While trying and executing Montrose
for loyalty to the king, the Scots were themselves
negotiating with Charles, commissioners having come
over to Breda, where he was living, for the purpose.
They insisted upon his swearing to be faithful to
the Covenant, to his submitting himself to the advice
of the Parliament and Church, and to his promising
never to permit the exercise of the Catholic religion
in any part of his dominions. Charles agreed
to everything demanded of him, having all the time
no intention whatever of keeping his promises.
While he was swearing to observe everything the Scots
asked of him, he was writing to Ormonde to tell him
that he was to mind nothing he heard as to his agreement
with the Scots, for that he would do all the Irish
required. Charles, indeed, although but a young
man of twenty, was as full of duplicity and faithlessness
as his father, without possessing any of the virtues
of that unfortunate king, and the older and wiser men
among his followers were alienated by his dissolute
conduct, and by the manner in which he gave himself
up to the reckless counsels of men like Buckingham
and Wilmot.
Harry heard with deep regret the many
stories current of the evil life and ways of the young
king. Had it not been for the deadly hatred which
he felt to Cromwell and the Puritans for the murder
of Sir Arthur Ashton, and the rest of the garrison
and people of Drogheda, in cold blood, he would have
retired altogether from the strife, and would have
entered one of the continental armies, in which many
Royalist refugees had already taken service.
He determined, however, that he would join in this
one expedition, and that if it failed he would take
no further part in civil wars in England, but wait
for the time, however distant, when, as he doubted
not, the people of England would tire of the hard rule
of the men of the army and conventicle, and would,
with open arms, welcome the return of their sovereign.
Early in June the king sailed for
Scotland, accompanied by the regiment which Harry
had raised, and a few hundred other troops. He
landed there on the 16th. The English Parliament
at once appointed Cromwell captain-general and commander-in-chief
of all the forces raised and to be raised within the
commonwealth of England. A few days later he left
London, and on the 23d of June entered Scotland with
sixteen thousand men. King Charles, to whom Harry
had been presented by Prince Rupert as one of his
father’s most gallant and faithful soldiers,
received him at first with great cordiality.
As soon as he found, however, that this young colonel
was in no way inclined to join in his dissipations,
that his face was stern and set when light talk or
sneers against religion were uttered by the king’s
companions, Charles grew cold to him, and Harry was
glad to be relieved from all personal attendance upon
him, and to devote himself solely to his military
duties. Upon landing in Scotland, Harry, with
his regiment, was encamped in the valley between Edinburgh
Castle and the high hill called Arthur’s Seat.
A few days after his arrival he, with Jacob, who was
now raised to the rank of major, and William Long,
who was one of his lieutenants, entered the palace
of Holyrood, where the king’s court was held.
Here were gathered a motley assembly. A few English
Cavaliers, many loyal Scotch nobles and gentlemen,
and a large number of somber men of the Covenant.
Next to Charles stood a tall man, whom Harry instantly
recognized. Argyll, for it was he, stared fixedly
at the young colonel, who returned his look with one
as cold and haughty.
“This is Colonel Furness, my
lord earl,” the young king said. “One
of my father’s bravest and most devoted followers.”
“I seem to have met the gentleman before,”
the earl said.
“You have,” Harry replied
coldly. “At that time the Earl of Argyll
threatened to torture me into betraying the secrets
of his majesty, and would, I doubt not, have carried
his threat into effect had I not escaped from his
hands. The times have changed, and the Earl of
Argyll now stands beside his king, but I, sir, have
not forgotten the past so easily.” So saying,
with a deep bow to the king, Harry passed on.
“Harry,” whispered Donald
Leslie, a young Scotch officer who had joined the
ranks of his regiment as captain at Hamburg, “hitherto
I have thought you the wisest and most discreet of
men. I cannot say as much now. It would
have been safer to walk into a den of lions than to
insult the old red fox. He was never known to
forgive, and those who offend him have a short life.
