Callum Dhu, with my little baggage, had awaited me with some anxiety; but I joined him at the pier in time to reach the steamer which was to take us to the Clyde.
When I told him of all that had passed, his dark eyes flashed, and his swarthy cheek glowed, and slapping his bare knee, he exclaimed:—
'Dioul! now or never is the time to make your fortune, like Donald Gair or Robin Oig. Marry the Englishman's daughter, and Glen Ora—hill, wood, and water—shall all be ours again!'
But the monotonous flap-flap-flapping of the steamer's screw was the only reply he heard, as she bore us away for ever.
We reached the noble Clyde in due time, and landed at Dumbarton, for there we ascertained the Duchess was to take on board our emigrants.
I have often thought of the truth of the poet's maxim, that there is a culminating point in the life of every man, and woman too—a turn of 'the tide,' which decides their destiny, and by which their future is irrevocably fixed; and, as this chapter will show, the whole current of my after-life has been changed by the simple circumstance of this emigrant ship being at Dumbarton instead of Glasgow. She was not quite ready for sea—thus three weeks slipped away, during which I lived at a hotel, frittering away the little funds I possessed, while my poor emigrants (who were daily receiving fresh accessions from the expatriated Rosses and Mac Donels) occupied certain old storehouses and sheds upon the quays.
One day Callum and I were sitting at a sequestered part of the river, surveying the stupendous rock of Dumbarton, which is cleft in two, and rises like a mighty mitre of basalt from the channel of the Clyde, strong and formidable in aspect, defended by cannon and by venerable ramparts, from which the beautiful vale of the Leven, the dark mountains of Arrochar, and the vast expanse of the azure river are visible. The shadow of many ages lay upon its hoary walls, for it is the Balclutha of Ossian and of the Romans—the Dun Britton, whence came 'the tall Galbraiths of the Red Tower,' so famed in Celtic story. Now its summits were wreathed in mist; the shades of evening were closing on it, and the red gleam of bayonets appeared upon its walls, as the sentinels of a Highland regiment trod to and fro upon the same ramparts from which the soldiers of the Cæsars, in nearly the same costume, had, eighteen hundred years ago, kept this key of the Western Highlands and of the navigation of the Clyde.
As I gazed at the bayonets glittering ever and anon above the old grey bastions, the words of Clavering came again and again to my memory, and the longing to become a soldier, with a horror of hopeless banishment as an emigrant, grew strong within me. My father had once belonged to this very regiment—the famous fighting —th Highlanders. My resolution was taken in a moment. I would see their colonel—I would speak with him—tell my wishes and depressing circumstances, and frankly ask his advice. Callum loudly applauded this idea!
'He'll make a captain of you,' said he, with a confidence that was certainly not based on a knowledge of the service. 'Who can say nay?' he continued, with kindling eyes; 'a Mac Innon of Glen Ora could never be less than a captain—Mona, Mon Dioul—no! and I shall become a soldier too, and, with five and twenty more of our lads, will follow you to the end of the world, and further!'
In ten minutes after this resolution was formed we were ascending the steep pathway of the castle rock, while Callum whistled lustily an interminable but most warlike pibroch. Entering by the gate which is at the foot of the fortress, and faces the south-east, we passed several strong ramparts, and ascended an abrupt flight of steps into the heart of the place, where the magazine stands, and the sword of Sir William Wallace is preserved. Here a few Highland soldiers who were on guard, and who sat smoking and lounging on a deal form in front of the guard-house, pointed out the quarters of their colonel, in search of whom I immediately repaired; but was informed by an orderly that he was in the mess-room, into which he at once ushered me without much ceremony.
The apartment was large and plain; the windows afforded a view of the mighty valley of the Clyde; the furniture consisted of thirty hard-seated Windsor chairs, a long mahogany table, and side tables strewed with newspapers and dog-eared army-lists. Over the mantelpiece hung an engraved portrait of Sir Colin Campbell, General of the Highland Division, and a row of enormous stags' antlers and skulls.
