A fresh army could replace
Mackay's broken battalions; but no one could replace Dundee, and Dundee
was dead.
He had ridden at the head of his cavalry straight on Mackay's centre.
But for some unexplained reason his troopers had not followed him close;
whether their new captain did not like the guns, or had misunderstood
his orders, is not clear. Dunfermline, seeing his general's plumed hat
waving above the smoke, had spurred out of the ranks with sixteen
gentlemen, and with these sabres the guns were taken and silenced.
Dundee, seeing that all went well on the right wing, turned to the left
where the Macdonalds were wavering before the firmer front of Hastings'
Englishmen. As he galloped across the field to bring them to the
charge, a shot struck him in the right side immediately below his
breastplate. For a few strides further he clung swaying to his saddle,
and then sank from his horse into the arms of a soldier named Johnstone.
Like Wolfe on the heights of Abraham, he asked how the day went. "Well
for the King," said the man, "but I am sorry for your Lordship." And
like Wolfe, Dundee answered, "It is the less matter for me, seeing the
day goes well for my master." As his officers returned from the pursuit
they found him on the field, and it is said, though one would be glad to
disbelieve it, stripped by the very men whom he had led to victory.
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