God's Highlander (39 page)

‘I've just this minute made this. Have you come down to settle your wedding arrangements with Wyatt? The whole village is looking forward to the great day….' The old animosity between the two women had long since disappeared.

Mairi shook her head. ‘There can be no wedding. Not just yet.'

‘What you mean is until my father brings the clearances to an end?' Evangeline spoke with great bitterness. ‘I wish I could tell you there would be no more, but he refuses to discuss it with me. I've tried ranting, reason and weeping. I've begged him to come here and see for himself what his clearances are doing, in the hope it might change his ways. He won't listen to me, or to anyone else. Clearing the Kilmalie lands has become an obsession with him.'

‘Then, there's little hope of our croft being left alone?' Mairi asked the question in a flat resigned voice that Wyatt found distressing.

‘If I could give you some hope….' Evangeline left the sentence unfinished.

‘The soldiers are killing livestock, too, wherever they find them, so the cottars will have no excuse for returning to the mountains. I've said I'll take the cattle to the shielings; they should be safe there.'

‘You'll not go to the shielings – even if you take all your brothers along to guard you. Not after what happened to Tibbie.' Wyatt was aghast at the thought of Mairi taking cattle to the lonely Highland
glens. There would have been safety in the numbers to be found at the shielings in previous seasons. This year there were few tenants left, and Irish soldiers were roaming the hills.

‘The soldiers who attacked Tibbie were deserters … renegades. You said so yourself, and
they'll
attack no one again.'

‘There are others. The shielings are no place for a young girl.'

‘Wyatt's right—' Whatever else Evangeline was going to say was lost as those in the kitchen heard a commotion outside and a young voice calling for ‘the minister'.

Wyatt had almost reached the door when it crashed open. Young Ewan Munro stumbled on the doorstep and fell headlong inside the kitchen.

The dishevelled boy scrambled to his feet and clutched at Wyatt's coat. ‘Minister, Mr Burns says to tell you to come … come
quickly
! The soldiers are on their way to our place.'

Ewan Munro was gasping for breath. He had been running as fast as his legs would carry him, but there was more to be said.

‘Pa's sick again, but he's got his knife.' Ewan's voice broke. ‘He … he says he'll die before the factor puts us out again.'

T
HE FISHERMEN AT the north-west end of Loch Eil lived on the opposite bank of the loch from Kilmalie lands. They were not affected by John Garrett's clearance plans. All the same, their sympathies lay with the dispossessed Highlanders. When Alasdair Burns asked them to sell some of their catch to help feed the many homeless families occupying the Eskaig school and churchyard, they offered him as much of their catch as he could carry, and would not accept payment. Salmon was food for servants and fisherfolk. There was no money to be made from such fish, and they had netted more than they would use.

The fishermen provided Alasdair Burns with an old piece of fishing-net in which to carry the salmon, but while they were tying it together one of the fishermen suddenly said: ‘You'd better be taking an extra fish, Teacher. It looks as though the Army is on its way to burn out another poor soul.'

Alasdair Burns looked to where the fisherman was pointing and saw a single file of scarlet-uniformed men making their way down a mountain slope towards the comparatively flat ground at the head of Loch Eil. They had come from Fort William through the glens that cut deep into the mountains, north of Eskaig.

At first, Alasdair Burns thought the soldiers might be making for the road, in order to return to Fort William through Eskaig. However, before they reached level ground the soldiers changed direction. They were still descending, but were now heading
away
from Eskaig and Loch Ell. They were still about their despicable business – and the only croft in the direction they were taking belonged to Lachlan Munro.

‘Damn them for the villains they are. They're on their way to dispossess a sick man. I'll be back for the fish later. I'm going to see if I can stop them.'

Alasdair Burns set off at speed, hopping in an ungainly manner on his one good leg and the wooden stump. Behind him there was a brief flurry of conversation between the half-dozen or so fishermen. Hastily covering the fish to prevent wheeling gulls from stealing them, they hurried after Alasdair Burns.

The home of Lachlan Munro was no more than a mile away. Alasdair Burns reached it while the soldiers were still making their way from the mountains. His first action was to send Ewan Munro to Eskaig to inform Wyatt of what was about to happen.

Next Alasdair Burns urged Elsa Munro to remove as many of her belongings as possible from the house and hide them in the bushes. The evicted tenants who had found their way to the schoolhouse in Eskaig had reported that the soldiers were no longer giving the Highlanders time to remove their possessions. An armful of clothes and hastily snatched-up pots and pans were all most had been able to bring out before lighted torches were thrown inside the cot and greedy flames swallowed up everything a Highland woman held dear.