Beware, colonel, for henceforth you carry your life
in your hand.”
“My sword is as sharp as his,”
Harry laughed, as they issued into the open air.
“I doubt it not,” Leslie
said, “but it is with daggers rather than swords
that Argyll fights, and with secret plottings more
than either. Edinburgh swarms with Campbells,
any one of whom would think no more of running you
through at his lord’s command than he would of
killing a rat. Mark my words, before a week is
out you will be engaged in some broil or other.”
Jacob and William Long heard with
great disquietude the remarks of the young Scotch
officer, which they knew sufficient of Argyll to be
aware were perfectly true. They resolved that
they would maintain a careful watch over their friend,
and that night they charged Mike, who was now a tall,
active young fellow of seventeen, to keep the strictest
watch as he followed his master in the streets, and
to have pistol and sword always in readiness.
Two days later Harry had the first
evidence of the truth of Leslie’s prediction.
He was walking up the High Street, accompanied by Jacob,
while Leslie and two or three of his officers followed
a short distance behind, when three or four Scotch
nobles were seen approaching. One of these, Colonel
Campbell, of Arrain, a tall and powerful figure, in
passing jostled roughly against Harry.
“S’death, sir!”
he exclaimed. “Do you think that you are
in England, that you can take up the whole of the
road?”
“I’m as much entitled
to the road as yourself,” Harry said hotly; “you
purposely jostled me.”
“Well, sir, and what if I did?”
Colonel Campbell replied. “If you don’t
like it you have your remedy,” and he touched
his sword significantly.
“I will meet you, sir,”
Harry said, “in an hour’s time at the foot
of the Castlehill.”
The colonel nodded, and accompanied
by his kinsmen strode on.
“Jacob, you and Leslie will act with me?”
Harry asked.
“Willingly enough,” Leslie
replied. “But it is a bad business.
Campbell has the name of being one of the best swordsmen
in the Scottish army. Of course he has been set
on to attack you.”
“I have been fighting,”
Harry said, “for the last ten years, and was
not a bad swordsman when I began. Unless I mistake,
I am as powerful a man as Colonel Campbell, and I
fear not him or any man.”
At the time appointed Harry, accompanied
by his seconds, was upon the ground, where five minutes
later they were joined by Colonel Campbell, with two
of his kinsmen. While the principals divested
themselves of their cloaks and doublets, the seconds
compared their swords. They were of entirely
different fashion, Harry’s being long and straight
with sharp edges, while Colonel Campbell’s was
a basket-hilted sword, also straight and double edged,
and even larger and much heavier than Harry’s;
each had brought one of similar make and size to his
own. Some conversation took place as to the weapons
which should be used.
“I cannot fight with a plaything
like that,” Colonel Campbell said roughly.
“And I object equally,”
Harry puts in calmly, “to wield a heavier weapon
than that to which I am accustomed. But I am quite
content to fight with my own against that of Colonel
Campbell.”
The seconds at first on both sides
objected to this, arguing that the weight and length
of Campbell’s weapon would give him an unfair
advantage. Harry, however, was firm.
“A man fights better,”
he said, “with the sword to which he is used.
Mine is of tried temper, and I have no fear of its
breaking.” Harry had good reason for faith
in his weapon. It was a long, straight blade of
Toledo steel, which he had purchased for a considerable
sum from a Spanish Jew in Hamburg. Colonel Campbell
put an end to the argument by roughly saying that
he wanted no more talk, and that if Colonel Furness
meant fighting he had better take up his ground.
This had already been marked out, and Harry immediately
stood on the defensive.
In a moment the swords met. Colonel
Campbell at once attacked furiously, trying to beat
down Harry’s guard by sheer strength and the
weight of his weapon. The Englishman, however,
was to the full as powerful a man, and his muscles
from long usage were like cords of steel. His
blade met the sweeping blows of the Scotchman firmly
and steadily, while his point over and over again
menaced the breast of his adversary, who several times
only saved himself by springing back beyond it.
