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Updated: June 4, 2025


The British Grenadiers charged at this critical moment. The Highlanders rushing forward, with the claymore, hewed down every opponent, and the fate of the battle was no longer doubtful the French retreated. Wolfe had just been carried to the rear, mortally wounded in the groin.

There was also a superb claymore, in an elaborately wrought silver sheath, made for Sir Walter Scott, and presented to him by the Highland Society, for his services in marshalling the clans when George IV. came to Scotland.

Unsatisfied with the advantage thus gained, Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the approach of danger seemed to restore all its elasticity, drawing his sword and calling out 'Claymore! encouraged his men, by voice and example, to break through the hedge which divided them and rush down upon the enemy.

Still Lord Claymore hoped the contrary, and, perhaps, his anxiety was not a little increased by the satisfaction he anticipated in ousting the rascally old marquis from his estates and rank. The coast of Spain was soon after made, and the active operations in which the ship was engaged allowed the captain or Morton very little time to think of that or any other subject.

In about seven minutes more the agony was done; "English falling on with the bayonet, Highlanders with the claymore;" fierce pursuit, rout total: and Quebec and Canada as good as finished. Truly a bit of right soldierhood, this Wolfe.

Collecting all his strength, he beat aside one of Macpherson's furious blows, and bounding upon him as a crouching tiger springs upon his prey, he wrenched his claymore from his hand, dashed him to the earth with the mere violence of the assault; wielding a weapon in either hand, he struck to the ground two of the opposing clansmen, plunged into the thickets as a mountain stag bursts through his covert when the opening pack is near, and disappeared in an instant among the crashing and closing boughs of the underwood.

Morton felt as if he should be shaken off the yard, but a hand with a firm grasp held him, nor let him go till he had reached the top. They descended on deck. "Thank you, Lord Claymore," said Morton, warmly; "had you not held me I might have lost my life."

A supply of scaling ladders had been prepared and brought on shore, and Lord Claymore had taken good care that they should be long enough. The seamen carried them, and rushed on, following Ronald and his father. Rolf kept up with the activity of a younger man. On they went; they soon distanced the Spaniards. The outworks had been secured. Through them they dashed.

"Agreed," they said. "I choose pistols," said Burlington. "I," said Escrick, "the ancient combat of the lists, with the mace and the dagger." "I," said Holderness, "the duel with two knives, long and short, stripped to the waist, and breast to breast." "Lord David," said the Earl of Thanet, "you are a Scot. I choose the claymore." "I the sword," said Rockingham.

A dogged look has replaced the callous and indifferent sneer on the prisoner's face, and sympathy, if sympathy there is, is centred entirely upon the wife, the able, agreeable and bitterly humiliated landlady of Claymore Tavern. She it is who has attracted the most attention during this trial, little as she seems to court it." "Only one new detail of evidence was laid before the jury to-day.

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