Lachlan Munro was helped outside from his sick bed, protesting he would not be dispossessed by a bunch of ‘Irish thugs'.

The ex-soldier was a very sick man. Laid low so often with the fever he had contracted in Africa, Lachlan Munro had fallen victim to a wasting lung disease. Never a large man, he was now little more than skin and bone, and acutely aware of his lack of strength.

‘Just come and sit over here, and keep out of trouble.' Alasdair Burns was a bluff direct man, but he spoke as soothingly as he knew how to Lachlan Munro. ‘We can always find a new home for you, but these pretty little girls of yours have only one father.'

The Kilmalie factor was not with the men coming to evict the Munro family. The clearance order was in the hands of a constable from Fort William, and he had an escort of twenty soldiers from the Irish infantry regiment.

While the party was still on high ground they could see the activity about the Munro cot, and the constable correctly guessed the reason. Serving clearance orders on hapless Highlanders was not to the law officer's liking. He suggested the soldiers rest as soon as they reached level ground. It would give the Munro family extra time to clear their belongings.

It also meant that Wyatt, Evangeline and Mairi, accompanied by a
number of dispossessed cottars from the school, had time to reach the scene.

They arrived soon after the constable had served the clearance order on Lachlan Munro, but before the lighted torches held by two of the soldiers had been applied to the cot.

Alasdair Burns was haranguing the constable and his escort with some success, and the sergeant in charge of the party had not yet given the order to fire the building.

With the arrival of a hostile and vociferous crowd of Highlanders, the uncertainty of the Fort William constable grew. The Irish sergeant had more experience in dealing with hostile crowds and he ordered his soldiers to fix bayonets and face towards the newcomers.

Alasdair Burns was not pleased to see Evangeline among the new arrivals, but he did not allow it to halt his rhetoric. He pointed to her companions as an example of the numbers of ordinary people made homeless by the Army and the authorities they were supporting.

The teacher's argument began to excite the homeless cottars, and the constable from Fort William became increasingly concerned. In sharp contrast, the Irish sergeant viewed the Highlanders with a calm disdain. He would be the man to make a decision, and it was to him that Wyatt directed his appeal.

‘You've carried out your duty, Sergeant. The constable has served the clearance notice. Why don't you take your men on now, before there's trouble?'

The sergeant was aware from Wyatt's mode of dress that he was a minister, but the soldier had little time for representatives of any church.

‘I don't need a preacher telling me how to carry out my duties. If there's going to be trouble, it will come as a result of the one-legged man. He's making your people excited with his talk. When he fastens his lip I'll put a torch to the cot and we'll be on our way – unless you have something else planned?'

‘My concern is for Lachlan Munro and his young family. He's a sick man, Sergeant. He was an army man, too, with the Seventy-Second Regiment until he was struck down with fever in Natal – a sergeant, like yourself.'

The Irish sergeant cast a quick glance to where Lachlan Munro sat propped against a low wall, head back, talking softly to his son.

‘He has my sympathy. A brave man deserves something better than
a lingering death. But he'll be the first to understand I'm merely doing my duty. No more, and no less.'

‘You've
done
your duty. The constable has served the notice. Won't you just leave now,
without
firing the cot?'

‘My colonel's orders are to burn every cot as soon as a clearance order is served. There's to be no reoccupation. These people are lucky to have had so long to clear their belongings. Had the colonel been here today, everything would have gone up in flames within a minute of the order being served. As it is, I think it's high time I took my men back to barracks.'

Without any further warning, the sergeant signalled to the two men who held the flaming torches. Acknowledging his command, the two men turned towards the cot. One man threw his torch high on the thatched roof. For a moment it seemed the burning brand would roll back down to earth, but it caught in a piece of protruding twig, and flames began to eat into the thick thatch.

The second man went to the open door and threw his torch into a corner where the three youngest Munro girls had shared a dry-heather bed. There was a momentary lull, and then the heather ignited with a great roar. Seconds later flames were licking up through the roof.

As the crowd watched in momentary awe, a distraction came from an unexpected direction. The soldiers were keeping the crowd well clear of the house, but Lachlan's position was to the side and slightly behind their line. He suddenly emerged out of the smoke billowing downwards from the roof. He was weaving an erratic course, and it was not immediately certain where he was heading.

The Irish sergeant did not wait to find out. Pushing two of his soldiers aside, he darted between them and held out an arm to bar Lachlan Munro's path.

