Unknown (78 page)

Trumpets
rang out again, and horns blew, and the entire royalist front moved
forward, not in any charge at this stage, but steadily, sufficiently
to further upset worried militiamen.

Montrose
halted his centre still outside musket range. But the right wing,
under Colkitto, surged into a charge, pipers playing his Ulstermen
on, wild Irish screeches rising to a crescendo.

It
was more Lowland militiamen who faced them, for the Campbell clansmen
mass formed the centre. Colkitto had farther to go than O'Cahar. -
but his charge was just as fearsome.

Montrose
was now dividing his attention principally between O'Cahan and those
cannon. There was a great stir and confusion in the middle of the
Campbell position and towards the rear, where no doubt the pieces
were being manhandled into position and turned to face the enemy, and
the ponies with the ball and powder were being pushed through the
press. Little could actually be seen because of the dense ranks of
clansmen in front. But, by the same token, the cannoneers could not
see their targets, and there was just not enough elevation to fire
over the heads of their folk. So crowded, indeed, was die whaleback
that there
wa3
just
no room for the cannon and garrons.

On
the left, O'Cahan's men reached the rising ground, and went leaping
up in full cry, naked steel flashing in the new-rising sun. And
without waiting for the impact, the militiamen turned and fled,
without getting in a second volley. The ground immediately behind
them there was much waterlogged, so they streamed off half-right,
back towards the castle area,
500
of
them, throwing into some confusion the rear ranks of the Campbells
and utterly demoralising dieir colleagues of the reserve who were
still advancing across the levels. O'Cahan's Islesmen, seeming to
race after them with unabated enthusiasm, suddenly followed
their leader in swinging round behind the main enemy front, between
it and the faltering rearguard. Ignoring the massed Campbells
altogether, they dashed on towards the rear of the left-wing
militiamen facing Colkitto, caring nodiing that for much of the way
they were splashing through pools and runnels of icy water.

These
Lowlanders stood their ground rather better than did their
colleagues, but not for long. They had seen what had happened on
their right, and they quickly became aware of the extraordinary
threat in their rear. The gigantic Colkitto, leading the screaming
Irish, was large-enough anxiety, especially as many of the latter had
pistols as well as swords and pikes. There was a ragged exchange of
fire, with little effect on either side, and the militia front began
to waver and cave in.

Montrose
drew his own sword, pointed to John of Moidart, and his trumpeter
blew the general advance. With a mighty earth-shaking roar the
royalist main body of MacDonalds broke into a run, like hounds
unleashed. And from behind the little ridge at their backs, the
reserve emerged, shouting likewise, to take their place.

It
was probably the sight of that unexpected reinforcement, even
though there were no more than
250
of
them, that broke the militiamen of the left. Throwing down their
fired muskets, they bolted. O'Cahan was on their left and Colkitto at
their backs, so they ran half-right also, northwestwards into
the bog.

The
Campbell mass stood solid, isolated, on its whaleback, deprived
abruptly of flanking cover, and with rear threatencd.

Montrose
did not actually lead his centre's advance. It would not do to seem
to supersede the Captain of Clanranald. He contented himself with
remaining in the racing front line - and with keeping an eye on young
Johnnie. In the main, his own major part was played. He had brought
the two sides to grips, as advantageously as he could. It was now up
to others.

Or,
almost. Just before the front clashed, he ordered the trumpeter, who
stayed almost as close to one shoulder as Black Pate did to the
other, to sound a special and repeated call. This was for O'Cahan and
Colkitto's men to break off from whatever they were doing, and to
concentrate on making a ring of steel round the Campbell position.

And
so the real battle commenced. The Campbells still outnumbered their
attackers two to one. But they were cramped and crowded in a vast
huddle of
3000
men,
with no room not only for manoeuvre but for free work with sword and
pike. Moreover, only those on the perimeter were- in touch with their
foes, and the rest, half their strength, could effect nothing. This
whaleback was in fact a death-trap, its illusion of firm ground
little more than a constricting menace.

The
Campbells fought bravely, or rather died bravely; but it could not be
said that they fought well - since they could not. Surrounded,
restricted, hampered, frustrated, they fell where they stood and were
replaced by their fellows, from behind, almost with relief. Soon the
MacDonalds, in their element at last, were standing on top of banks
of slain, thus gaining desired additional height and reach. And the
great circle, or rather ellipse, shrank.

Montrose
had fallen heir to some of the garrons which had carried the
ammunition, and mounting himself on one's broad back was able to
survey the battle from something of a vantage-point There was little
that he could do to affect the issue of the ding-dong struggle. But
he was able to summon forward the reserve when the doubtful enemy
rearguard looked like reassembling and joining in the fight And he
sent Sir David Ogilvy and a company of Athollmen to silence marksmen
in the castle, musketeers who had taken refuge there and were sniping
long-distance at any who came within range. For the rest, he circled
the fearful conflict, with Johnnie and Airlie, not knowing
whether to cheer or to weep. Massed slaughter and bloodshed at close
quarters was not to his taste, general or none.

