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 The Tales MacWilliam ...
 The Night of Merriment, 1758 - part 1
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Author Previous Topic: More Chronicles....maybe.....!! Topic Next Topic: Sittin and Thinkin  

Many Flags
Colonial Settler


Bumppo's Patron since [at least]:
August 13 2002

Status: offline


Posted - July 22 2004 :  1:03:52 PM  Show Profile  Reply with Quote
So, Malcolm and I have conferred and we have been remembering a time back in the autumn of 1758. Now, if you folks have the Chronicles you can refresh your memories by looking at Chronicles II right around the end of August and beginning of September.
This was after Ft. Carillon had been defended by the French, when brother Tales and myself and Seamus headed back to rejoin the 77th on their march to the Loyalhanna to build what is now called Fort Ligonier. Once we got back we didn’t have much time to do our visiting with Malcolm (who was then a Corporal) and Davey and JohnsTon and Silas Campbell and all the rest of the Highland lads; only one evening when all of us could be together again after weeks of our own adventures. Interestingly enough, some things happened that evening which have never been told before.....ahhhh, here comes the story!!

All the lads settled down that evening, round a small fire, to be used for light only and to keep away the black flies and other little pesties which the Creator seems to send to bother us and make us remember who is really in control. Several bottles were being passed around as Many Flags and Seamus related the terrible doings at Carillon and the aftermath. Three Tales sat silently, not wishing to remember the carnage and sad wanderings which he and Flags had been put through. When the tales were through, Jamie Campbell quietly spoke, “I believe we need some cheerin’ up, friends.....”, and he broke into a slow song version of Whiskey in the Jar which quickly drew in all the lads on the chorus and by the second verse, smiles and laughter whipped away the previous lamentable conditions and some more bottles were produced (thanks to Captain Croy who walked up to join the ever growing circle). In fact, if the lads would not have been so liquor eyed within the first hour of singing and frolic, they would have noticed a kilted man with large whomping stick, and a mass of glinty, sheepy eyes ever watchful from the surrounding woods!
As the song ended and another one began, Malcolm, being in his cups and still being a Corporal, still having a sense of humour (for being a 1st Sjt. can take the humour away with all the responsibilities), thought of a story which he had heard once about his Uncle Angus (who, unbeknownst to Malcolm, was only a few feet away from him, quietly watching and listening with his army of woolies). As the second song ended and the bottleS went around AGAIN....our once Corporal MacWilliam, Malcolm by Christian name, quips, “Did you ever hear the story about our Uncle Angus when he was captured by the Butcher of Cumberland?”
A few murmurs were heard (from those who were now leaning a bit toward the English and stayed away from the remembrance of Scots' history, especially the time of the ‘45), and, if Malcolm would have had his ear turned toward the woods, a bit of a grunt issued forth, and Davey began to laugh a bit, because he knew the tale.
“Well, me lads, the story goes like this. You see, our Uncle Angus, an Irishman, and a Frenchman who was fighting on the Jacobite side were all captured by the Butcher....this was before the debacle at Drohmossie, you know. The Butcher tells them that they are to each receive 50 lashes, but to ease the pain, they may wear anything they wish on their backs. So, the Irishman comes forward first and he hands the drummer* who is to give the lashes, a cowhide dyed green and he says, “I wish to have this on me back. You see, ‘tis an Irish cowhide which I’ve colored the emerald green of me own homeland and ‘twas blessed by the parish priest in County Armagh.”
So, the hide is laid on the Irishman’s back and the drummer goes at it, flailing him with the “cat” a total of the 50 lashes. And when he is finished, the Irishman walks away with only a few red stripes, for the blessed hide had protected him. So, next up walks the Frenchman. The Butcher asks him what he will have on his back for protection and the Frenc
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