AFTER the rebel army left the town, Glasgow had returned to more or less normal. Griselle Halyburton married Douglas Ramsay. John Glassford’s tobacco fleet had returned from Virginia. Survivors of the Glasgow militia had been honourably discharged and come home. They were no longer needed because now the Duke of Cumberland and most of his army had arrived at Edinburgh to take over command from Hawley. Since Falkirk, the royal army had been joined by the artillery train from Newcastle with a complement of regular gunners. Cavalry reinforcements had also arrived and others were on their way.
Lord George Murray and the chiefs of the clan regiments stationed at Falkirk presented the Prince with an address. It said that the Highland army, owing to desertion, was in no fit state to meet Cumberland’s forces. They advised that an immediate retreat to the Highlands should be made and winter spent reducing the government’s forts. An army of ten thousand men could be assembled in the spring. It continued:
‘The greatest difficulty that occurs to us is the saving of the artillery, particularly the heavy cannon; but better some of these were thrown into the River Forth as that your Royal Highness, besides the danger to your own person, should risk the flower of your army …’
Charles argued indignantly in reply.
‘A retreat, gentlemen, will result in nothing but ruin and destruction and will raise the morale of the enemy and proportionately lower that of the Highland army. It will destroy all hopes of further foreign aid, and in particular any prospects of a large-scale French landing. Not only will it result in the loss of the heavy cannon, but by retreating, the Highland army will throw away all the advantages it has previously gained. In any case, the enemy is no more formidable than it has been earlier and is still smarting from its defeat.’
But Lord George and the chiefs were concerned at what was happening at the siege of Stirling. With nothing to do, the Highlanders were sauntering about all the villages in the neighbourhood of their quarters and an ever-growing number of them were absent from their colours.
Finding that his arguments failed to win the chiefs over, the Prince recorded them in a letter which contained no recrimination but disclaimed all personal responsibility for the retreat.
It was agreed that the army would rendezvous near St Ninian’s at nine o’clock in the morning of February 2nd, where a rearguard would be chosen to be commanded by Lord George Murray. But, according to Murray, someone altered his order and before daybreak the Highlanders began streaming westwards instead towards the Fords of Frew. It was said:
‘Never was there a retreat resembling so much a flight, for there was nowhere one thousand men together, and in great confusion, leaving carts and cannon upon the road behind them.’
It was with astonishment and anger that Lord George arrived at the rendezvous to find that not one man was in sight. He had no alternative then but to take the road to Frew.
The Highland army crossed the Forth with Annabella and some wives of the chiefs and other women splashing behind them on horseback. Then the army headed towards Inverness. Horse and the low-country regiments, under Murray, marched along the more dangerous coast road, a route he offered to take after others had refused it. The Prince with the clans took the Highland road. On the day the divisions went their separate ways, Cumberland and the royal army, following in pursuit, left Stirling and on the 6th of February they reached Perth.
News kept seeping back to Glasgow by means of official riders and also with ordinary travellers arriving by horse or coach, or with packmen coming in from the country to sell their wares. Gypsies and sorners too added to the town’s store of news and gossip which was conscientiously passed on in lusty voice by McMurdo the bellman. But despite the exciting news of what was going on outside of Glasgow there were other important things happening of more immediate interest and concern. Business was getting back to normal. Shops, warerooms and counting-houses were open again and supplies were pouring in.
McMurdo shouting around the streets the announcement that new table delicacies or toilet preparations had arrived by ship caused just as much stir and commotion as the latest move of the Highland army or of Cumberland’s troops.
‘The best eating oil, cucumbers, capers,
Oh what a ploy,
Olives, anchovies, Indian Soy,
Barberries, vermicelli, everything to please,
Fine salt loaves, split and whole peas.
London pomat, true French hungary water,
Things tae beautify yersel’ and yer daughter,
There’s plain and there’s scented hair powder,
There’s things needed—even by fops,
There’s steel wig-machines, powder-machines,
There’s razors, hones and razor strops.’
There were other business-type announcements too.
‘If any young lads who can read and write,
Who are strong and healthy, virtuous and bright,
Want a life of adventure in a far off land,
Listen tae me, for the news is at hand,
The Glasgow Lass and the Mary Heron are snows,
Sturdy ships as everyone knows;
Kilfuddy and Daidles are their captains true,
And from Port Glasgow with cargo and crew,
To James River, Virginia they’re waiting to go,
But canna leave yet and how is that so,
Because they need lads and they’re waiting with patience,
For indentured servants to work the plantations.