A handsome, but elderly man, with grizzled hair, becoming slightly bald, and having an obstinate moustache that despised bandoline and defied all trimming, and having a face browned by every climate under heaven, was seated on one chair, while his spurred heels rested on another. He was immersed in the pages of the 'U.S. Gazette.' He wore green tartan trews and a red shell-jacket, with a sash over his left shoulder; a plain Highland bonnet and a splendidly jewelled dirk lay beside him; and close by was a decanter of peculiar mess port, a glass of which he set down with a glance of surprise as Callum and I, after the preliminary single knock on the door, were ushered in by the mess-waiter.
This officer was Colonel Ronald Crawford, who distinguished himself so much in India, and of whom it was often said, that he was so brave and cool, that he would not have winked even if a cannon ball had shaved his whiskers. He bowed politely to me—looked inquisitively at Callum, who he no doubt supposed to be a recruit, and whose tattered mountain garb was somewhat remarkable. He stood dutifully, bonnet in hand, about a yard behind me, eying the colonel dubiously, as he might have eyed an ogre.
'I believe I have the honour to address Colonel Crawford of the —th Highlanders,' said I.
'The same at your service,' said the colonel, rising, planting his feet astride, and placing his back to the fire—a favourite professional attitude.
'Mr. Allan Mac Innon,' said I, introducing myself with timid anxiety.
The colonel bowed again, and said, blandly,—
'In what can I serve you, Mr. Mac Innon?'
My story was briefly told, and he listened with considerable interest, for he was too brave in heart to hear it without emotion.
'Your name is Mac Innon, and your father was, you mention, in the —th Highlanders. Did he serve once with the 1st Royal Scots?'
'Yes, in the war against the Pindarees, and fought at the battle of Nagpore and the storming of Gawelghur.'
'I knew him, my lad, I knew him well,' said the old Colonel, pressing both my hands in his; 'God bless me, but this is strange! And you are the son of old Allan Mac Innon of the Royals!—He saved my life at Nagpore—.'
'Then you are the officer, to save whom he made such a desperate effort at the head of thirty men of the Royals, and whom he found tied to the muzzle of a brass gun, which was loaded—'
'With round shot and grape, my boy! but he saved me, by cleaving with one blow of his sword the rascally Arab who was about to apply the match that would have blown me to shreds! This was just within the Durawazza gate, when poor Jack Bell of ours, with a company of the Royal Scots and a party of Sappers, stormed it. Bless my soul! and you are really the son of my old chum and comrade, Allan Mac Innon? Drink your wine, my lad, and tell me all this once again.'
In ten minutes we were quite old friends; another decanter of port was ordered up, Callum was consigned to the care of the mess-waiter, and then I made known my wishes to the colonel, who began alternately to smile and look a little perplexed.
'You wish a commission—we are now at war to be sure; but there are many difficulties. Have you any interest?'
'None—all who might have served me have died in the army.'
'You cannot purchase?'
'I have not quite twenty guineas in the world.'
'Bless my soul! Then there are the necessary studies—a curriculum in fact—an examination and cramming at Sandhurst. What languages do you know?'
'English, a little French, and Gaelic.'
The old colonel burst into a fit of laughter.
'Come—I like this! Did your father purchase?'
'No.'
'Then how did he join the Black Watch?'
'By bringing two hundred men to its ranks.'
'We are making the regiment up to two battalions—the full war establishment; if, among your emigrants you could procure as many volunteers as would entitle you to an ensigncy—'
'How many are required?'
'Five and twenty,'
'I can bring you that very number!' said I, rising and seizing my bonnet.
'Nay, not so fast,' said the colonel, laughing, and filling my glass again. 'Will they all pass the doctor's examination?'
'They are the flower of the district—strong, hardy, and athletic men,' I replied, as the wine mounted into my head; 'men inured to a life of poverty and toil; men who with no other covering than their kilt and plaid have remained upon the frozen heather and in the open air for weeks together, to stalk the wild red deer; men who with a single bullet will kill a hawk or eagle in full flight, or bring the most furious stag to bay—ay and slay it too, by one stroke of a skene-dhu or a clubbed rifle!'
