Found - Guns of the NANCY: Schooner Days MCCLVI (1256)

by C. H. J. Snider

THE LADY OF MOY rode at the head of 300 fighting men to the standard Prince Charles Edward unfurled in The Forty-five. They fought well at Culloden, for a great granite boulder scored with twelve letters, M-A-C-K-I-N-T-O-S-H, surmounts the largest of the clan grave mounds which there mark Butcher Cumberland's magnanimity.

Dark eyed, cherry lipped, with provocative chin, "Lady Anne,"wife of the 22nd chief of the clan-she was Anne Farquharson of Invercauld before she wedded - looked out from the golden casement of her picture frame as Schooner Days lunched with The 29th Mackintosh of Mackintosh at Moy Hall last summer.

Another gilt-framed onlooker was a massive plaided figure in the clan tartan, red, barred with green and blue, with silver mounted dirk, pistol, sporran, snuff mull and all the appurtenances of chiefship.

His high forehead, steady dark eyes, big nose, stiff upper lip, firm mouth not without humor, and the crease under his strong chin, proclaimed "a Mackintosh to the backbone." His wrists and hands were big and strong for heaving on a hawser. If only one man in a thousand could wear side whiskers impressively, he was that 1,000th man. The poise of his head suggested the Highlands of Scarboro.

"Out of my latitude," said The Mackintosh, when Schooner Days made the comparison. The present Chief or Captain of the Clan is a vice-admiral in the Royal Navy, with distinguished service in both wars - on the oceans of the world - but not on Lake Ontario. "That is Alexander, the 26th Chief of Mackintosh and 27th Chief of Clan Chattan," he added.

"An Alexander Mackintosh was sailing master of the armed schooner Nancy on our lakes in the war of 1812," Schooner Days ventured.

"The same man," said The Mackintosh casually. "He was born at Detroit, when it was in British possession. When he came to Scotland to succeed his father as chief, he sent back for two of the schooner's guns which he had left at Moy House in Canada. The guns are outside on the terrace."

THE GUNS IN SIGHT!

Had the admiral detonated a depth charge under the table Schooner Days. could not have been more excited.

Alexander Mackintosh, sailing master of the Nancy, to have been born in Detroit, in the old Province of Canada, - and become chief of two Highland clans, and brought home the guns of his heroic ship - and those guns to be Mow within biscuit toss! All was wildly exciting news.

Forty-four years before this we had found all the burned hull of the long-lost Nancy under the water lillies in the Nottawasaga river. With the late Mayor Conboy's great assistance we had succeeded in getting the remains enshrined on Nancy Island at Wasaga Beach. We had studied every scrap we could find about her and her gallant fur-trader captain. We had found fragments of his war log for 1813-14; but never guessed this.

To learn that her young Canadian sailing master had become doubly "chief of his name and nation" as the Irish put it, and to realize that he was now looking our of his century-old frame past us, to the very guns with which he had saved his ship and her gunpowder cargo and her crew of nine for the King's service was staggering.

The Mackintosh, a sailor himself, sympathized. Out to the terrace we streamed.

UNDER CHIEF'S BANNER

It was a long broad 18th century carriage way raised above a spacious lawn, defended by a chest-high parapet of stone, carved and machicolated. Green above grey on the coping, there lay two brazen cannon, as much at home in their setting as though they were original ornaments, carved from malachite.

High above them on the flag-staff of the square tower of the castle, the banner of the Chief, with its red lion and red heart-in-hand, and silver boar's head and blue galley with furled sails, proclaimed The Macintosh in residence, home again after ranging round the world.

Indeed it was very appropriate for the occasion. Not only had Alexander come home from America with his victorious guns so long ago, but this very morning young Lieutenant Lachlan Mackintosh of Mackintosh Yr. R. N. had flown home from Singapore, to stand behind his mother's plate at table with old-time courtesy.

"Stick to your guns!" The Admiral, 29th chief, and the sailing master, 26th, might roar so in chorus.

We will. Next week. We can't go on just now for thinking of our shipmate John Henderson, RCYC. He was killed at work last week soon after we had been bowling with him on the alleys.

Though much younger he was such courteous shipmate and playmate. Ten years ago he and his brother Paul were boys in the junior club and we used to have them out on Wednesdays in the Kingarvie for training. Last year both were champion dinghy sailors, showing brilliantly in local, national and international racing. John was chairman of our winter five-pin bowling league - an intrepid racing skipper, a keen and modest team captain, clean of heart and speech. So young, so full of joy, so generous! Excuse these personalities. God help us to carry on as cleanly and as bravely as young John.