Kings Pinnacle

Alex Mackenzie was a Scottish lad born in 1754 in the Scottish lowlands on the border between Scotland and England. Alex, his father, and his two older brothers were members of the last band of Reivers (outlaws) that operated along the border. A few years before the start of the American Revolutionary War, Alex ran afoul of the British authorities; they were on his trail and wanted him dead. His only alternative was to leave Scotland for Ireland and then from there, sail to America. The colonies in America were supposed to be a place where people could get a new start in life and explore new opportunities. America was supposed to be a place where people could put down stakes and put old feuds behind them, or was it?

“Och, that tears it; it’s all gang agley” said Alex’s father. “Ye are going to hae to set aff from Scotland for a wee bit, Alex, laddie.”

“Where should I go?”

“Ireland,” said John. “Ye can find wark at the Plantation of Ulster and get back on yer feet there. Ye might hae t’ stay in Ireland quite a spell until this all blows oer.”

“How am I going to get there?”

“Weel,” Hugh chimed in, “the distance from Scotland to Ireland is less than fourteen miles at the closest point, we can probably swim o’er there, just like swimming across a loch,” said Hugh with a grin and a gleam in his eye.

“We,” said Alex. “Who invited you along?”

“Ye don’t think Robber and I would let ye go o’er the Sheuch alane, do ye, laddie?” replied Hugh.