So if a plantation job to you would be great,
And if you’re a lad who can write and read,
Skelp away doon with a’ your speed,
To Maister Ramsay, the merchant, Briggait.’
The facts of this announcement were not quite true because the ships had not yet unloaded their cargo of tobacco, far less taken on the goods that had to be shipped back across to Virginia. There were some repairs to be made to the vessels because they had run into bad weather on the journey and the storms had played havoc with both sail and timber. But it was the return cargo, or rather the lack of it, that threatened to cause the longest delay. The enormous amount of goods and money that had been supplied to the Highland army had crippled the tradespeople and it would be some time before they could recover sufficiently to supply what was required for the Virginia trade. But it was true that indentured servants were urgently needed and it was thought wise to start right away to try and get boys, and girls too if possible, to sign up.
Slave labour was employed on the plantations not because it was cheap, because it was not, but for the most part it was the only labour force available. But unless the Negroes were plantation born and trained, they were clumsy and slow.
As soon as it began to rain everyone had to rush to the tobacco beds where the delicate tobacco seedlings had already been planted. Careless handling could destroy the seed, yet the workers had, at feverish speed, to lift the small tobacco plants and transplant them to the raised tobacco beds or hills nearby. The plants could only be moved when it rained and sudden spells of frenzied activity were typical of a plantation and the reason why so many workers were needed.
The only Glasgow tobacco lord who owned a plantation and was therefore a planter as well as merchant and sea adventurer was Andrew Buchanan. He employed slave labour. Others dealt in the slave trade, buying and selling slaves, but Ramsay dealt only in indentured servants. This was not because of any principles involved. He never gave a thought to slave trading and only dealt in white servants from Glasgow because for him it was better business to do so. His ships took them out to masters in Virginia and he also employed them in his company stores and offices.
He and his colleagues had managed to get a hold on the tobacco supplies of Virginia so that they were the only people who could supply it in bulk to the French. The main reason for this lay in the chains of small stores they had set up in the interior. All the Glasgow tobacco lords had started trading stores to serve the many small plantation owners.
The idea was that the store offered credit to its customers and paid for the planters’ tobacco crops in money, goods or a mixture of both. But owing to a shortage of coin in the country, the Virginians rarely had any money and this meant that the planters could not do their shopping anywhere except at the tobacco company’s store where they were allowed to buy goods up to the limit of their tobacco produce.
Every store displayed its goods under two different price tags, ‘cash price’ and a higher ‘goods price’. Those who paid in money or tobacco were allowed goods at the cash price. Those who wanted credit, however, or were paying off old debts, had to pay the higher goods price. Once a planter got into debt it was, as a result, difficult for him to pay it off. He had to keep paying for all the things he bought at the higher price, so his debts kept increasing. Most of the Virginians were heavily in debt and their next year’s crop of tobacco already mortgaged to the store.
Goods valued in Britain at one hundred pounds were selling in Virginia at one hundred and seventy-five pounds, so even if they sold tobacco at a loss, men like Ramsay would make huge profits from their retail stores.
After learning that Gav could read and write, Ramsay immediately thought of his possibilities as an indentured servant, although he realised that the boy was very young. He was prepared, however, to send him to the Grammar School for a short time because the school taught bookkeeping, which would be a valuable asset. And, of course, the school only cost about four shillings a quarter, plus the voluntary Candlemas offering.
He called his clerks into his Briggait office room. After allowing them to stand in suspense for a while until he finished attending to some papers on his desk, he glowered up at them.
‘Mind thon red-headed wee rascal? I want him nabbed and brought here!’
He tried to tell himself that there was no more to his thoughts on Gav than business. Yet, forever nudging at the back of his mind and causing him discomfort, was the unfortunate connection between the Chisholm family and his own. Always when he had looked at Jessie he had been reminded of her mother and, in turn, reminded of his sister Prissie.
