esty is proverbial; their activity and civility
almost incredible to English notions. Bourke was not, as his name seemed
to imply, an Irishman; but a native of North Uist. He had been a servant
to Mr. Alexander Macleod, one of Charles Edward's aides-de-camp; and
was the man who had led the Prince off the field of battle, and guided
him all the way to Boradale: for Ned Bourke knew Scotland, and indeed a
great portion of England, well, having been servant to several
gentlemen. In this, his most important service, the honest man did not
disgrace his ancient and honourable calling as a chairman. "Excellent
things" were spoken of him to Donald Macleod, who seems to have made
some demur as to his Irish name, and to have objected to taking him on
board.

Thus guided, and thus guarded, Charles Edward might fear the winds and
waves; but treachery was not to be dreaded. Not far had the men rowed
before a violent storm arose; such as even Donald had not, from his own
account, ever been "trysted with before," though he had all his life
been a seafaring man. The Prince was now as impatient to return to the
land as he had been to quit it; "for," he said, "I would rather face
cannons and muskets than be in such a storm as this!" But Donald was
firm in proceeding on the voyage: "Since we are here," he replied, "we
have nothing for it, but, under God, to set out to sea directly." He
refused to steer for the rock, which runs three miles along the side of
the loch; observing, "Is it not as good for us to be drowned in clear
water, as to be dashed to pieces on a rock, and drowned also?"

A solemn silence followed this decisive reply. Every one expected
instant destruction. The night was pitch-dark; and there was no light in
the boat. They dreaded being landed on some part of the island of Skye,
where the militia were in arms to prevent the Prince's escape. But, to
use the words of the pilot, "As God would have it," that danger was not
encountered. By daybreak the party discovered that they were close to
Rushness, in the island of Benbecula, having run according to the
pilot's account, thirty-two leagues in eight hours. During this perilous
voyage the spirits of Charles never sank; he encouraged every one around
him, working himself at the oars: "he was," says Mr. Maxwell, "the only
one that seemed void of concern."

Such were the circumstances under which Charles Edward landed in the
Long Island;--the event which brought him into communi