HE FIGHTS THE LAIRD OF BARRA.
"Rob Roy had two especial qualities," says the "New Picture of
Scotland" (published in 1807): "he spent his revenue generously, and
was a true friend to the widow and the orphan."
On his return to Portnellan, he now hoped that, by the treasure which
he had judiciously distributed among his people, they might, if the
persecution of them ceased, stock their little farms and take to
cattle-dealing, that they might all live in ease and comfort, and
that his sons might learn some of the arts of peace without
forgetting those of war.
Soon after his return from Glensheil, Rob heard that Grahame of
Killearn, who always treated the tenantry of Montrose with great
severity, had sequestrated, or distrained, the cows and furniture of
a poor woman who lived near the Highland border.
As she was a widow, and more especially as she was the widow of Eoin
Raibach, who had fallen at the storming of Inversnaid, he immediately
visited her cottage, and she burst into tears when she beheld him,
exclaiming,--
"MacGregor, _mo comraich ort_!" (my protection is thee.)
"And never was that appeal made to me in vain by the poor," replied
Rob; "I shall be your buckler and your sword of vengeance if
requisite, widow. How much do you owe Killearn?"
"Three hundred marks; for which he has seized upon my two cows, the
food of my children--my spinning-wheel, which gives them
clothing--our beds and everything."
"When comes he here?" asked Rob, grimly.
"To-morrow; to-morrow will see us desolate and forlorn."
"Not so, widow. Here are the three hundred marks; pay the greedy
vulture, and be sure that you get a receipt duly signed."
Duly as the morrow came, the legal messengers of Killearn arrived,
with carts to convey away the chattels of the widow, who paid them,
and received a receipt; but about a mile distant from her house, they
were met by Rob Roy, who, with a cocked pistol in his hand, forced
them to hand over the money to him. He then gave them a severe
beating with a heavy stick, advised them to choose another trade than
the law, and returned the three hundred marks to the widow.
We are told that, under circumstances nearly similar, he relieved a
tenant on the Montrose lands who was three years in arrear of rent.
When the poor farmer offered to repay Rob's loan, the latter
replied,--
"No, no; I will get it back from Grahame of Killearn--yes, every
farthing, by Patrick of the Holy Crook! so keep the money, farmer."
MacGregor now leased some pasture-lands further among the mountains,
in that place with which his name is much associated, the braes of
Balquhidder, a name which signifies the dwelling-place where five
glens open.
He occupied the farmhouse of Inverlochluvig, at the head of the
braes, where there was excellent pasture for black-cattle and sheep;
and there was born, in 1724, his youngest son, Robin Oig, whose
stirring story and sad fate created a deep interest in future years.
Like all his brothers, young Robin was baptized in water brought by
Paul Crubach from the holy well of St. Fillan; and during the
ceremony was held over his father's broadsword, for it was a Highland
superstition that the voices of children who died without receiving
this warlike consecration were heard faintly wailing in the woods and
other lonely places at night.
Robin grew a sturdy but wild young Highlander; and afterwards bore
that sword with honour in the ranks of the 42nd Regiment.
At Muirlaggan, in Balquhidder, Rob built a comfortable house for his
mother, then a very aged woman; and he began to hope that the
government troops, the civil authorities, Athole, Montrose, and
Killearn, had forgotten him, and that he would be permitted to spend
a few years of his life in peace; but he hoped in vain!
To the land he now leased or occupied in Balquhidder he had an
hereditary claim, as a descendant of Dugald Ciar Mhor; but the
MacLarens of Invernentie had some similar right, and ere long this
proved the cause of much strife and bloodshed.
With great generosity Rob offered a portion of his share of the
Spanish treasure to redeem another bond which a neighbouring
proprietor held over the lands of his nephew, MacGregor of Glengyle.
Hamish MacLaren of Invernentie had lent a sum of money to Glengyle,
and by the tenor of the bond, the lands so held, or named therein,
"if the money was not repaid within ten years, were to be _forfeited
to the lender_, though the sum was less than half their value."
Knowing well that the utmost advantage would be taken of this unjust
contract, Rob Roy gave his nephew money sufficient to repay
Invernentie.
As the bond had but a few months now to run, Glengyle, with gratitude
and joy, hastened to his creditor and offered the money so generously
lent by his uncle.
Hamish MacLaren was a man of rough and forbidding exterior, with a
low forehead and black eyebrows that were thick, shaggy, and joined
in one. His face was one of the lowest of the Celtic type, and
consequently expressed intense cunning, falsehood, and cruelty. He
received Glengyle coldly--all the more so, perhaps, because he was a
near kinsman of that MacLaren whom MacAleister had flung into the
millrace at Comar.
