THE MILITARY RAID on Inversnaid had been in October. There had been no sign of Rob Roy since then in his own district. It was rumoured that he was much dejected by the failure of all that he had worked for, even that he had left Scotland for Ireland. Killearn was sufficiently encouraged by events, or the lack of them, to take a leading part once more in the important business of collecting his master’s rents the following month, at the November term. After a busy day on that Martinmas evening of 1716, Killearn was settled at the inn at Chapellaroch, some four miles south of the pass of Aberfoyle on the edge of the Flanders Moss. He only concerned himself with the collection of actual cash, leaving the uplifting of cattle and grain to his subordinates. Now, his guards outside, in the company of a number of the more substantial tenants of the district, he sat at table, dispensing Montrose’s hospitality in the form of a good dinner. It was a cosy and comfortable scene, in contrast to the blustering November night beyond.
Suddenly there was the noise of a commotion outside. Killearn was a cautious man in business matters. Whatever the bother was out there, his guards would deal with it – but nevertheless it behoved him to look well after the duke’s money which he had so successfully collected. This amounted to more than £3,000 Scots, a very large sum for those days. Hastily Killearn ran with the money bags to the step-ladder which led up to the loft of the single-storey building, and threw the cash up there, out of sight, as a precaution. He was making for the door of the inn to discover what the to-do was about, when it was burst open and the feared figure of Rob Roy MacGregor, in dripping tartans, stood framed in the doorway, backed by a solid phalanx of armed Gregorach. There was no sign of the factor’s guard.
Absolute silence prevailed in the inn parlour for moments on end as the two men confronted each other. They had not actually met for many years, although neither had for long been out of the other’s mind. The farmers sat, appalled. Rob spoke first, quietly, courteously at his most formal, not even glancing at Killearn now. He gave the unhappy tenantry good evening, asked their pardon for interrupting their repast, and urged them to continue with it. Afterwards he would have just a quiet word or two with His Grace’s factor, with whom he had some business. The Gregorach slipped behind him to take up strategic positions all round the room, as he spoke.
Never did men feel less like completing their meal. But Rob insisted, declaring that the duke would be desolate if his guests did not do justice to his hospitality. The silent MacGregors stood watching. Hastily the tenants gulped some of the food down, eyes flickering from the table to each other, but never to Rob or his men, or even to Killearn, who sat apart, biting his lips. Quickly they made pretence of eating as much as they could, then got up from the table, all making for the door. They had receipts for their rents in their pockets, and were more than anxious to get away before they might be further involved. One by one Rob bade them a civil good night.
When only the Gregorach and Killearn remained, Rob signed to his men to sit down and finish the remains of the meal, while he himself turned to the factor, in calm and businesslike fashion. He reached over and took the ledgers lying beside Killearn, glancing over the figures. ‘First of all,’ he said, ‘for my business with the Duke. How have the rents been coming in?’
Graham of Killearn tried desperately to bluff it out, claiming that as yet no rents had actually been collected. But Rob cut him short, pointing out that Montrose was not the man to pay for dinner for his tenants before he had received their rents. He thereupon ordered his men to search the house, and very quickly the money was discovered hidden in the loft. Having added up the columns in the ledgers, and checked it with the cash in the bags and found it correct, Rob handed the money over to one of his henchmen, and wrote out a careful receipt for the full amount. This, he told Killearn, would be something on account for the duke’s total indebtedness to himself, including a modest assessment of the cost of burning two of his houses and doing much damage to his stock and properties. On the credit side, of course, he would include various of his own upliftings of Montrose’s cattle, gear and so on. All must be done in order. By his calculation however, this still left the Duke owing him a tidy sum – at least another £3,000 – but this receipt would serve for the present payment on account. When the rest was duly paid to him, then no doubt the duke and himself could resume normal gentlemanly relations as between neighbours. He passed over the receipt to the factor.
Killearn did not know whether to bluster or sit quiet. His hopes must have risen that this might be all that Rob was demanding – that he was only interested in money and plunder. But his hopes were dashed. Rob, raising his eyes to consider the other directly now, said that he had private business to transact with Mr Graham of Killearn. It was not suitable nor convenient to discuss this here, however. He must ask Killearn to accompany him forthwith. He was sorry – they might have some little distance to travel. Protest as he would, the alarmed factor was bundled outside into the night, and in the midst of a tight group of grim-faced Highlanders, forced along the road from Chapellaroch, northwards. No attempt was made to rescue him, even to watch him go by, on the part of his guard or anyone else.
