ATTACKED BY THE DUKE OF ATHOLE.
Rob having retired further north-west, was living in comparative
peace and ease at Balquhidder, though ever armed, watchful, and on
the alert; but now his old and wanton enemy, the Duke of Athole--an
enemy despite the cavalier sentiments of Tullibardine and his other
sons, and the sympathies of the gentle Duchess Katherine--during the
middle of 1724, made no less than _three_ vigorous attempts to
capture him, for he was still outlawed, and the warrants for his
apprehension were yet in full force against him, with ample rewards
for those who could achieve this hitherto perilous and difficult
task. Of Athole's final attempts we shall briefly relate the success.
In retaliation for the trick so basely played him at the castle of
Blair, Rob had certainly more than once ravaged the estates of the
Duke of Athole, carried off the cattle, and put to the sword several
Drummonds who resisted.
Though he had drawn these reprisals on himself, Athole could as
little forgive such proceedings as his Grace of Montrose; and on his
return from a visit to London he secretly despatched a party of Lord
Polworth's Light Horse up the glens to Balquhidder, at a time when
most of the MacGregors were absent at fairs, or on the mountains
herding cattle.
MacLaren of Invernentie is said to have given them exact information
of Rob's movements, for they came upon him most unexpectedly, during
a fine summer evening when he was superintending a few of his people,
who were cutting turf with the _ceaba_, a long, narrow spade of
peculiar form, used by the Highlanders and Irish. Suddenly there was
a cry of--
"The Redcoats! the Redcoats!" and the women threw down their
keallochs, or creels, as a party of troopers, on light active horses,
dashed round the shoulder of a rocky ridge, and came pellmell among
them, with swords flashing in the sunshine.
Rob had only three men with him, and save their dirks, each was armed
only with a turf-spade. While he swung one of these implements
aloft, to use it like a poleaxe, resolved on making a desperate
defence, its shaft was shattered in his hand, as a trooper adroitly
broke it by a pistol-shot, and then spurred his horse right over him.
Rob lost his dirk, but plunged his skene-dhu deep into the bowels of
the animal, which reared wildly and threw his rider head downward
into the soft bog, where his spurred jack-boots stood upper-most in
the air.
Beaten down again under a shower of sword-blades and clubbed
carbines, MacGregor was made prisoner. He was then mounted on a
horse and carried off, amid the yells, screams, and lamentations of
the women. He was threatened with instant death if he attempted to
resist or escape; and, fortunately, on this occasion, they were
without a rope to bind him; but the officer in command, an Irish
captain, held a cocked pistol in his right hand, and rode by the side
of the prisoner.
"Remember," said he, "that your _head_ may be more easily carried
than your body, if you prove troublesome. Forward--away for
Stirling--away at full speed!" were the orders; and the Light Horse
disappeared with MacGregor, while the turf-cutters flew to arms and
to muster others for rescue and revenge.
This, however, was unnecessary; for, when passing through a glen or
ravine which lies between the church of Balquhidder and Glendochart,
at a place where, on the side of the former, the ground is steep and
rugged, but on the latter has a long and gradual slope towards the
Dochart, Rob suddenly wrenched away the Irishman's pistol, which
exploded in the air, and slipping over his horse's crupper, sprang up
the rocks, where not a single trooper could follow him.
Enraged by the sudden escape of his prisoner, the officer spurred his
horse till the steel rowels tore the flesh; it bounded madly upward
against the rocks, and fell back upon its haunches, half-stunning its
rider; and to this day the place bears the name of _Shiam an
Erinich_, or the "Irishman's Leap."
A few days after this, Rob escaped again by mere coolness and
presence of mind, when in Glenalmond he encountered the same party of
Polworth's Light Horse, who instantly knew and greeted him with a
shout; while some drew their swords, others loaded their carbines,
and all spurred their horses on. Rob was quite alone; he had been
separated from his eldest son and followers, with twenty of whom he
had been purchasing cattle at a neighbouring fair.
