They meet, they close in deadly strife,
    But brief the bloody fray;
  Before the Campbells’ furious charge
    The Caithness ranks give way.

  The shrieking mother wrung her hands,
    The maiden tore her hair,
  And all was lamentation loud,
    And terror, and despair.

It was commonly said that the well-known quicksteps, “The Campbells are coming” and the “Braes of Glenorchy” obtained their names from this raid.

The Sinclairs of Keiss were a powerful and warlike family, and they soon regained their position.  It was a pleasing contrast to note that in 1765 Sir William Sinclair of Keiss had laid aside his sword, embracing the views held by the Baptists, and after being baptized in London became the founder of that denomination in Caithness and a well-known preacher and writer of hymns.

In his younger days he was in the army, where he earned fame as an expert swordsman, his fame in that respect spreading throughout the countryside.  Years after he had retired from the service, while sitting in his study one forenoon intently perusing a religious work, his valet announced the arrival of a stranger who wished to see him.  The servant was ordered to show him into the apartment, and in stalked a strong muscular-looking man with a formidable Andrea Ferrara sword hanging by his side, and, making a low obeisance, he thus addressed the knight: 

“Sir William, I hope you will pardon my intrusion.  I am a native of England and a professional swordsman.  In the course of my travels through Scotland, I have not yet met with a gentleman able to cope with me in the noble science of swordsmanship.  Since I came to Caithness I have heard that you are an adept with my favourite weapon, and I have called to see if you would do me the honour to exchange a few passes with me just in the way of testing our respective abilities.”

Sir William was both amused and astonished at this extraordinary request, and replied that he had long ago thrown aside the sword, and, except in case of necessity, never intended to use it any more.  But the stranger would take no denial, and earnestly insisted that he would favour him with a proof of his skill.

“Very well,” said Sir William, “to please you I shall do so,” and, rising and fetching his sword, he desired the stranger, who was an ugly-looking fellow, to draw and defend himself.  After a pass or two Sir William, with a dexterous stroke, cut off a button from the vest of his opponent.

“Will that satisfy you,” inquired Sir William; “or shall I go a little deeper and draw blood?”

“Oh, I am perfectly satisfied,” said the other.  “I find I have for once met a gentleman who knows how to handle his sword.”