Harry’s seconds saw from the first that the
issue was not doubtful. In a contest between
the edge and the point, the latter always wins if strength
and skill be equal, and in this case, while in point
of strength the combatants were fairly matched, Harry
was more skilled in the use of his weapon, whose lightness,
combined with its strength, added to his advantage.
The fight lasted but five minutes. Twice Harry’s
sword drew blood, and at the third thrust he ran his
adversary through under the shoulder. The latter
dropped his sword, with a curse.
“I have spared your life, Colonel
Campbell,” Harry said. “It was at
my mercy a dozed times, but I wished not to kill you.
You forced this quarrel upon me at the bidding of
another, and against you I had no animosity.
Farewell, sir. I trust that ere the day of battle
you will be able to use your sword again in the service
of the king.”
So saying, Harry resumed his doublet
and cloak, and, accompanied by his seconds, returned
to his camp, leaving Campbell, furious with pain and
disappointment, to be conveyed home by his friends.
“So far, so good, Harry,”
Captain Leslie said. “The attempt will,
you will find, be a more serious one. Argyll
will not try fair means again. But beware how
you go out at night.”
The duel made a good deal of talk,
and Argyll attempted to induce the king to take the
matter up, and to punish Harry for his share in it.
But the young king, although obliged to listen every
day to the long sermons and admonitions of the Covenanters,
was heartily sick of them already and answered Argyll
lightly that, so far as he had heard of the circumstances,
Colonel Campbell was wholly to blame. “And,
indeed,” added the king, “from what I
have heard, the conduct of your kinsman was so wantonly
insulting that men say he must have been provoked thereto
by others, as the two officers appear to have been
strangers until the moment when their quarrel arose.”
The earl grew paler than usual, and
pressed his thin lips tightly together.
“I know of no reason,”
he said, “why Colonel Campbell should have engaged
wantonly in a quarrel with this English officer.”
“No!” Charles said innocently.
“And if you do not, my lord, I know of no one
that does. Colonel Furness is an officer who is
somewhat staid and severe for his years, and who,
in sooth, stands somewhat aloof from me, and cares
not for the merry jests of Buckingham; but he is a
gallant soldier. He has risked his life over
and over again in the cause of my sainted father,
and tried his utmost to save him, both at Carisbrook
and Whitehall. Any one who plots against him
is no friend of mine.” The young king spoke
with a dignity and sternness which were not common
to him, and Argyll, biting his lips, felt a deadlier
enmity than ever toward the man who had brought this
reproof upon his shoulders.
The following day Harry received orders
from General Leslie, who commanded the royal forces,
to march down toward the border, accompanied by two
regiments of horse. He was to devastate the country
and to fall back gradually before Cromwell’s
advance, the cavalry harassing him closely, but avoiding
any serious conflict with the Roundhead horse.
The whole party were under the command of Colonel
Macleod.
“I am heartily glad to be on
the move, Jacob,” Harry said, on the evening
before starting. “It is not pleasant to
know that one is in constant danger of being attacked
whenever one goes abroad. Once away from Edinburgh
one may hope to be beyond the power of Argyll.”
“I would not be too sure of
that,” Donald Leslie said. “A hound
on the track of a deer is not more sure or untiring
than is Argyll when he hunts down a foe. Be warned
by me, and never relax a precaution so long as you
are on Scottish ground. There are men who whisper
that even now, when he stands by the side of the king,
Argyll is in communication with Cromwell. Trust
me, if he can do you an ill turn, he will.”
Upon the following morning the detachment
marched, with flags flying and drums beating, and
the king himself rode down to see them depart.
Argyll was with him, and the king, as if in bravado
of the formidable earl, waved his hand to Harry, and
said: “Good-by, my grave colonel. Take
care of yourself, and do not spare my enemies as you
spared my friend.”
Harry doffed his plumed hat, and rode
on at the head of his regiment. The force marched
rapidly, for it was known that Cromwell was within
a few days of Berwick. So fast did they travel
that in three days they were near the border.