"I cannot take the money," said he, bluntly.
"How--wherefore?" asked the other, with surprise.
"Because I cannot find our bond."
"It must and shall be found!" said Glengyle, impetuously.
"Must and _shall_!"
"Yes; there are but three months to run."
"Only three months?" repeated the other, with affected surprise.
"Yes--we have no time to lose."
"After the date at which the bond expires your lands will be
forfeited to me."
"How can you prove that if the bond be lost?"
"Ha, ha! it is recorded in the books of the sheriff of the county.
My friend Killearn looked to that."
"Here is your money--principal and interest," said Glengyle,
crimsoned with fury; "bond or no bond, take it and give me a receipt
in full, or woe unto you, Invernentie!"
But MacLaren was too wary either to accede or to lose his temper. By
an exertion of cunning and flattery, he contrived to cajole Glengyle,
who promised to wait until the actual bond could be found; and for
the three following months MacLaren kept sedulously out of his way,
avoiding all visits, and receiving all messages and letters with
studied silence; and on the very day on which the stated time
expired, he took legal means to get himself _infeft_ in the lands
which he alleged to be forfeited. At the same time, through Grahame
of Killearn, he served notices upon young MacGregor to remove from
these lands, with his family, tenants, and cattle, within eight days.
These proceedings were rendered darker by the circumstance that
Glengyle was labouring under a severe illness, which made him totally
incapable of defending himself.
Rob Roy was filled with rage on hearing of these lawless proceedings
against his nephew; for to him they seemed but a repetition of those
severities to which he had been subjected by Montrose.
"Greumoch," said he, "we cannot suffer Glengyle to be treated thus;
get our lads together, and we shall teach Invernentie a lesson he is
not likely to forget."
The _lads_ were soon collected, and at the head of two hundred of
them Rob marched into Strathfillan, whither, he heard, MacLaren of
Invernentie had gone to attend a fair which is usually held there on
the 3rd of July.
He traversed the vast extent of the fair--for the strath was covered
with great herds of cattle--searching in vain for Invernentie, until
he ascertained that, having sold all his stock, he had taken his way
homeward through Glendochart.
In those days nothing was paid for pasturing cattle; but as roads
were made, fields inclosed, and grass became valuable, the armed
drovers were forced to bargain for it in their routes to those fairs,
and more especially to Falkirk and Carlisle--innovations which they
bitterly hated.
A rapid march over the hills brought Rob and his men upon the
homeward path, at a point where it is joined by the road from
Tyndrum, some time before Invernentie could possibly have passed.
Rob was assured of this, and ere long he saw a party of armed men,
some of whom were mounted, coming along that beautiful valley which
the Dochart traverses in its course to the Tay.
That the men on foot were well equipped was evident, for the long
barrels of their Spanish muskets glittered in the sunshine, which
streamed athwart the winding valley, bathing in gold and purple light
the hills on one side, and casting into deep-blue shadow those on the
other.
The travellers, who were about twenty in number, on seeing the
MacGregors posted on the highway, began to prepare for service, by
loading their muskets; the footmen unslung their targets; the
horsemen loosened their swords in the sheaths, and looked to the
priming of their pistols, as they all came briskly up; and on Rob Roy
stepping forward to meet them, he found among the mounted men the
identical laird of Invernentie whom he sought, with Campbell of
Aberuchail, Stirling of Carden, and another gentleman whom he did not
recognize, but who was followed closely by several well-armed gillies
on foot.
"What does this meeting bode, MacGregor?" asked the baronet of
Aberuchail; "peace or war?"
"That is as may be," replied Rob; "my present business is with Hamish
MacLaren of Invernentie."
The latter smiled grimly, and under his black brows his keen, fierce,
hazel eyes glared forth like those of a polecat, as he said,--
"You must first speak with one who has travelled a long way to see
you, and who moreover is a friend of mine."
"A bad recommendation; but to whom do you refer?" asked MacGregor.
"He refers to _me_," said the strange traveller. "I have indeed come
a long way to see you, MacGregor, and we meet most opportunely."
Rob surveyed the speaker with some surprise. He was a man of great
stature and apparent strength, handsome, athletic, and in the prime
of life. His sword, pistols, dirk, and powder-horn were richly
mounted with silver; he had three feathers in his bonnet, indicating
that he was a chief; but MacGregor recognized neither his badge nor
his tartan.
"And who may you be, sir, that have been so desirous to see me?" he
asked, haughtily.