When they had been very young he and Prissie had got on well together. He had been three years older than her and although they had argued and fought like any other brother and sister, he had been secretly fond of her. He had admired her too. He remembered her vivid imagination and the way her eyes used to widen as she chattered on to him about the most outrageous and fanciful things she had seen or done. Prissie was a marvellous storyteller and kept him enthralled many times. Or made him roar with laughter. It was not until she came into her teens that she was the cause of any worry. It was then her recreations changed from playing ball or hide-and-seek to stranger pastimes like the ritual of the faggot. This was supposed to, according to Prissie, bring about the punishment of someone who had wronged her. The first time it had been her teacher Dominie Bain. She had thrust incense and alum into a faggot and while it burned she chanted:
‘Faggot, I burn thee, but it is the heart, the body and the soul, the blood, the mind, the power of action and the spirit of Dominie Bain which shall burn also. By the power of the earth, the heavens, the rainbow, the twelve lines, by the might of Mars and Mercury and all the planets, may he be unable to rest in peace, to the marrow of his bones. In the name of all demons, depart, faggot, and consume the body, the soul, the power of action and the mind of Dominie Bain so that he may neither stand still, nor talk to any person, nor rest, nor mount a horse, nor cross a river, nor drink, nor eat, until the time when my desire and my will upon him be accomplished. Quanto, gino, garoco!’
Only a few weeks afterwards Dominie Bain had gone swimming in the river down by the Flesher’s Haugh and been drowned. Prissie said it happened because of the faggot ritual. She was elated. He was deeply shocked.
Other rituals had followed at which she had sacrificed puppies and kittens. Then eventually she had begun taking strange fits during which she jerked and moaned and frothed at the mouth. From her mouth also poured cinders and eggshells, feathers and other objects, and despite the fact that he had once caught her gobbling a piece of soap just before one of these fits, he never could be quite sure if the other things were part of a frightening trick Prissie was playing or if the phenomenon was genuine. Prissie moaned and wailed in what certainly appeared genuine distress and told everyone that the devil had come to her in a vision and told her who were his devotees in the town. She now knew the Glasgow witches.
Ministers and lairds and lords and lawyers had come to see her and gone away completely convinced. And so Prissie had begun to point the finger.
Jessie Chisholm’s mother had been the seventeenth victim. He remembered her very well. She had been a sweet and gentle countrywoman and Jessie had been a bonny, loving child.
He had watched the woman burn as he had watched all the others, but this time he knew this burning had to be the last. Prissie had been there too, her face glowing and her eyes wild. They had walked home together. He was silent and she chattered all the time. Once home he had shut the door and followed her into her room. They were alone in the house.
He said: ‘Oh, Prissie, lass. I canna let you go on.’
She looked surprised. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Forgive me,’ he said. And before she could recover from her astonishment his hands were round her throat. His fingers pressed tighter and tighter and all the time her eyes stared into his. He would never forget them. Such shocked, accusing eyes.
Prissie had always been fond of him. She had trusted him completely.
He had never quite lost track of Jessie Chisholm. He knew the child had to have a leg amputated as a result of the torture she had suffered. He knew she was homeless and sleeping on the streets and stairs. It was not until quite a few years had passed, however, that he was able to do anything for her. He put in a good word for her to the Halyburtons and as a result she got work there and he also employed her himself.
Yet nothing could assuage the guilt that plagued him. He tried to crush it out with hard work and conscientiously built up his business. After his wife died he sought comfort in illicit sex with his servant Chrissie Kinkaid, but all that did was to produce more guilt, and a daughter. Often he wondered if Annabella and Nancy knew they were half-sisters.
Thinking of Annabella was like twisting a dagger in his heart. Every day he prayed over and over again that God would forgive her wild and wicked ways and lead her safely home, but there was no hope in his heart. The devil had long ago reached out from Prissie and entered Annabella. Only death would stop the girl now.
Death was in the minds of the Halyburton family too. They had all gone to watch the execution of Jessie Chisholm in order to see justice done. Phemy had felt flustered for quite a time afterwards. She never could enjoy hangings.
‘Poor Jessie!’ she said. ‘I hope she didn’t suffer.’
‘Tuts, Mistress Phemy,’ her mother scolded. ‘What’s punishment without pain?’
Then there had been the Lady Glendinny’s death and funeral. The funeral had been a great occasion and Letitia was confident that if her old friend Murn was looking down from heaven she must have been very pleased. There had been brandy and ale and whisky in abundance. With her own hands she had cooked parn pies, and larks and partridges and pullets and a pyramid of syllabubs and orange cream and sweetmeats wet and dry.