Then they began the work which they had been ordered
to carry out. Every head of cattle was driven
up the country, and the inhabitants were ordered to
load as much of their stores of grain in wagons as
these would hold, and to destroy the rest. The
force under Colonel Macleod saw that these orders
were carried out, and when, on the 14th of July, Cromwell
crossed the Tweed, he found the whole country bare
of all provision for his troops. In vain his cavalry
made forays to a distance from the coast. Harry’s
foot opposed them at every defensible point, while
the cavalry hung upon their skirts. In vain the
Roundheads tried to charge by them. The Scotch
cavalry, in obedience to orders, avoided a contest,
and day after day Cromwell’s troopers had to
return empty handed, losing many of their men by the
fire of Harry’s infantry. Thus the army
of Cromwell was obliged to advance slowly upon the
line of coast, drawing their supplies wholly from the
fleet which accompanied it.
One evening Colonel Macleod rode up
to the cottage where Harry was quartered for the night.
“I am going to beat up Oliver’s
camp to-night,” he said. “Do you cover
the retreat with your men at the ford of the river.
If I can get for five minutes in his camp I will read
the Roundheads a lesson, and maybe spike some of his
cannon. If I could catch Cromwell himself it would
be as good as a great victory.”
After nightfall the force approached
the enemy’s camp; at the ford the infantry halted,
the cavalry crossing and continuing their way to the
camp, about a mile distant. An hour passed without
any sound being heard. At length a sound of distant
shouts, mingled with the reports of firearms, fell
upon the ear.
“Macleod is among them now,”
Donald Leslie exclaimed. “I would I wore
with him.”
“You will have your turn presently,”
Harry replied. “A thousand horse may do
a good deal of damage in a sudden attack, but they
must fall back as soon as tis Roundheads rally.”
For five or six minutes the distant
tumult continued. Then it ceased almost as suddenly
as it had begun. A minute or two later there was
a deep, muffled sound.
“Here come the horse,” Jacob said.
The infantry had already been placed
along the bank of the river on each side of the ford,
leaving the way clear in the center for the passage
of the cavalry. It was not long before they arrived
on the opposite bank, and dashed at full speed across
the river. Colonel Macleod rode at their rear.
“The Ironsides are just behind,”
he said to Harry. “Let your men shoot sharp
and straight as they try to cross. We will charge
them as they reach the bank.”
A minute later, and the close files
of the Roundhead cavalry could be seen approaching,
the moonlight glinting on steel cap, breastpiece, and
sword.
“Steady, lads!” Harry
shouted. “Do not fire a shot till they enter
the river. Then keep up a steady fire on the
head of the column.”
The Roundheads halted when they reached
the river, and formed rapidly into a column, twelve
abreast, for the ford was no wider. As they entered
the stream a heavy musketry fire opened suddenly upon
them. Men and horses went down, floating away
in the river. In spite of their losses the cavalry
pressed on, and though numbers fell, gained the opposite
bank. Then arose the Royalist cry “King
and Covenant!” and the Scottish horse swept
down. The head of the column was shattered by
the charge, but the Ironsides still pressed on, and
breaking the center of the Scottish horse, poured
across the river.
Harry had already given his orders
to Jacob, who commanded the left wing of the infantry,
and the regiment, drawing up on both flanks of the
column of Ironsides, poured so heavy a fire upon them,
while the cavalry of Macleod again charged them in
front, that the column was broken, and still fighting
sturdily, fell back again across the river. The
moment they did so a heavy fire of musketry opened
from the further bank.
“Their infantry are up, Colonel
Furness,” Macleod said. “Draw off
your men in good order. I will cover the retreat.
We have done enough for to-night.”