"I am Roderick MacNeil of Barra," replied the other, on which Rob
saluted him by uncovering his head; for the MacNeils of Barra were an
old family in the Western Isles, famous for their antiquity--which
dated back to the days of the first Scottish settlers--for their
valour, and for their vanity: thus one of them, named Rory the
Turbulent, who lived in the days of James VI., in the vastness of his
Highland bombast, had a herald who proclaimed, in Gaelic, daily, from
the summit of his castle,--
"Hear ye people, and listen all ye nations! MacNeil of Barra having
finished his dinner, all the kings and princes of the earth have
liberty to dine."
The chief who now confronted Rob Roy was considered one of the best
swordsmen in Scotland; and certainly he was the first in his native
Hebrides. He was possessed of a high spirit, with a romantic love of
adventure. He had heard of Rob Roy's skill in the use of his weapons
and his renown in arms; so he determined with his own hands to pub
his skill and valour to the test.
"And so," said he, while surveying him from head to foot, "you are
Rob Roy MacGregor, whom I have so long wished to meet."
"For what purpose?" asked the other, haughtily; "I never saw you
before, MacNeil, and by your bearing I care little if I never see you
again."
"I have heard much of your fame, MacGregor, and I have come
hither--I, Roderick MacNeil of Barra--to prove myself a better
swordsman than you!"
At these words he leaped from his horse, tossed the bridle to one of
his gillies, and drew his sword and dirk.
"Roderick MacNeil," said Rob, calmly, "I have no doubt of your being
what you assert--the Chief of Barra, and of a noble and ancient
lineage; a better swordsman, and it may be a better man, than I; but
I have no wish to prove it. My business is with Invernentie here,
and I never fight a man without a reason. With you I have no
quarrel; so keep your sword for the service of Scotland and her king."
"I do so keep my sword; but you must fight me, nevertheless," said
the other, imperiously.
"Fie, sir!" replied Rob, whose temper was rising; "this is a bad
trade you have taken to."
"Trade?"
"Dioul, yes!--molesting honest people on the open highway."
"Truly the taunt comes well from you--you, who have kept the whole
Highland border in hot water since Dundee fell at Rin Ruari!"
On the face of MacLaren of Invernentie there was a malicious smile,
which compelled Rob to seem calm; for he feared that if he fell in
this impending conflict, his nephew's interest would infallibly
suffer by the wiles and roguery of Invernentie and Killearn,
especially if aided by the bad influence of Athole and Montrose.
"Barra," said he, "I never draw my sword without a just cause of
quarrel. Go your way in peace, and leave me to pursue mine."
Then Barra is recorded to have taunted him by saying,--
"_You are afraid--your valour is in words._"
"You shall have more than words," replied MacGregor, furiously, as he
unsheathed his sword. "You have come a long way to see me, and shall
not go back without having done a portion of your errand. My hand is
strong."
"And my sword sharp and sure."
"Neither sharper nor surer than mine, Barra," replied Rob Roy.
"That we shall see, MacGregor Campbell."
"And deeply shall you feel," said Rob, more than ever enraged at
being named Campbell. "Greumoch," he added, "stand by the side of
Invernentie, and if he attempts either escape or foul play, slice him
down with your axe. And now, Barra, have at you!"
While all who were on the pathway which traversed the glen assembled
in a large and excited circle around them, the two combatants engaged
with great fury, and not a sound was heard but the clash of their
blades and their deep breathing. Both were brave to the utmost, and
both were equally skilled in the use of their weapons; but while
sentiments of mere family pride and military bravado animated Barra,
MacGregor was inspired by just indignation at being thus baited and
molested by a total stranger, and forced into an unexpected duel, at
a time so critical to the interests of his household and his nephew,
who by illness was unable to protect himself.
Both were so exceedingly well matched in strength and skill, that for
more than twenty minutes neither had in any way the advantage of the
other, till Barra made a feint, and then a fierce thrust at Rob's
bare throat; but he parried it by a circular whirl of his claymore,
which nearly wrenched the other's weapon away.
During a second thrust Rob caught the blade of Barra in the iron
loops of his basket-hilt, but being a younger man, the latter bounded
agilely back, and released his sword in time to save it, ere Rob
could snap the blade, or lock in and use his dirk.
After a time Barra's sword shook in his hand and bent--it was soon
full of deep notches; and fatigue rendered his arm weary, He was
compelled to give ground step by step, till at last MacGregor tossed
aside his shield, and throwing all his strength into one tremendous
double-handed stroke, beat down his guard, snapped his blade like a
withered reed, and gave him a wound so severe that he "nearly cut off
his sword-arm, which confined him to the village of Killearn for
three months."
"When next we meet," cried Barra, as he fell into the arms of
Stirling of Carden, "our parting shall be different!"
But, fortunately, they never chanced to meet again.