And there had been plenty of ribs and scraps to throw to the dozens of beggars and sorners who crowded the stairs and hopefully followed the funeral procession.
But now Letitia’s thoughts were busying themselves with other plans. One day soon Phemy would take Murn’s place as the Earl’s wife and a trousseau must be gathered. Phemy had not been ecstatic about the choice of husband at first, but she had given in with good grace.
‘You’re no beauty, Mistress Phemy,’ Letitia reminded her. ‘Think yourself verra fortunate a gudeman’s willing to have you.’
Soon Griselle, who was of course now a married lady herself and in an ‘interesting condition’, and Letitia were enjoying themselves helping Phemy with her shopping. They bought wrapping gowns, and powder-gowns and hoops and skirts and petticoats and garters, and ruffles and night-clothes and aprons, all trimmed with lace.
It was on one of these shopping expeditions to the warerooms of John Bogle and then to some booths in the Gallowgate that Phemy spied some of the linen that Jessie was supposed to have stolen.
On questioning the shopkeeper, it was discovered that he had bought it from a packman who had been passing through the town on his way to Edinburgh. The packman had sworn he had come by it honestly, saying that it had been given to him by a distraught widower who was anxious to get rid of his domestic goods and leave the house of grief where his young wife had died in tragic circumstances.
‘Wicked lies,’ wailed Phemy. ‘The packman’s the one who stole your linen, Mother. It wasn’t poor Jessie after all.’
‘Aye, weel, I’m glad to hear it,’ said Letitia primly. ‘It’s a bad day when servants canna be trusted.’
‘Will you tell the bellman? It’s only fair to see that her name is cleared, is it not?’
‘Indeed, Mistress Phemy. You’ve no need to ask. I’ve always been a verra fair-minded woman.’
And so the bellman bawled through the streets that Jessie Chisholm recently hangit for stealing linen had not in fact stolen anything at all.
Gav listened, his face grey with anger.
‘I knew my mammy wasn’t a thief. I hate them for murdering her.’
Quin said: ‘Oh-ho, murder, is it?’
‘They murdered her.’ Gav fought to keep his lips from trembling. ‘I hate them.’
‘Quin keeps telling you, Gav, it’s different for folks with money.’
Gav’s jaw set and he glowered at Quin.
‘Murder’s murder! I don’t care how much money these bloody tobacco merchants or their bloody families have.’
Quin rubbed his ear.
‘Oh-ho, that’s dangerous talk, Gavie. Dangerous talk. Could you no’ just hate another wee beggar like yoursel’, eh?’
But before Gav could answer both he and Quin were startled by a sudden shout that echoed recklessly down the street.
‘Catch that wee red-headed rascal. He’s wanted by Merchant Ramsay!’
Without waiting to see who set up the cry, Quin and Gav gusted round the nearest corner like the wind. Then in and out through the maze of back closes they raced until the voices faded away further and further behind them.
‘Phew!’ puffed Quin eventually. ‘Quin’s no’ as young as he used to be, eh!’
‘It’s all right. We’ve lost them.’
Gav felt suddenly spent. But it was more the intensity of his emotions than from his physical exertion. Thoughts about his mother had stirred memories of Regina. He missed her acutely and worried about her all the time. He longed for some assurance that she was safe.
At that very moment Regina was thinking much the same about him and her emotions kept tugging at her and tiring her too. Life was becoming more and more frightening and bewildering. From her own eavesdropping and that of other servants she picked up a continuous flow of confusing gossip and information. Nancy, especially, knew a great deal that was going on because she had, it seemed, bewitched one of the chieftains. She was equally catched by him because often late at night she would whisper to Regina:
‘You see to the mistress if she calls before morning. I’m away to lie with my big handsome Highlander.’
Regina did not mind so much if she was left to sleep on the floor inside Annabella’s bedroom. But if Lavelle was there, and he usually was, she had to sleep outside in the corridor. Only she never slept because she was so terrified that some of the other Frenchies or Irishmen might suddenly appear and grab her. And each time Lavelle came she hated him all the more. She hated the whole Jacobite army for causing the danger and insecurity of her existence. She did not know where they were going or what they were doing except that they were retreating. Yet why they should be retreating she could not fathom because it seemed they were still winning every battle.
