In the meantime, Dundee was making his own dispositions for the coming fight. Acting under the advice of Lochiel, who knew the spirit of emulation by which the several clans were animated, he drew them up in such a way that each of them should have a regiment in Mackay’s line assigned to it The Macleans, under their youthful chief, were posted on the extreme right. The Irish contingent, commanded by Colonel Pearson occupied the next position, and had the Tutor of Clanranald with his battalion on their immediate left. A fourth battalion, composed of the men whom the stalwart Glengarry led to battle, made up the right wing. The left consisted of two others, of which Lochiel’s was one, and Sir Donald Macdonald’s the other. The only cavalry at Dundee’s disposal consisted of a few Lowland gentlemen and some remains of his old troop, not exceeding forty horse in all, and these ‘very lean and ill-kept.’ It was posted in the centre, to face Mackay’s hundred sabres. It should have been under the orders of the Earl of Dunfermline; but that very morning, Sir William Wallace, a gentleman who had come over from Ireland, produced a commission which appointed him to the command hitherto held by the Earl. Though deeply mortified Dunfermline had submitted without demur to the unjust and ill-advised supersession, for which Melfort, Wallace’s brother-in-law, was probably responsible. His loyalty to the cause which he served prevented him from raising a dispute at so critical a time.
For two hours the armies stood facing each other, within musket-shot, without engaging, though some desultory skirmishing appears to have been going on towards the left, between some Macleans and the regiment opposed to them, whilst the guns in Mackay’s centre kept up an intermittent and harmless fire. During this long pause before the battle both leaders addressed their troop. In spite of his superiority in numbers, Mackay did not hide from his men that the task before them was no easy one. In encouraging them to it, he pointed out that, in such a place and with such foemen, they could not hope for safety in flight, but must win it for themselves by the defeat of the enemy. His words were greeted with a cheer, which to Lochiel who heard it, seemed wanting in enthusiasm, and from which he drew for his own followers an omen of victory.
In Dundee’s allocution there was a spirited appeal to the loyalty and patriotism of the clansmen. He urged them to behave like true Scotsmen, in defence of their King, their Religion, and their Country. He asked nothing of them but what they should see him do before them. For those who fell, there would be the comfort and the honour of having died in the performance of their duty, and as became true men of valour and of conscience; and to those who lived and won the battle, he promised a reward of a gracious King, and the praise of all good men.
It was not till eight o’clock on that summer evening that Dundee gave orders for the advance of his two thousand men. Casting off brogues and plaids the clansmen moved forward down the slope. They were met with a heavy fire, which grew more terrible as they approached the treble line of their opponents. But with wonderful resolution they obeyed the orders given them, and reserved their own till they came to within a few yards of the enemy. Then they poured it in upon them ‘like one great clap of thunder,’ and, throwing away their muskets, fell upon the infantry with their claymores before it had time to fix bayonets to receive them. ‘After that,’ in the words of Lochiel’s ‘Memoirs,’ ‘the noise seemed hushed; and the firing ceasing on both sides, nothing was heard for some few moments but the sullen and hollow clashes of the broadswords, with the dismal groans and cries of dying and wounded men.’
Dundee, who had joined his small body of horse, ordered Wallace to attack the troopers whilst the clans were scattering the infantry, and himself rode forward to take part in the charge. But Sir William, the nominal commander, ‘not being too forward,’ Dundee would have met with no support if the Earl of Dunfermline, taking in the situation at a glance, had not dashed forward, with some sixteen volunteers who left the laggard ranks. Mackay’s troopers did not stop to receive the shock of this handful of men, but joined the infantry in their flight. Nor did the gunners make a better stand; and their clumsy ordnance was captured before Wallace came up. Then Dundee, wheeling to the enemy’s right, charged Mackay’s own regiment, which, after delivering a last volley, turned and fled like the rest, in spite of the General’s efforts to rally it.
Pausing for a moment to look round the field, the victorious leader perceived that Sir Donald Macdonald’s battalion, ‘which had not shown so great resolution as the rest of the Highlanders,’ was hesitating in its attack upon Hastings’s regiment. He was on his way to urge it forward, when a shot struck him in the side and inflicted a mortal wound. He reeled in the saddle, and was falling from his horse; but one of his officers, named Johnstone, was at hand to catch him in his arms and to help him to the ground. As he lay there, the dying leader asked how the day went. ‘The day goes well for the King,’ replied Johnstone, ‘but I am sorry for your Lordship.’ But Dundee felt the comfort which he had so shortly before promised those who should fall; ‘it is the less matter for me,’ he said, ‘seeing the day goes well for my master.’
Besides Dundee himself, there lay on the fateful field some nine hundred men of his little army of hardly more than two thousand. Whether he died on the scene of his dearly-bought victory, or whether he was removed from it and survived long enough to dictate the letter which his Jacobite admirers have regarded as a last tribute of loyalty to his King, and his Whig opponents denounced as an unscrupulous forgery, are questions upon which too little depends to justify a discussion of them. He was buried at Blair.