We went a considerable way further, and landed at Rob Roy’s Caves, which
are in fact no caves, but some fine rocks on the brink of the lake, in
the crevices of which a man might hide himself cunningly enough; the
water is very deep below them, and the hills above steep and covered with
wood. The little Highland woman, who was in size about a match for our
guide at Lanerk, accompanied us hither. There was something very
gracious in the manners of this woman; she could scarcely speak five
English words, yet she gave me, whenever I spoke to her, as many
intelligible smiles as I had needed English words to answer me, and
helped me over the rocks in the most obliging manner. She had left the
boat out of good-will to us, or for her own amusement. She had never
seen these caves before; but no doubt had heard of them, the tales of Rob
Roy’s exploits being told familiarly round the ‘ingles’ hereabouts, for
this neighbourhood was his home. We landed at Inversneyde, the
ferry-house by the waterfall, and were not sorry to part with our
boatman, who was a coarse hard-featured man, and, speaking of the French,
uttered the basest and most cowardly sentiments. His helper, a youth
fresh from the Isle of Skye, was innocent of this fault, and though but a
bad rower, was a far better companion; he could not speak a word of
English, and sang a plaintive Gaelic air in a low tone while he plied his
oar.
The ferry-house stood on the bank a few yards above the landing-place
where the boat lies. It is a small hut under a steep wood, and a few
yards to the right, looking towards the hut, is the waterfall. The fall
is not very high, but the stream is considerable, as we could see by the
large black stones that were lying bare, but the rains, if they had
reached this place, had had little effect upon the waterfall; its noise
was not so great as to form a contrast with the stillness of the bay into
which it falls, where the boat, and house, and waterfall itself seemed
all sheltered and protected. The Highland woman was to go with us the
two first miles of our journey. She led us along a bye foot-path a
shorter way up the hill from the ferry-house. There is a considerable
settling in the hills that border Loch Lomond, at the passage by which we
were to cross to Loch Ketterine; Ben Lomond, terminating near the
ferry-house, is on the same side of the water with it, and about three
miles above Tarbet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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