John Splendid: The Tale of a Poor Gentleman, and the Little Wars of Lorn

by Neil Munro

  CHAPTER XXVI.--TRAPPED.

  I caught M'Iver by the coat-lapels, and took him off the gasping cleric.

  "Oh man!" I cried, "is this the Highland brigadier to be throttling anold soldier of Christ?"

  "Let me get at him and I'll set him in the way of putting the last truthof his trade to its only test," said he, still with a face corp-white,tugging at my hold and eyeing Master Gordon with a very uplifted andferocious demeanour.

  I suppose he must, in the midst of his fury, have got just a glisk ofthe true thing before him--not a worthy and fair opponent for a man ofhis own years, but an old wearied man of peace, with a flabby neck,and his countenance blotched, and his wig ajee upon his head so thatit showed the bald pate below, for he came to himself as it were with astart. Then he was ashamed most bitterly. He hung his head and scrapedwith an unconscious foot upon the floor. The minister recovered hiswind, looked with contempt in every line at the man who had abused him,and sat down without a word before the fire.

  "I'm sorry about this," said M'Iver, fumbling about his waist-belt withnervous ringers; "I'm sorry about this, Master Gordon. A Highlandercannot be aye keeping God's gift of a temper in leash, and yet it's mydisgrace to have laid a hand on a gentleman of your age and calling,even for the name of my chief. Will you credit me when I say I was blindto my own act? Something in me rose uncontrollable, and had you beenHector in armour, or my grandfather from the grave, I was at your neck."

  "Say no more about it," answered Gordon. "I have seen the wolf so oftenat the Highlander's heart that I need not be wondering to find himsnarling and clawing now. And still--from a gentleman--and a person oftravel----"

  "Say away, sir," said M'Iver, bitterly; "you have the whole plea withyou this time, and I'm a rogue of the blackest I can say no more thanI'm sorry for a most dirty action."

  Gordon looked at him, and seemed convinced that here was a genuineremorse; at least his mien softened and he said quietly, "You'll hear nomore of it from me."

  We were standing, M'Iver and I, in front of the hearth, warming to thepeat glow, and the cleric sat in an oak arm-chair. Out in the vacantnight the rain still pattered and the gale cried. And all at once, abovethe sound of wind and water, there came a wild rapping at the main doorof the house, the alarum of a very crouse and angry traveller findinga hostel barred against him at unseasonable hours. A whole childhoodof fairy tale rose to my mind in a second; but the plain truth followedwith more conviction, that likely here was no witch, warlock, nor fairy,but some one with a better right to the tenancy of Dal-ness than sevenbroken men with nor let nor tack. We were speedily together, the sevenof us, and gathered in the hall, and listening with mouths open andhearts dunting, to the rapping that had no sign of ceasing.

  "I'll have a vizzy from an upper window of who this may be," said John,sticking a piece of pine in the fire till it flared at the end, andhurrying with it thus lighted up the stair. I followed at his heels,while the rest remained below ready to give whatever reception was mostdesirable to the disturbers of our night's repose. The window we wentto looked out on the most utter blackness, a blackness that seemed tostream in at the window as we swung it softly back on its hinge. M'Iverput oat his head and his torch, giving a warder's keek at the door belowwhere the knocking continued. He drew in his head quickly and looked atme with astonishment.

  "It's a woman," said he. "I never saw a campaign where so manypetticoats of one kind or another were going. Who, in God's name, canthis one be, and what's her errand to Dalness at this hour? One of itsregular occupants would scarcely make such to-do about her summons."

  "The quickest answer could be got by asking her," I said.

  "And about a feint?" he said, musing. "Well, we can but test it."

  We went down and reported to our companions, and Gordon was for openingthe door on the moment "A wanderer like ourselves," said he, "perhapsa widow of our own making from Glencoe. In any case a woman, and out inthe storm."

  We stood round the doors while M'Iver put back the bars and opened asmuch as would give entry to one person at a time. There was a loud cry,and in came the Dark Dame, a very spectacle of sorrow! Her torn garmentsclung sodden to her skin, her hair hung stringy at her neck, theelements had chilled and drowned the frenzied gleaming of her eyes. Andthere she stood in the doorway among us, poor woman, poor wretch, with aframe shaking to her tearless sobs!

  "You have no time to lose," she said to our query, "a score of Glencoemen are at my back. They fancy they'll have you here in the trapthis house's owner left you. Are you not the fools to be advantagingyourselves of comforts you might be sure no fairy left for Campbellsin Dalness? You may have done poorly at Inverlochy--though I hear theLowlanders and not you were the poltroons--but blood is thicker thanwater, and have we not the same hills beside our doors at home, and Ihave run many miles to warn you that MacDonald is on his way." She toldher story with sense and straightness, her frenzy subdued by the day'srigour. Our flight from her cries, she said, had left her a feelingof lonely helplessness; she found, as she sped, her heart truer to thetartan of her name than her anger had let her fancy, and so she followedus round Loch Leven-head, and over the hills to Glencoe. At the blindwoman's house in the morning, where she passed readily enough for anatural, she learned that the eldest son in the bed had set about wordof our presence before we were long out of his mother's door. The men wehad seen going down in the airt of Tynree were the lad's gathering, andthey would have lost us but for the beetle-browed rogue, who, guessingour route through the hills to Dalness, had run before them, and,unhampered by arms or years, had reached the house of Dalness a littlebefore we came out of our journey in swamp and corry. A sharp blade,certes! he had seen that unless something brought us to pause a whileat Dalness we would be out of the reach of his friends before they hadgained large enough numbers and made up on him. So he had planned withthe few folk in the house to leave it temptingly open in our way, withthe shrewd guess that starved and wearied men would be found sleepingbeside the fire when the MacDonalds came round the gusset. All this theDame Dubh heard and realised even in her half frenzy as she spent sometime in the company of the marching MacDonalds, who never dreamt thather madness and her denunciations of Clan Diarmaid were mixed in somedegree with a natural interest in the welfare of every member of thatclan.