‘Come on, old soldier. There's nothing for you in there now. Take your family off somewhere and make a new life—'

He never finished the sentence. Lachlan Munro closed with the Irish sergeant, there was a flash of bright steel and the sergeant reeled back, one hand clutching his stomach. It was a cut, not a stab wound, but there was sufficient blood in evidence to make it appear far worse than it really was.

Pandemonium broke out beside the burning cot. One of the Irish soldiers leaped at Lachlan Munro. Even as Wyatt shouted at him, he
lunged forward with his musket and the long spike-like bayonet passed right through the sick man's frail body.

Lachlan Munro sat down heavily, still spitted on the soldier's bayonet. The soldier pulled it free with some difficulty, and as Lachlan Munro slipped sideways to the ground the soldier raised his musket to bayonet him again. Wyatt ran to his aid, but Ewan Munro was quicker. Darting beneath the threatening bayonets of the other soldiers, Lachlan Munro's young son cannoned into his father's attacker and knocked him off balance.

Another soldier went to the aid of his colleague, but suddenly the line of soldiers broke before the combined weight of the dispossessed Kilmalie cottars and the Loch Eil fishermen. As Wyatt knocked down the soldier who was about to strike Ewan Munro, a shot was fired from near at hand. Wyatt heard the booming voice of the Irish sergeant calling for his men to rally around him – and then he heard nothing more as a rifle-butt slammed against the side of his head. Wyatt slumped to the ground where he was trampled by the feet of soldiers and Highlanders.

A number of those in the crowd saw Wyatt knocked to the ground, and two of them fought their way towards him. Mairi reached him first and she crouched above him, doing her best to protect him from the feet of the brawling, shouting men all about them.

Alasdair Burns was less successful. Throwing soldiers clear as he met with them, he had almost gained his fallen friend when he was confronted by a soldier as large as himself. The soldier's bayonet-thrust was avoided easily enough, but the backward swing of the musket knocked the schoolteacher off balance.

Self-preservation was now uppermost in Alasdair Burns's mind, and he grasped the soldier about the waist, pulling him to the ground. As the two men rolled over, wrestling, the sergeant shouted for his men to ‘arrest the one-legged troublemaker'.

His order was obeyed by a soldier who set about subduing Alasdair Burns with the butt of his musket.

Until this happened Evangeline had remained a horrified onlooker, but as the soldier continued to rain blows upon Alasdair Burns she leaped to his rescue.

Evangeline prevented further injury to Alasdair Burns, but the sergeant who was skilfully withdrawing his party from the affray shouted at his men to bring her and Alasdair Burns with them.

W
HEN WYATT REGAINED consciousness he was unable immediately to distinguish between the roaring inside his own head and the sound of the wind-fed flames noisily consuming the thatch of the cot. As he sat up he winced with pain, and Mairi's arm went about him.

‘Thank the Lord you're all right. You've been unconscious for so long I thought they might have broken your head.'

Wyatt only just stopped himself in time from shaking his head – and then he remembered how he had acquired the pain. He looked about him. He could see many people in the swirling smoke, but none wore a uniform.

‘Where are the soldiers … and Lachlan?' Wyatt struggled to rise, although his head felt as heavy as a mortar-shell.

‘The soldier's bayonet must have pierced his lung. He's a dying man. They've laid him over there, away from the smoke.' Mairi pointed to where a group of Highlanders were gathered on the lee side of the cot.

Wyatt made his way shakily towards them, and they stood back respectfully to allow him through. Lachlan lay on the bare trampled earth. Elsa Munro was on her knees beside him, weeping silently as she held one of her husband's hands in her own, patting it abstractedly. The Munro girls stood in a pathetic line nearby, also crying. Ewan Munro was the only tear-free face in the family, although there was enough anguish in his expression for all of them.

Wyatt dropped to one knee beside the ex-soldier, and the man who had endured so much pain managed the semblance of a weak smile. Lachlan Munro also tried to speak, but Wyatt needed to put his ear within an inch of the other man's lips in order to hear what he had to say.

‘This is a better way to go … Captain. A man's way.'

‘It's a
good
man's way, Lachlan. A courageous man. You've never
been short of courage. The Lord has a special place in heaven for brave men.'

Lachlan Munro wanted to speak again, and Wyatt's ear brushed the dying man's lips.

‘It's been a good life, Captain….'

Without moving his head, Wyatt's eyes took in the ex-soldier's ragged children and the house that had been derelict before Lachlan Munro was given the tenancy for his last, pain-filled year. Yet he could speak of ‘a good life.'

