his unfortunate nephew at all hazard. It was conjectured that the search of the avengers would be directed towards this district, where Alan's relatives were numerous, and where he would likely betake himself in this emergency. That he might elude his pursuers with greater certainty, the Laird of Drimnin had him escorted across the Sound of Mull by some trusty kinsmen, to the charge of another Maclean (Pennycross), and with whom he was to remain until he received further instructions respecting his future destination. The grief and revenge of Morsheirlich's friends had not yet subsided, and would not, for years to come, so that Alan would be unwise to return to his native home, or place himself in their path.
The Collector of His Majesty's Customs at the Port of Greenock was an immediate relation to the Laird of Drimnin by marriage, and a correspondence was entered on with him with the view of ascertaining his opinion as to what was best to be done for Alan. Negotiations occupied more time for their conduct at that time than in the present day; at any rate nothing satisfactory was proposed to Alan, so that for a couple of years he continued wandering up and down the island of Mull, and through the glens of Morvern, entirely under the guidance of his uncle. At last a request came from the Collector to send the fugitive to him, that he might find employment for him in his own office. The uncle decreed, rather against Alan's grain, that the offer of clerkship should meanwhile be accepted. He remained in this occupation for several months, until he received an invitation from another friend residing in Leith. This gentleman wrote to say that there was now an opportunity of giving him service in an enterprise likely to be congenial to "a man of metal" such as he conceived Alan to be. The war of American Independence had commenced, and the employment which the Leith friend proposed was that Alan should join a privateer which was fitting out in an English port, armed with letters of marque, to capture and destroy American shipping. Alan answered the invitation by repairing to Leith in person with all speed. The nature of the service offered, however, did not accord with his ideas of honourable warfare; in fact, he considered it more akin to piracy, and not such as a gentleman should take part in. He had no affection, he said, for clerkship, but he had still less for the life of a pirate.
While Alan was oscillating in this manner, he learned that another relative of his mother's, Colonel Alan Maclean of Torloisk, who had emigrated to one of the North American colonies some years previously, had received a commission to embody a regiment of those of his countrymen who had become residents on free-grants of land at the same time with himself. To this gentleman Alan decided on going. Soldiering was more genial to his nature than marine freebooting, and he calculated on Colonel Maclean's assistance in that direction. (This Colonel Maclean's grand-daughter was Miss Clephane Maclean, afterwards Marchioness of Northampton.) Arrived in America, Alan was received kindly by his relative, and being a soldier himself he viewed the past event in Alan's life as of a nature not entirely without a certain amount of recommendation to a wanderer in search of fame. Alan was not long in the country when Colonel Maclean added him to his list of volunteers, in a body, which was soon afterwards enrolled as the "Royal Highland Emigrant Corps."
(To be Continued).