“See him on board, if you will, Sir Duncan,”
said Auchenbreck to his kinsman; “It must be
my duty to prevent this spirit from spreading farther
among us.”
So saying, he threw himself among the ranks, entreating,
commanding, and conjuring the soldiers, to remember
their ancient fame and their present superiority;
the wrongs they had to revenge, if successful, and
the fate they had to dread, if vanquished; and imparting
to every bosom a portion of the fire which glowed
in his own. Slowly, meanwhile, and apparently
with reluctance, Argyle suffered himself to be forced
by his officious kinsmen to the verge of the lake,
and was transported on board of a galley, from the
deck of which he surveyed with more safety than credit
the scene which ensued.
Sir Duncan Campbell of Ardenvohr, notwithstanding
the urgency of the occasion, stood with his eyes riveted
on the boat which bore his Chieftain from the field
of battle. There were feelings in his bosom which
could not be expressed; for the character of a Chief
was that of a father, and the heart of a clansman
durst not dwell upon his failings with critical severity
as upon those of other men. Argyle, too, harsh
and severe to others, was generous and liberal among
his kinsmen, and the noble heart of, Ardenvohr was
wrung with bitter anguish, when he reflected to what
interpretation his present conduct might subject him.
“It is better it should be so,” said he
to himself, devouring his own emotion; “but—of
his line of a hundred sires, I know not one who would
have retired while the banner of Diarmid waved in the
wind, in the face of its most inveterate foes!”
A loud shout now compelled him to turn, and to hasten
with all dispatch to his post, which was on the right
flank of Argyle’s little army.
The retreat of Argyle had not passed unobserved by
his watchful enemy, who, occupying the superior ground,
could mark every circumstance which passed below.
The movement of three or four horsemen to the rear
showed that those who retreated were men of rank.
“They are going,” said Dalgetty, “to
put their horses out of danger, like prudent cavaliers.
Yonder goes Sir Duncan Campbell, riding a brown bay
gelding, which I had marked for my own second charger.”
“You are wrong, Major,” said Montrose,
with a bitter smile, “they are saving their
precious Chief—Give the signal for assault
instantly—send the word through the ranks.—Gentlemen,
noble Chiefs, Glengarry, Keppoch, M’Vourigh,
upon them instantly!—Ride to M’Ilduy,
Major Dalgetty, and tell him to charge as he loves
Lochaber—return and bring our handful of
horse to my standard. They shall be placed with
the Irish as a reserve.”
As meets a rock a thousand
waves, so Inisfail met Lochlin.
—Ossian.