‘Ewan … I must speak to Ewan.' The blood was bubbling in Lachlan Munro's throat now, and Wyatt signalled urgently for Ewan to come and take his place.

The boy kneeled at his father's side for perhaps two minutes, his ear close enough to catch the dying man's last words. Then a great shudder ran through Lachlan Munro's body and all pain left him.

Elsa Munro let out a great wail of anguish, and Mairi went to her. Ewan Munro stood up, still looking down at his father, and for a moment it seemed he, too, must break down and cry. Wyatt held out his arms to the boy, and for a while Ewan clung to him. Then he pushed himself away and squared his shoulders with a conscious effort.

‘I'll go to the girls now. They'll need comforting. As Pa told me, I'm the man in the Munro family now.'

Wyatt watched as the young boy went to his five young sisters and encompassed them in his arms. Then he realised one of the cottars was speaking to him, and he turned to face the man.

‘What will you be doing about the teacher and the Garrett girl? She's not a bad lass, for all she has the factor's blood in her veins.'

Wyatt looked about him, and for the first time realised Alasdair Burns and Evangeline were nowhere to be seen.

Elsa Munro had gone to her children, and Mairi guessed for whom Wyatt was looking.

‘They've been taken by the Army. Alasdair tried to help you when you were knocked down. Then Evangeline became involved, and the soldiers took them both away.'

‘Took them where?' Suddenly Wyatt's head was hurting more than ever.

‘I don't know. Fort William, I suppose.'

‘I must go and arrange their release.' Wyatt felt confused. ‘How long ago did all this happen?'

‘Half an hour, perhaps longer. So much has happened.' Mairi looked at his face, and she was concerned by what she saw. Wyatt was like a man in a dream. ‘You'd better sit down. You look
awful
.'

‘Was anyone else arrested?'

‘No, but at least four were hurt. One of the fishermen was shot through an ear. He bled a lot, but it's not serious.'

‘The others… ?' The two words cost Wyatt considerable effort. The world seemed to be see-sawing away from him.

‘Bruises in the main. But you're not all right, are you? You'd better sit down. Here … quickly!'

Mairi shouted the last word as Wyatt swayed and would have fallen had she not held on to him, helped by one of the Loch Eil fishermen who had been standing nearby.

‘Sit him down here.' With the fisherman supporting him, Mairi struggled to guide Wyatt to a rough-stone seat set against the garden wall. She was very concerned, believing the blows he had taken might have seriously harmed him. As she released her hold, a Highland woman came across to offer help. Without waiting for an answer she slapped Wyatt's face repeatedly.

Failing to achieve any response, the woman grasped Wyatt's wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was not clear whether or not she found it, but after about half a minute she dropped the hand carelessly, then lifted each of Wyatt's eyelids in turn.

‘He'll be all right, hen,' she said to Mairi. ‘The blow from the Irishman's gun must have bruised his brain, and it's swelled up in his head. When it's gone down again he'll be as right as rain.'

Mairi wished she felt as confident, but a few minutes later Wyatt recovered consciousness once more. He seemed a little vague, but declared nothing was wrong with him. As if to prove his point, he made arrangements for the Munro family to be brought to Eskaig, together with the body of Lachlan Munro.

Clouds were building up in the west. All the signs were that when the wind dropped the rain would come. He had to go to Fort William first, and then he needed to make Eneas Ross see sense. It was a task that had been made very much more difficult by the killing of Lachlan Munro.

By the time the small procession reached Eskaig it had formed itself into a funeral cortege. Wyatt learned that things had been happening here, too. The disposed tenants and cottars occupying school-house and churchyard were in a state of turmoil. Many of the temporary shelters had been broken up. In the schoolhouse there was now space, where only that morning men, women and children had jostled for elbow room. Even more puzzling to Wyatt was the small stream of Highlanders heading along the road that led to Corpach and Fort William. They carried with them the few meagre possessions they had brought from the mountains.

‘What's happening?' Wyatt confronted a family of man, wife and five young children, none of the children more than seven years of age. They had come to Eskaig from a lonely cot, deep in the mountains, one of the first families to be evicted in this latest series of clearances.

‘The factor's been here while you were away. He told us there'll never again be a place for us in the Highlands. He's arranged for two ships to be at Fort William to take us to Canada. The first is boarding now and leaves in a day or two. The other is due in a few weeks. There's a free passage and five pounds in cash for every family who accepts his offer. We're taking it.'

‘What will you and the others do in Canada? Think about it, man. You've seven mouths to feed. Five pounds will last you no time at all. What will you do when it's gone?'