After struggling through heavy snow, the Prince and Lord Murray’s divisions had reunited at Inverness. They had taken Fort George, Fort Augustus and Fort William. A raid on government outposts in Atholl was brilliantly successful and later, when on the point of taking Blair Castle which was occupied by government forces, Lord George Murray was recalled by Sir Thomas Sheridan. Murray suspected that it had been Sheridan or O’Sullivan who was also responsible for changing the orders about the rendezvous of the troops.
The Prince was now spending most of his time shooting, fishing and dancing. He had either recovered his original optimism or he was putting on a very good front of nonchalance, or he had just lost all interest in everyday military matters. The chiefs were inclined to the belief that his favoured circle of Irish advisers were so flattering him and so softening and distorting every harsh fact that the Prince was becoming more and more divorced from the realities of the situation. That the Irish mercenaries, or ‘gentlemen of fortune’ as they preferred being called, or ‘wild geese’ as they were nicknamed, were the Prince’s favourites and that he felt gratitude towards them there could be no doubt. He was continually anxious to know if he had rewarded them with suitable commissions and honours. The Irishmen seemed to blend more smoothly and easily with the type of men and the life Charles Edward had been used to. They were, for a start, of the same religion as himself. They were gay, charming, honey-spoken yet volatile, and they, like the Prince, were genuinely shocked and deeply disturbed by the way in which the Scottish chiefs could argue with, contradict and even disobey royal wishes and commands. Believing as they did in the Divine Right of Kings (as also did the chiefs, it had to be admitted) it was inconceivable that such behaviour could stem from anything except villainous treachery. And to support their case they could point to Highlanders like old Simon Fraser, wily Lord Lovat, ‘the fox of the Forty-Five’, who acted as a government man and was feeding information down to London, yet keeping a foot in both camps by sending his son to lead his clan of Fräsers for the old cause. It was also remembered that although Lord George Murray had as so many young men fought for King James in the 1715 rebellion, he had afterwards asked for and received a pardon from the English government. But whatever the Prince’s reasons for favouring the Irish, the fact remained that his Irish advisers began issuing orders without consulting the Prince. This was causing great confusion to everyone. Every effort made by the Scottish chiefs and nobles to organise their army was liable to be countermanded. With the command split, the rank-and-file were encouraged to ignore orders and began to deteriorate into a rabble. They were becoming more and more dispersed. The Prince’s war-chest was empty and his men were without pay or meals. They had, as a result, to go foraging for food and could not be easily assembled when the need arose. But the Prince was not able to face these facts and this inability was steadily widening the breach between him and his long-suffering commander, Lord George Murray.
There were angry murmurs among all the chiefs about the Prince’s growing habit of surrounding himself with Irishmen. As loyal and courageous as the Highland chiefs in battle, they might well be, although O’Sullivan had a nervous disorder and when he was upset he would retire to bed for frequent bleedings. In Lord George’s opinion he was an idiot who fought wars in his nightcap. But the ability of the Irishmen to advise in military matters had over and over again proved them not only wrong-headed but in O’Sullivan’s case muddle-headed and completely ignorant of the character of the Highlander.
Nancy told Annabella: ‘The chiefs are still loyal to their prince but they are beginning to feel badly used. They did not give up all their land and everything they owned to be ordered about like common soldiers by Irish mercenaries. Or indeed treated by the Prince as being no different from ordinary soldiers. They are given no respect for their titles and position, while at the same time His Royal Highness heaps honours on his Irish favourites.’
But Annabella was not much interested in either political or military matters. She just laughed and said:
‘So, Nancy, you have captured your gentleman at last, and a fellow countryman just as you said. You are an uncommonly determined wench. And he is a fine big strapping fellow. I have never made love with a bearded man. Maybe I’ll have to try with him.’
Nancy’s eyes flashed a warning. ‘I will kill anyone who lays a finger on him.’
Annabella laughed again.
‘Have no fear, Nancy. You may keep your big bearded Highlander. I am perfectly content with my handsome, clean-shaven Frenchman.’
‘You’re more than content, mistress,’ Nancy said. ‘I can see that, and now I know how you feel.’
‘Do you?’ Annabella avoided Nancy’s eyes and Regina noticed a level of emotion that she had not suspected Mistress Annabella capable of. ‘Oh, Nancy, Nancy,’ Annabella said.