Glencoe and the Pinky

In 1689, James Stewart (Catholic) King of Scotland was removed from the throne and fled into exile
with his family. William of Orange (Protestant) had married James Stewart's daughter Mary, and was given the power and the crowns, in both Scotland and England. Many Scots were well opposed to this forced change, in their land and the Jacobite movement to return their 'rightful King" to the throne, got it's start. The loyalties of Scotland now being split by religious belief, also saw battles and grand upheavals, that soon followed.

In the midst of this turmoil, William forced his hand on the Highland Chiefs and demanded that they sign a oath of loyalty to him as their King. This is what eventually led to the Massacre of Glencoe.

It was at this same time, ... that this young Highland man had signed up to be a member of this King's army and the Argyll Regiment. Having a new born son and beautiful wife to support he found himself with little choice in the matter. Work was hard to find and he had little skills, but handling a sword and pistol well, were two he not only possessed, but took pride in. And the pay was a fair amount, that would suit his needs of everyday life.

His first mission with his new found 'work' was to march south with his regiment into the valley of Glencoe.

For the most part he thought that this work would be easy and found no problem in being 'quartered' with the MacIains of Glencoe. They had been very good hosts and each night seemed to bring a round of gambling, drink, good food, stories and songs...not unlike those he'd experience at home with his own kith and kin.

But by the time the end of the first week had come, in their scheduled fortnight (2 weeks) stay, things started to seem a bit strange. There seemed to be some secretive rumblings among the other soldiers that made him a bit suspicious. He tried to shake it off.

Then, in the early hours of Feb. 13th, 1692, his worse fears came to reality.
Orders were read as to the action this regiment was to take on their hosts.
As the others in his regiment moved to take their positions at the homes of the clan members, he went to his superior officer and made an objection to this:

"I can't do this...it goes against everything I was taught as a child... and goes against the code of Highland Hospitality!" he blurted out in his confusion and anger.
(Now in the Highlands of Scotland a code of hospitality was such that if someone came to your door with a death warrant and the host took them in and fed them, and drank with them and showed them the care they would extend to their own...that person could do them no harm.)
The massacre had started and you could hear the shots and screams all around...
this lads commander shouted back at him,
"You will do it! You will go behind the building and dispatch that woman and her young child...and you will come back and show me proof of blood on your sword! Or I will kill you here...where you stand!"

The lad seeing that he once again had little choice, made his way to the croft where the child's cries could be heard.

As he approach he heard the woman quieting the bairn with a Highland lullaby, ...the same lullaby that his wife had sung to their own son the night before he'd left home.
He knew he could not do this treachery. But what was he to do?

He approached the woman and tried to calm her fears. Then said, "I have been sent to kill you and your child, but I can not....I have to show proof of blood on my sword or surely I will be dead before this day is finished. I will make sure that you get safely away, but first I must assure all of our safe escape." Then he pulled his knife, picked up the child's hand and lopped off his pinky.
The mother was screaming the child was wailing, and surely anyone hearing this would think that he was in fact carrying out his orders. He took the finger and squeezed blood onto the sword blade, helped to bind the child's wound and waited there while the woman and child fled for their lives on the route he said for them to take.

He went back to his commander and showed this proof of his act to him.

Many years later this same lad now quite a bit older, was in a Inn Pub having a pint and dram.
The barman had been making small talk with him when he said, "Well you're about the right age and you come from the right region, ...so tell me were you there ...in Glencoe ...during the massacre?"

The lad told his story about what had happened to him on that fateful day.
The barman's face turned white, as he lifted his hand from behind the bar rail and said..."You saved my life and the life of my mum." The barman spread his hand open and there was no pinky finger there. "You sir can have free room and board here at my Inn for the rest of your life!!" And that's where the lad(now man) and his wife spent the rest of their days, at that Inn, where the owner and the sacrifice of his finger had saved all of their lives, from the Massacre of Glencoe.

This story was told to me by an old gentleman in the Highlands of Scotland many years ago. It is a great story of how honour can survive in the darkest time.

The Scots have always tried to share in times of wealth and huddled together in the darkest of times.

Cheers,
Linda