Getting his regiment together, Harry
ordered them to retire at the double, keeping their
formation as they went. The Roundhead cavalry
again crossed the river, and several times charged
the Scotch horse. Twice they succeeded in breaking
through, but Harry, facing his men round, received
them pike in hand, the musketeers in rear keeping up
so hot a fire over the shoulders of the pikemen that
the Ironsides drew rein before reaching them, and
presently fell back, leaving the party to retire without
further pursuit.
“I as nearly as possible caught
Cromwell,” Colonel Macleod said, riding up to
Harry. “We got confused among the tents
and ropes, or should have had him. We entered
his tent, but the bird had flown. We cut down
some scores of his infantry, and spiked four guns,
I have not lost twenty men, and his cavalry must have
lost at least a hundred from your fire, besides the
damage I did at their camp.”
Obtaining a stock of supplies sufficient
for some days from the ships at Dunbar, Cromwell advanced
to Musselburgh, within striking distance of Edinburgh.
Leslie had strongly posted his army in intrenched lines
extending from Edinburgh to Leith, a distance of two
miles. Colonel Macleod with his detachment rejoined
the army on the same day that Cromwell reached Musselburgh.
Upon the day after the arrival of the English there
was a sharp cavalry fight, and Cromwell would fain
have tempted the Scotch army to engage beyond their
lines. But Leslie was not to be drawn. He
knew that if he could maintain himself in his intrenchments
the English must fall back, as they had the sea behind
them and on their right, Edinburgh in front of them,
and a devastated country on their left. At the
urgent request of Cromwell the Parliament strained
every nerve to send up provisions by ships, and so
enabled him to remain before Edinburgh for a month.
A few days after his arrival Harry
received orders to take a hundred and fifty men of
his regiment, and to post himself at Kirkglen, which
blocked a road by which it was thought Cromwell might
send foraging parties westward. Harry asked that
a detachment of cavalry might accompany him, but the
request was refused. Kirkglen stood fifteen miles
south of Edinburgh, and somewhat to its west.
Harry left Jacob to command the main body of the regiment,
and took with him the companies of Donald Leslie and
Hugh Grahame, in the latter of which William Long
was lieutenant. They sallied out from the western
side of the camp at daybreak.
“I like not this expedition,
Colonel Furness,” Donald Leslie said. “The
refusal to send cavalry with us is strange. Methinks
I see the finger of that crafty fox Argyll in the
pie. His faithfulness to the cause is more and
more doubted, though none dare wag a tongue against
him, and if it be true that he is in communication
with Cromwell, we shall have the Roundheads, horse
and foot, down upon us.”
“There is a castle there, is
there not,” Harry asked, “which we might
occupy?”
“Assuredly there is,”
Leslie replied. “It is the hold of Alan
Campbell, a cousin of the man you pinked. It
is that which adds to my suspicion. You will
see, unless I am greatly mistaken, that he will not
admit us.”
Such, indeed, proved to be the case.
Upon their arrival at Kirkglen, Leslie went in Harry’s
name to demand admittance to the castle for the royal
troops, but Campbell replied that he had received no
orders to that effect, and that it would greatly incommode
him to quarter so large a number of men there.
He said, however, that he would willingly entertain
Colonel Furness and his officers. Leslie brought
back the message, strongly urging Harry on no account
to enter the castle and put himself in the hands of
the Campbells. Harry said that even had he no
cause to doubt the welcome he might receive at the
castle, he should in no case separate himself from
his men, when he might be at any moment attacked.
“It is a rough piece of country
between this and Cromwell’s post,” Leslie
said, “and he would have difficulty in finding
his way hither. There is more than one broad
morass to be crossed, and without a guide he would
scarce attempt it. It is for this reason that
he is so unlikely to send out foraging parties in
this direction. It was this reflection which
caused me to wonder why we should be ordered hither.”
“Mike,” Harry said, “you
have heard what Captain Leslie says. Do you keep
watch to-night near the castle gate, and let me know
whether any leave it; and in which direction they
go. I will place a man behind to watch the postern.
If treachery is meditated, Campbell will send news
of our coming to Cromwell.”