  M'Iver scrutinised the woman sharply, to assure himself there was nocunning effort of a mad woman to pay off the score her evil tongue ofthe day before revealed she had been reckoning; but he saw only heredementia gone to a great degree, a friend anxious for our welfare--soanxious, indeed, that the food Master Gordon was pressing upon her madeno appeal to her famishing body.

  "You come wonderfully close on my Frankfort story," said M'Iver,whimsically. "I only hope we may win out of Dalness as snugly as we wonout of the castle of the cousin of Pomerania."

  For a minute or two we debated on our tactics. We had no muskets, thoughswords were rife enough in Dalness, so a stand and a defence by weaponswas out of the question. M'Iver struck on a more pleasing and cleanlyplan. It was to give the MacDonalds tit for tat, and decoy them into thehouse as their friends had decoyed us into it, and leave them there indurance while we went on our own ways.

  We jammed down the iron pins of the shutters in the salmanger, sothat any exit or entrance by this way was made a task of the greatestdifficulty; then we lit the upper flats, to give the notion that we werelying there. M'Iver took his place behind a door that led from the hallto other parts of the house, and was indeed the only way there, whilethe rest of us went out into the night and concealed ourselves in thedark angle made by a turret and gable--a place where we could see,without being seen, any person seeking entry to the house.

  All the paths about the mansion were strewn with rough sand or gravelfrom the river, and the rain, in slanting spears, played hiss upon themwith a sound I never hear to-day but my mind's again in old Dalness. Andin the dark, vague with rain and mist, the upper windows shone blear andghostly, dull vapours from a swamp, corp-c
andles on the sea, more thanthe eyes of a habitable dwelling warm and lit within. We stood, theseven of us, against the gable (for the woman joined us and munched adry crust between the chittering of her teeth), waiting the coming ofthe MacDonalds.

  I got to my musing again, puzzled in this cold adventure, upon themystery of life. I thought it must be a dream such as a man has lying instrange beds, for my spirit floated and cried upon that black and uglyair, lost and seeking as the soul of a man struggling under sleep. I hadbeen there before, I felt, in just such piteous case among friends inthe gable of a dwelling, yet all alone, waiting for visitors I had nowelcome for. And then again ( I would think), is not all life a dream,the sun and night of it, the seasons, the faces of friends, the flickerof fires and the nip of wine; and am not I now stark awake for the firsttime, the creature of God, alone in His world before the dusk has beendivided from the day and bird and beast have been let loose to wanderabout a new universe? Or again (I would think), am I not dead and donewith? Surely I fell in some battle away in Low Germanie, or later in thesack of Inneraora town, that was a town long, long ago, before the wavethreshed in upon Dunchuach?

  The man with the want, as usual, was at his tears, whispering to himselfreproach and memory and omens of fear, but he was alert enough to be thefirst to observe the approach of our enemy. Ten minutes at least beforethey appeared on the sward, lit by the lights of the upper windows, helifted a hand, cocked an ear, and told us he heard their footsteps.

  There were about a score and a half of the Mac-Donalds altogether, ofvarious ages, some of them old gutchers that had been better advised tobe at home snug by the fire in such a night or saying their prayers inpreparation for the looming grave, some of them young and strapping, allwell enough armed with everything but musketry, and guided to the houseby the blind woman's son and a gentleman in a laced coat, whom we tookto be the owner of Dalness because two men of the bearing and style ofservants were in his train and very pretentious about his safety in thecourse of a debate that took place a few yards from us as to whetherthey should demand our surrender or attack and cut us down with-outquarter.

  The gentleman sent his two lackeys round the house, and they came backreporting (what we had been very careful of) that every door was barred.

  "Then," said the gentleman, "well try a bland knock, and if need be,force the main door."

  He was standing now in a half dusk, clear of the light of the windows,with a foot on the step of the door; behind him gathered the MacDonaldswith their weapons ready, and I dare say, could we have seen it, withno very pretty look on their faces. As he spoke, he put his hand on thehasp, and, to his surprise, the heavy door was open. We had taken goodcare of that too.

  The band gathered themselves together and dived into the place, andthe plaiding of the last of them had scarcely got inside the door thanStewart ran up with the key and turned the lock, with a low whistle forthe guidance of M'Iver at the inner door. In a minute or less, John wasround in our midst again with his share of the contract done, and ourrats were squealing in their trap.