No succour was near. The place of this _rencontre_ is a savage and
solitary pass, overlooked by hills about fourteen hundred feet in
height, the steep sides being pressed so close together as barely to
leave space at the bottom for a narrow path and the brawling river's
bed. On their sides some meagre shrubs sprout from the fissured
rocks, beneath the shadow of which the Almond looks sombre, dark, and
inky, save when churned into brown foam, as it thunders over a linn,
or chafes on the obstructing boulders.
At the upper end of this lonely pass stands a grey and time-worn
block of stone, eight feet in height, which marks the grave of the
Scottish Homer--Ossian, the son of Fingal.
In the wildest and narrowest path of this mountain gorge, Rob
suddenly found himself confronted, about nightfall, by the same Irish
captain and his party of horse. In an angle of the narrow way, where
an overhanging rock protected him on one side and the deep river's
bed on the other, he stood facing them, sword in hand, and covered by
his round shield; thus the troopers could see nothing beyond him.
As only one at a time could attack him, the leading trooper was
somewhat impressed by the resolute expression of his well-bearded
face, his stature, and firm posture of defence.
"I know whom you seek," said he, sternly; "but I swear that if you do
not instantly depart, not one of you shall return alive! In less
than half an hour my men will have possession of the bridge of
Buchanty, and your retreat will be cut off."
On hearing this, the soldiers began to rein back their horses.
"Retire in time," resumed MacGregor, "and tell him who sent you that,
if any more of his pigmy race come hither, by the bones of our dead,
I will hang them up to feed the eagles!"
He then placed his horn to his mouth and blew a loud and ringing
blast, to which hill and river echoed.
On this, believing that the whole clan were concealed among the
rocks, from, whence a fire would be opened upon them, the troopers
seized by a panic, wheeled round their horses and retired at full
gallop, while Rob ascended the cliffs, and leisurely pursued his way
in another direction.
The government, in despair perhaps, were now ceasing to molest Rob
Roy, and the last time troops were sent against him was the sudden
despatch of a strong force of infantry from the castle of Stirling,
under Colonel Grahame.
This party were seen on their march to Callendar by some MacGregors,
who were driving a herd of cattle along the banks of the Forth, so
Rob was immediately apprised of the unwelcome visitors. In an hour,
the whole fighting men of the braes of Balquhidder were in arms, and
had scouts posted at every pass and avenue; but as Rob had no wish to
subject his people to severity on his own account--for it was _he_
alone whom Grahame had orders to capture--he retired further off into
the mountains, a precaution he would not have adopted in his younger
and more fiery years.
The soldiers met with every opposition, and frequently with bloody
resistance from the MacGregors; and they had a four days' fruitless
search, toiling, with knapsacks and accoutrements, cocked hats,
pipe-clayed breeches, and long gaiters, up steep mountains, down
ravines, where they floundered, and sunk knee-deep among wet heather,
fern, and rushes; stumbling over precipices, and always misled by the
guides, who took the bribes of the officers, and then vanished into
the mist or a thicket, leaving them to shift for themselves, till the
evening of the fourth day found Colonel Grahame and his detachment,
starving, weary, and worn, occupying a deserted house on the verge of
the Lowlands, near the hills of Buchanan.
The rain was falling in torrents, and no sentinels were posted
without; so there Rob came upon them in the night, and, by throwing
in combustibles, set the house on fire about their ears.
This immediately dislodged the enemy. As they rushed forth in
disorder and dismay, many were severely injured by bruises and by the
explosion of the ammunition in their pouches. Many lost their
weapons, and "one man was killed by the accidental discharge of a
musket. The military, thus thrown into confusion, broken down by
fatigue, and almost famished by want of provisions, withdrew from the
country of the MacGregors, happy that they had escaped so well."
This was--as we have stated--the _last_ encounter of Rob Roy with the
forces of the government.