Robert MacDuff
I guess the best way to make a start at the story of
a life, is to start
with the beginning. I was born Horatio Robert
MacDuff, the second son of
Angus MacDuff. Our family lived in the highlands on
a respectable plot
of land where we raised sheep. My childhood was
fairly normal with the
exception of my mother's death in the winter of my
8th year. The MacDuff's
were prosperous, but not enough to be considered
wealthy. I did receive
a somewhat better education than most average men of
our time, having attended
the University in Edinburgh for two terms.
After that time I returned
to the family holdings to help manage the daily
activities, as my father
Angus was beginning to show signs of senility.
After about two years of a sedentary life on the ranch, I began to feel like I needed to travel a bit. I arranged to take the wool harvest to Bristol in the spring. The trip was uneventful, until after I had sold the wool. I was still near the docks and had stopped into a tavern for a couple of pints to celebrate my good fortune at getting a very good price for the wool. The ale must have been unusually strong in that tavern for I lost track of several hours. I remember sitting on a bench near the fireplace in the tavern, but I woke up on board a ship of the British Navy. It seems that later that evening, a press gang came in to "recruit" new sailors. I apparently was hauled off to the ship. A quick search turned up the fact that I had no money, no identification, and no choice but to accept my new station in life. I was assigned a position as a gunner's mate. After a month, I found that I liked the sea. While I was not fond of the Royal Navy for the way I was pressed into service, I found life aboard ship to be much to my liking. I stayed on that vessel, the HMS Valiant, for about a year and a half, until we were attacked by three Spanish Galleons near the West Indies. We fought them to a man, but the odds were against us and we were overcome. Myself and several others who survived were taken aboard one of the Spanish ships as prisoners. We were kept in the hold, and William, the only survivor who spoke any Spanish, translated that we were to be returned to Spain to stand trial for acts against the Spanish Crown. We protested of course, but to no avail. Three days later, the Galleon I was on was attacked. I had no idea who was attacking, as the hold had no windows, but the sounds of fighting on deck meant that we had been boarded. William and I lead the others out of the hold, and into the middle of the fight. The ship whose men had boarded us flew a red banner of a Jolly Roger. Seeing us coming up out of the hold, and realizing that we weren't reinforcements, weapons were thrust into our hands and we joined the fight against our Spanish captors. Once the Spanish Captain, and First Mate as well as most of the Officers had been set adrift in a lifeboat, I found that our rescuers were Scotsmen like myself. I spoke with Capt. Aramis and Mr. Long, the First Mate and "went on the account" with the crew of the Neptune's Fury. |