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For the last two centuries
there has not, perhaps, been a more notorious cattle-lifter than Donald
Gruimach. From his very grim and ferocious appearance he was better known
by the soubriquet of "Gruimach." Indeed, Donald was the terror of the
whole country, especially the Black Isle, to which his depredations were
chiefly confined, and whose lairds he most unsparingly plundered of their
best cattle and sheep. He resided near Tarradale, and never walked abroad
without his bitac (dirk) and skian dhu. His courage was as
reckless, as his presence of mind was astonishing, and being thoroughly
acquainted with the locale of the scene of his operations, (for
there was not a corner or crevice in the whole country with which he was
not familiar), it rendered it no easy task to bring home any charge to
him. And although many were quite conscious that he, and he alone, was the
person who stole their cattle and sheep—still they were afraid to lay such
an action to the credit of this renowned free-booter. However, M’Homais,
the Laird of Applecross, whose sheep now and then were stolen from off his
estate of Highfield, (which was then, and for many years after, the
property of the Applecross family), determined to make a strict and
thorough investigation respecting his stolen property, and Donald’s fame
reaching his ears, it naturally occurred to him that there was none so
likely to harass him as Donald Gruimach; consequently he dispatched twelve
strong able-bodied men to Donald’s bothy on the evening of the day on
which one of his best wedders disappeared. Donald, however, happened to be
about the door, and as the guilty mind is always timorous and apprehensive
of coming evil, he gave a cautious look around his residence, then with
the keen and penetrating glance of the eagle, scanned the face of the
country, where he espied at a distance the men rapidly approaching him. He
saw portending danger in their movements, and there being no time to lose
in conjecture as to the purport of their mission, he instantly entered his
hut, seized the sheep and firmly bound it with thongs,--then laid it in a
large cradle, and covering it over with a piece of blanket, he seated
himself beside it, and appeared tenderly engaged in rocking the supposed
child, humming at the same time, "Baloo, baloo, mo leanaibh"!!
while the men made their entrance at the door. One of them accosted Donald
by asking, "Where is the wedder you have taken to-day from Highfield?" He
answered them quite seriously, and not the least disconcerted, "May I eat
him that’s in the cradle, if I took it." They did not question Donald
further, or examine the contents of the cradle, by which he swore so
fervently, but returned much mortified, without taking either sheep or
Donald; and it may easily be supposed that he was but too happy when he
saw them make their exit, and get so easily out of this uncomfortable
dilemma. But this narrow escape from detection had no effect on Donald,
neither did it prevent his levying contributions on those in the
neighbourhood of his abode, for sometime thereafter he had the hardihood
to take one of Kilcoy’s best oxen from the Mains; but whether it was owing
to his being always so well armed, or that the proof against him was
considered inadequate to ensure a conviction, there was no effort at the
time made to take him into custody—he was, therefore, for some time
suffered to roam undisturbed over the country, committing several other
depredations.
Kilcoy, however, did not
forget the loss of his good ox, but it availed not; he could not fall on
any scheme to entrap the wary thief. After running over in his mind
several stratagems, which were no sooner concocted than dispelled, he at
last thought on the following. Being told that Donald was in the vicinity
of the Castle, he went, out, in order, if possible, to meet or see him,
and was not long in discovering the object of his search. Donald seeing
Kilcoy approach him unaccompanied, stood, for indeed he was so powerful
that he would not show his back to the four strongest men in the country.
Kilcoy told him he had an important letter to send to the Sheriff at
Fortrose, which required urgent attention, and that if he would convey it,
he would get a shilling for his trouble, which in these times, was
considered no bad remuneration for the distance he had to travel. Donald
hesitated, but at last consented to go. Kilcoy then immediately went and
wrote the necessary letter to the Sheriff, the purport of which was, that
the bearer was a most notorious stealer of cattle and sheep, and that it
would be doing the greatest service to the country at large, if he (the
Sheriff,) on receipt would safely secure Donald in jail, as shortly
charges would be brought against him, which would be proved to his
satisfaction; as himself and many of his neighbours around him, suffered
severely from the depredations of this redoubtable cattle-lifter. Donald
could neither read nor write; however, he did not proceed far on his way,
wrapt in meditation, his own circumstances haunting his mind, and probably
contemplating the reckless career of his past life, when he began to
examine and look very minutely into the letter, when lo! he imagined that
in it he discovered the horns of Kilcoy’s brown ox. It then occurred to
him that it was for the purpose of having himself apprehended, and handed
over to the Sheriff, that he was despatched with the letter, which was
meant to have effected this object. He immediately retraced his steps, and
the first person he met was the Laird himself, who, no doubt, was
previously overjoyed at the thought of ridding himself of such a
formidable neighbour as Donald Gruimach. But in this the Laird of Kilcoy
was sadly disappointed, who, addressing Donald, asked him, "How was it
that he returned so soon?" Donald’s mind was not at rest, and he answered
the Laird, "Back! it is no wonder that I am back; did I not see the very
horns of the brown ox in that letter as distinct as possibly could be?"
then, throwing the ominous letter at Kilcoy’s feet, fled with the
swiftness of the roe to his hiding place, in order to elude the search of
any who might be sent in pursuit of him.
Crime may be carried on
unchallenged for a time, but a day of reckoning will come, when justice
will prevail, and so it happened with Donald. He was seized for stealing a
stot from a widow who lived on the estate of Tulloch—Bayne being then the
proprietor, who warmly interested himself in the poor woman’s loss. Donald
was lodged in Dingwall jail, and while he lay there, the widow visited him
daily, furnishing him with the best meat she could procure, in order if
possible, by her kindness, to extract some information from him, by which
she could recover her favourite stot; he always promised to tell her where
the stot was, and thereby kept her in continual suspense. In due time he
was tried and sentenced to be executed. On the day of his execution, and
while he stood on the platform, the poor woman cried out to him, "will you
not tell me now where is my stot?" But he answered, "I have more to
think of at present than you or your stot." While he thus stood he was
anxiously and impatiently looking towards the west, as he expected a
strong party of the clan Fraser to make their appearance and effect a
rescue. They actually left their homes for that purpose, and came the
length of Ord, but having been met there by a number of the Mackenzies as
a deputation from Brahan Castle, the latter reasoned with them on the
necessity and justice of freeing the country of such a notorious
individual as Donald Gruimach, and prevailed on the Frasers to return,
without proceeding farther to rescue him from the scaffold, a doom which
he so justly merited. Donald was never known to commit any encroachment on
the Lovat estates, and it was supposed that it was on this account the
Frasers favoured him so much. One of his most impregnable hiding places
was on the estate of Lovat, in Glenstrathfarar, and it was farther
conjectured that he was a scion of that clan. |