'Bravo! this is the stuff to make soldiers of! Instead of five and twenty, I wish you had five hundred such, cho laidir Re Cuchullin—as strong as the Fingalian. You see, my lad, I don't forget my Gaelic.'
'The day will never come again, when five hundred such men will march from the Braes of Loch Ora, colonel.'
He invited me to dine that day at the mess, where the splendor of the plate, the richness of the Highland uniforms, the various wines, the number and delicacy of the dishes, with the kindness and frank good-fellowship of the officers, charmed and dazzled me; and as they were all passionately fond of sporting, shooting, and deer-stalking, topics in which I was quite at home, I conversed about them with an ease, energy, and confidence which—when I forgot the pink champagne—certainly surprised myself.
Anxious to have his battalion made up without delay, the colonel had already written to the Horse Guards about me: bounties were high, and men were scarce; my twenty-five volunteers were ready and willing, and an answer was expected from the General Commanding-in-Chief within eight days.
The night was far advanced before I left the castle.
Full of new thoughts, new hopes, and new life, my whole horizon seemed to have become suddenly cloudless, bright, and sunny; Laura's beautiful eyes were before me, and amid the mellowing influences of the moonlight and the mess champagne, nothing seemed impossible for me to achieve, and I felt happy, confident, and glorious.
The moon shone with silver splendor on the broad expanse of the Clyde, and far across its bosom threw the shadow of Dumbarton's double peak. To me there seemed but one dark spot in the landscape—the large emigrant ship, which lay at anchor in the stream—the Duchess, which was to convey our poor and expatriated people to their new homes in the Land of the West.
I will hasten over their departure to America; the sailing of the vessel was hurried next day, and they were thrust on board pell-mell, like sheep. I will not attempt to describe the parting between them and the twenty-five who volunteered to share my fortune in the old world, rather than become the pioneers of civilization and the patriarchs of another race in the western hemisphere. Callum and Minnie parted for the time, with the usual promises of constancy, of remembrance, and of writing until they met again, for she would not leave her relations to become the wife of a soldier—and so we all separated.
Alisdair Mac Gouran and the older of the expatriated, were full of many misgivings; but aged people always are so; and the shrill cry of sorrow and farewell which ascended from that crowded deck as the fore-yard was filled, and when the anchor was apeak, went to my heart like a dagger. The elders of the tribe, whose tastes, habits, and thoughts were bounded by the narrow horizon of their native glen, were naturally filled with consternation by the idea of the new and far-off land of their labours and eternal rest; but I now felt a fresh hope—a new joy springing up within me, as the love of adventure and the consciousness of freedom, so dear to a young and buoyant heart, roused my energies and my enthusiasm, and I now longed for the hour when I should belt on my sword, with the world for my home, and the colours for my household gods.
I will refrain from detailing the cruelties and barbarities to which, in their outward voyage, the last of the clan were subjected; how they were decimated by starvation and fever; how the old perished daily and the young lost health and heart together; and how the aged Mhari and the young and blooming Minnie died off the foggy Bank of Newfoundland. On board the Duchess a small allowance of meal with a liberal quantity of brackish water was their daily food; but than they were amply furnished with anti-slavery tracts, Addresses to the Women of America, and shilling copies of Uncle Tom's Cabin.
Whether or not it is owing to the apathy or incapacity of the man—the solitary man—the supposed legal and diplomatic Briareus, to whom the government of Scotland is intrusted, or to the utter ignorance of that country betrayed by British legislators, that the sufferings of our Celts arise, I pretend not to say. The fault lies somewhere.
Ignorance of Scottish affairs and of Scottish wants and wishes, together with the criminal apathy of Scottish representatives and the overwhelming influence of centralization, are doubtless the cause of much of the misery and ruin of the Highland population; and the day may come when Britain will find the breasts and bayonets of her foreign legionaries, or the effeminate rabble of her manufacturing cities, but a poor substitute for the stubborn clansmen of Sutherland, Ross-shire, and Breadalbane.