I’m one day late remembering Flora MacDonald, who
died on March 4, 1790, attended by the surgeon who had drawn up her marriage
contract. The Jacobite heroine was buried at Kilmuir Cemetery on the north
coast of Skye, less than two miles from where, in 1746, she had landed while escorting the Bonnie Prince Charlie to safety. That is the adventure for which she is known. But
Flora MacDonald was also a United Empire Loyalist who, during the American Revolution,
once again showed great courage in responding to those who meant her ill. In
1774, she and her husband had emigrated to North Carolina. In a
book I am writing, I pick up the story . . . .  

Early in March 1776, in her newly occupied farmhouse in the
interior of North Carolina, the celebrated Flora MacDonald took to her bed. The
54-year-old immigrant had just learned of the Loyalist defeat at Moore’s Creek
Bridge. Years later, she published an account in which she wrote about herself
in the third person, describing how “Flora” had plunged into misery and sickness
on “being informed that her husband and friends were all killed or taken. [She]
contracted a severe fever and was deeply oppressed with straggling parties of
plunderers from their army, and night robbers, who more than once threatened
her life, wanting a confession where her husband’s money was. Her servants
deserted her, and such as stayed grew so very insolent that they were of no
service or help to her.”

Weeks before, her husband, Allan MacDonald, had departed in
his Highland finery from their home at Cheek Creek (Pekin), leading several
hundred men in what they expected would be a march to the Atlantic Coast, where
they were to meet up with a large army arriving from Ireland in four ships. Her
17-year-old son, James, had escaped after that battle and made it home to tell
her what had happened and to comfort her.

Patriots set a trap

About twenty miles north of Wilmington, in the woods at
Moore’s Creek Bridge, the patriot forces had set a trap. They had removed
planks and greased the timbers that held up the bridge. On February 27, in the
early morning light, eighty sword-wielding Scots had mounted a Highland charge,
only to be cut down by withering fire or else to plunge into the black waters
of the creek.

The Loyalists retreated and scattered, but about 850 were
subsequently arrested. Most of those were released on parole, but the leaders –
among them her husband and 20-year-old son, Alexander, were marched off to
jail. Over the next 18 months, Flora MacDonald reported, with about 30 other
gentlemen, these two “were dragged from goal to goal for 700 miles, till lodged
in Philadelphia Goal, remaining in their hands for 18 months before exchanged.”

But in April 1776, one year after Revolutionary War began
with the Battles of Lexington and Concord, Flora could not foresee how long her
nearest and dearest might be gone. With her son James, she stayed on at the
homestead, though Loyalists were no longer safe from soldiers, civilian
committees, or bands of robbers. When she recovered from the worst of her
fever, Flora felt driven “to visit and comfort the other poor gentlewomen”
whose kinfolk were in prison with her husband, because “they blamed him as
being the author of their misery in raising the Highlanders.”

She set out to ride around the country, visiting Loyalist
families. On one of these outings, she fell off her horse and broke her right
arm, and so was confined to her home for months. She became more vulnerable
than ever.  Thieves made off with books
and family treasures, including an exquisite, four-piece set of silver, which
comprised a tray (with the monogram F McD), a jug, a sauceboat, and a ladle.
These had been given to her, according to an historical society document, “by admiring
friends in London when, as the Prince’s Preserver, she was the centre of
popular interest.” 

Early in 1778, in the dead of winter, Flora escapes to Nova
Scotia and . . .  well, there is a great
deal more than is commonly known to the story of Flora MacDonald. Coming next
year to a bookstore near you.