‘Factor Garrett says there's free land for the asking in Canada.' The man shrugged. ‘What have we to lose, Minister Jamieson? You've worked hard to give us food and warmth here, but there are three times as many Highlanders still in the mountains. You can't support us all. And what will happen when we're drummed off Eskaig land? You're right, five pounds won't last long – but until it's gone we'll have hope. There's precious little of that here.'

‘Have you inspected the ships? How large are they? What condition are they in?' There was desperation in Wyatt's voice. ‘I've
seen
emigrant-ships. I wouldn't travel in one as far as the Islands, yet you're trusting them with your life and the lives of your family on a voyage that will take weeks –
months
even. Think about it. For the sake of your family,
think about it
.'

Wyatt's plea went unheeded, ‘I've done all the thinking that's necessary, Minister. There's nothing for us here any more. Look,
there
are your clansmen of the future.'

As though it had been arranged to mock the Highlanders, a huge flock of sheep was being driven from Corpach, forcing the departing refugees off the road, some to higher ground, others to the rock-strewn shore of the loch.

Another man, one of the family of the centenarian Wyatt had buried in the Eskaig churchyard, came to stand beside Wyatt as the sheep approached. ‘He's right, Minister. They're the new laird's clansmen. They'll serve him as well as we ever did. He'll drive them where he wants. They'll bleed for him, die for him – and he'll end up with money in his pocket earned by their suffering. There's no difference between us at all.'

 

Wyatt had hoped to bury Lachlan Munro that same day, but Elsa Munro was deeply distressed at such haste. She declared tearfully that Lachlan had been stripped of all pride and dignity in the latter years of his life. She wanted her courageous husband laid in his grave with all the rights due to him. She wanted him to ‘lie in', so that all those who had known him could come and pay their last respects to the former Highland soldier. She also wanted him buried in a wooden coffin, although she was less certain where the money would come from.

Wyatt said he would pay for the coffin, and when one of the Free Church elders offered his house for the ‘lying in' Wyatt agreed to put off the ceremony for a day or two. It made a lot of sense. Far more important at the moment were the problems of the living – Alasdair Burns and Evangeline Garrett in particular. He also wanted to inspect the emigrant-ship and distribute some of the money left to him by Lord Kilmalie to the emigrating Highlanders. He must also make yet another attempt to speak to John Garrett.

Mairi had been watching Wyatt as he spoke to Elsa Munro and the elder. His pale face and abstracted manner concerned her. When Wyatt went inside the schoolhouse prior to setting off to learn what had happened to the two schoolteachers, she followed him.

‘Are you certain you're well enough to go to Fort William? At least leave it until morning….'

‘Too much can happen overnight in a prison. I'll be all right.'

‘Then, I'll come with you.'

‘No!' It sounded too abrupt, too sharp, and Mairi showed her hurt. ‘I'm grateful to you, Mairi. Had you not been with me, I, too, might be in the Fort William tolbooth now.' Putting his hands on her shoulders, he said: ‘I want you to go home. Tell your father the Irish have tasted Scots blood and they'll be out for more.
He and his friends must do nothing to give them an excuse to attack Highlanders again
. Tell him I'm speaking now as a former army captain, not as a minister of the Church. We must do everything we can to cool things down.'

Wyatt gripped Mairi's shoulders more tightly. ‘Meanwhile, you stay close to your home, you understand? There's to be no thought of going to the shielings. If you're still living in the mountains when this trouble is over, there'll be no shortage of grazing. If not … well, the sheep will have eaten all the grass in the shielings anyway. Do you promise me you'll do nothing foolish?'

Mairi nodded her agreement.

There were people about them, and Wyatt was able to give her only the briefest of kisses. ‘Take care, Mairi. I want us to be married – and soon.'

‘You take care too, Wyatt. And don't trust the factor.'

 

Wyatt remembered Mairi's words as he neared the Garrett house on the Corpach and Fort William road. Nevertheless he turned into the long tree-lined drive and went to the house to speak to John Garrett.

The Kilmalie factor was not at home. Charlotte Garrett took him to the sitting-room and insisted he take tea with her before continuing his journey to Fort William.

Charlotte Garrett looked better than he had ever seen her, but Wyatt told her nothing of Evangeline's arrest; her sanity was far too precariously balanced. John Garrett was expected home that evening, and Wyatt left word he was on his way to Fort William on a most urgent matter. He suggested the factor should join him there without delay.

Charlotte Garrett was intrigued by Wyatt's secrecy, but when her questions were evaded she made no attempt to press him. She promised to pass on his message to her husband as soon as he returned home.