The
eventual outcome was not long in doubt, barring unforeseen
developments. The Campbells might break out, but they would never
gain the mastery now. From the start they had been out-manoeuvred,
their advantage in numbers nullified. Their leadership might be
brave enough, and conventionally effective, but it had lost die
initiative and allowed itself to be trapped in the centre of an
ever-narrowing circle. At this rate, it was achieving nothing - even
though it might be the last to die.

Colkitto,
however, had ideas about that last. Collecting a team of mighty
sworders about him, he spearheaded a wedge of smiters in a drive into
the Campbell centre, himself out-doing all in the fury of his
onslaught, his enormous reach, untiring energy and bellowing
bull-like roaring enough to clear a way through the dense pack so
long as his back was protected. He was, of course, a superlative
captain of gallowglasses, however odd a major-general. Steadily he
hacked and hewed a passage through, towards the enemy leadership,
still sitting their mounts in the midst.

Montrose,
Johnnie at his side, watched fascinated. He saw the giant reach the
central group, apparently unharmed. He saw Sir Donald Campbell of
Auchenbreck, from horseback raise a pistol and fire at Colkitto. He
heard that man's great shout of laughter even amidst all the unholy
din so that presumably the shot had missed its mark or done scant
damage. And then he saw a huge bare arm and sword-hand come up to
sweep the small, neat and grizzled Campbell right out of his
saddle, the dirk in the other hand struck fiercely but expertly, once
only, and Auchenbreck disappeared in the press while Colkitto
strode on.

Whether
it was the fall of their principal leader, or the fact that the whole
enemy position was now practically cut in two, the Campbells' dogged
defence thereafter began to falter and disintegrate. They still
fought vigorously, but they were of a sudden concerned with cutting
their way through and out, rather than with maintaining a front- It
was every man for himself.

Soon
the whole battle had broken up into innumerable struggling groups and
running men. In every direction the enemy fled - if they could. And
after them raced the yelling MacDonalds, Macleans, Camerons and
Stewarts, doing at last what they had sought to do all their lives -
hunting down defeated Campbells.

At
this stage, with all obviously over save individual killing,
Montrose would have called off the fighting. He ordered his
trumpeters to sound the recall - and to go on sounding it. He might
as well have shouted commands to a pack of wolves. None save the
Athollmen, Drummonds and Grahams heeded. The rest were about their
own business. The Battle of Inverlochy might be over, well before
noonday, for better or worse; the killing was not.

Montrose
did his best. He divided his officers amongst parties of the troops
who would obey them, and ordered them to protect the Lowland militia
who had laid down their arms back in the camp area. He sent out tough
men such as Black Pate and O'Cahan to try to halt, or at least limit,
the running slaughter. He himself led a company to capture the castle
- but the snipers here fled without further opposition. From the
ramparts thereafter he gazed out over the scene of his triumph,
set-faced - and saw Argyll's antiquated galley starting to speed
seawards with all the power of its double-banked oars, even as scores
of his clansmen desperately hurled themselves into Loch Linnhe
to swim out towards it and safety from their hunters.

James
Graham, a patriot, groaned for Scotland.

• •
‘

That
evening, feasting on Campbell provision once more, in the Great Hall
of Inverlochy Castle, part-derelict but a palace compared with their
quarters of recent nights, Montrose called together such of his
officers as were available - many of the Higldanders had just never
returned from their Campbell-slaying - and such as were sufficiently
sober, and sought to gain a full picture of the situation, its
implications, and how fullest advantage might be taken.

The
details of the battle, now marshalled before him, were extraordinary,
scarcely credible. Although they had sustained many wounded - and one
of these, unhappily, had died just an hour before, Sir Thomas Ogilvy,
youngest son of Airlie - only three others were dead on the royalist
side. Whereas the Campbell slain already counted amounted to over
1500.
A
large proportion of these, undoubtedly, had been hunted down and
despatched as fugitives, and the bodies of many others would no doubt
never be found. On the ridge of the whaleback itself, over forty
Campbell barons and lairds had died, in addition to Auchenbreck. More
than half of the total Campbell army had been wiped out, therefore,
a proportion unknown in any battle since Flodden. The Lowland militia
had suffered comparatively lightly, the majority of them now
prisoners, strictly guarded for their own protection. Not that the
Highlanders seemed to have any interest in them - except as a source
of booty and matchlocks, despising them as beneath their notice.

Arms,
munitions and supplies captured were more than enough to re-equip the
entire royalist army - if such a thing diere was, any more. This was
the question that was worrying Montrose, even as his companions
congratulated him, and themselves, on the scale of their victory.

The
Master of Madderty summed up the attitude of most of the Lowland
officers. You have not won only a battle, James - you have here won a
campaign, possibly even a war, a nation indeed! For you have broken
the power of the Campbells now - that is certain. Argyll will never
again put a Campbell army in the field. And Argyll
is
the
Covenant, his name and his power its strength. This day we have
demolished that name and strength.'