The first night’s experiences must have been terrifying enough for Killearn. The route from Chapellaroch into the heart of the MacGregor country was rough and dangerous enough at any time particularly for one not used to travelling through the mountains; but for a soft-living middle-aged man, in the dark of a wild winter’s night, it must have been desperate indeed. By the shortest route, to Portanellan, the Harbour of the Island, on the north shore of Loch Katrine, by Aberfoyle, over the hills by what is now called the Duke’s Road to Loch Achray in the Trossachs, and then north-west through the forest and along the steep boulder-strewn north shore of Katrine itself, is well over 20 harsh and difficult miles. How long it took the Gregorach to get Killearn over these miles we do not know. Almost certainly he could not cover them in one night or even day. All we know is that, having reached Portanellan, where Gregor Black Knee was now living with his family whilst he rebuilt the burned-out Glengyle House, the prisoner was then ferried out to the small island called Eilean Dhu in the loch, where amidst the tall frowning mountains he was held under guard in a primitive stone-and-turf hut for days whilst his fate was considered.
We do not know the details of what happened during the next few days, for no-one has left a written record of them, as is not to be wondered at. We do know, however, that Graham of Killearn plumbed the depths of fear and despair, and exhaustion also, so that he did exactly as he was told, and even wrote a letter dictated by Rob, to the Duke of Montrose, thus:
May it please Your Grace –
I am obliged to give Your Grace the trouble of this, by Robert Roy’s commands, being so unfortunate at present to be his prisoner. I refer the way and manner I was apprehended to the bearer, and shall only in short acquaint Your Grace with the demands, which are, that Your Grace shall discharge him of all soumes he owes your Grace, and shall give him the soume of 3,400 merks for his loss and damages sustained by him, both at Craigroston and at his house, Auchinchisallen; and that Your Grace shall give your word not to trouble or prosecute him afterwards; till which time he carries me, all the money I received this day, my books and bonds for entress, not yet paid, along with him, with assurances of hard usage if any party are sent after him. The soume I received this day, confirm to the nearest computation I can make before several of the gentlemen, is £3,227-2-8 Scots, of which I gave them notes. I shall wait Your Grace’s return, and ever am,
Your Grace’s most obedient, faithful, humble
JOHN GRAHAME.
From such sources as we can glean information, we can only say for certain that the man’s fate remained undecided for some time. For once, Rob Roy MacGregor was uncertain of himself. For years he had waited for this day. He had sworn to make Killearn pay with his life for what he had done to Mary MacGregor. Rob must have brooded endlessly on how he would exact his revenge. But when it came to the bit, it was not so easy. It was one thing to plan the daring coup at Chapellaroch, and the kidnapping, at last, of the hated enemy; altogether another to wreak the desired vengeance on a helpless prisoner. Undoubtedly Rob would have fought the matter out in a duel had Killearn been a swordsman or a pistol shot. But he was neither – merely a somewhat flabby, middle-aged man in extreme discomfort and misery. Whatever else he was, Rob Roy had always been of a romantic and heroic temperament. Faced with this distressing unheroic captive, he was nonplussed indeed as to what to do.
Probably in his dilemma Rob turned to Mary – almost inevitably so, for she was staying at the time with Gregor and his wife at Portanellan, only a mile away. Scott has painted her as a hard and violent woman, soured by her sufferings. I feel myself that, on the contrary, she most likely was pressing Rob towards mercy to the man who had injured her, convincing her fiery and dramatic husband that charity and compassion was the better course, and that harsh vengeance now could by no means wipe the slate clean of what had been done that other November night, four years earlier. There is good reason to believe that Rob’s relations with his wife which had been somewhat difficult and strained ever since that terrible event, hereafter took a sudden turn for the better, and they seem to have lived together happily from then on. If this is so, it surely must have been largely because his action towards Graham of Killearn pleased and comforted her.
At any rate, the bare facts of the matter are there before us. Rob Roy, after long swearing dire vengeance on his enemy, captured him on Monday, November 19th, 1716, held him prisoner in various places, but mainly on the island in Loch Katrine until the following Sunday, and then released him, unharmed, and with his ledgers, papers and so on – but not the Duke’s money – a free man again. What transpired between the two men during those five days we do not know – but probably to be dismissed contemptuously at the end of them, unhurt, was in fact the greatest blow to Killearn’s pride and self-esteem that could have been devised.
It may all seem something of an anti-climax to the reader – and no doubt it did to Rob himself, at the time. Nevertheless, we now can see that any other action would have been a great deal less to the credit of this remarkable man.