  For a little there was nothing but crying and cursing, wild beatingagainst the door, vain attack on the windows, a fury so futile that itwas sweet to us outsiders, and we forgot the storm and the hardship.

  At last M'Iver rapped on the door and demanded attention.

  "Is there any one there with the English?" he asked.

  The gentleman of Dalness answered that he could speak English with thebest cateran ever came out of MacCailein Mor's country, and he calledfor instant release, with a menace added that Hell itself could notexcel the punishment for us if they were kept much longer under lock andbar. "We are but an advanced guard," said he, with a happy thought atlying, "and our friends will be at your back before long."

  M'Iver laughed pawkily.

  "Come, come, Dalness," said he, "do you take us for girls? You haveevery man left in Glencoe at your back there; you're as much ours as ifyou were in the tolbooth of Inneraora O; and I would just be mentioningthat if I were in your place I would be speaking very soft andsoothing."

  "I'll argue the thing fairly with you if you let us out," said Dalness,stifling his anger behind the door, but still with the full force of itapparent in the stress of his accent.

  M'Iver laughed again.

  "You have a far better chance where you are," said he. "You are verysnug and warm there; the keg of brandy's on the left-hand side of thefire, though I'm afraid there's not very much left of it now that myfriend of Achnatra here has had his will of it. Tell those gentry withyou that we intend to make ourselves cosy in other parts of the housetill the morn's morning, and that if they attempt to force a way out bydoor or window before we let them, we'll have sentinels to blow outthe little brains they have. I'm putting it to you in the English,Dalness--and I cry pardon for making my first gossip with a Highlandgentleman in such a tongue--but I want you to put my message in asplausible a way as suits you best to the lads and _bodachs_ with you."

  The man drew away from the neighbourhood of the door; there was a longsilence, and we concluded they were holding parley of war as to what wasnext to be done. Meantime we made preparations to be moving from aplace that was neither safe nor homely. We took food from the pantries,scourged Stewart from a press he was prying in with clawing fingersand bulging pockets, and had just got together again at the rear of thehouse when a cry at the front told us that our enemies, in some way wenever learned the manner of, had got the better of our bolted doors andshutters.

  Perhaps a chance of planning our next step would have been in ourfavour; perhaps on the other hand it would have been the worse for us,because in human folly we might have determined on staying to facethe odds against us, but there was no time for balancing the chances;whatever was to be done was to be done quickly.

  "Royal's my race!" cried Stewart, dropping a pillowslip full of goods hecarried with him--"Royal's my race--and here's one with great respectfor keeping up the name of it" And he leaped to a thicket on his left.The man with the want ran weeping up to the Dark Dame and clung toher torn gown, a very child in the stupor of his grief and fear. Thebaron-bailie and Sonachan and the minister stood spellbound, and Icursed our folly at the weakness of our trap. Only M'Iver kept his witsabout him.

  "Scatter," said he in English--"scatter without adieus, and all to thefore by morning search back to the Brig of Urchy, comrades there tillthe middle of the day, then the devil take the hindmost."

  More than a dozen MacDonalds came running round the gable end, litby the upper windows, and we dispersed like chaff to the wind beforeM'Iver's speech concluded. He and I ran for a time together, among thebushes of the garden, through the curly kail, under low young firs thatclutched at the clothing. Behind us the night rang with pursuing cries,with challenge and call, a stupid clamour that gave a clue to thetrack we could follow with greatest safety. M'Iver seemingly stopped tolisten, or made up his mind to deviate to the side after a little; for Isoon found myself running alone, and two or three men--to judge by theircries--keeping as close on me as they could by the sound of my plungingamong twig and bracken. At last, by striking to an angle down a fieldthat suddenly rolled down beside me, I found soft carpeting for my feet,and put an increasing distance between us. With no relaxation to mystep, however, I kept running till I seemed a good way clear of Dalnesspolicies, and on a bridle-path that led up the glen--the very road, as Ilearned later, that our enemy had taken on their way from Tynree. I kepton it for a little as well as I could, but the night was so dark (andstill the rain was pouring though the wind had lowered) that by-and-byI lost the path, and landed upon rough water-broken rocky land, bare oftree or bush. The tumult behind me was long since stilled in distance,the storm itself had abated, and I had traversed for less than an hourwhen the rain ceased But still the night was solemn black, though myeyes by usage had grown apt and accustomed to separate the dense blackof the boulder from the drab air around it. The country is one threadedon every hand by eas and brook that drop down the mounta
in sides atalmost every yard of the way. Nothing was to hear but the sound ofrunning and falling waters, every brook with its own note, a tinkleof gold on a marble stair as I came to it, declining to a murmur ofsweethearts in a bower as I put its banks behind me after wading orleaping; or a song sung in a clear spring morning by a girl amongheather hills muffling behind me to the blackguard discourse of bandittywaiting with poignards out upon a lonely highway.

  I was lost somewhere north of Glen Etive; near me I knew must be Tynrce,for I had been walking for two hours and yet I dare not venture back onthe straight route to to-morrow's rendezvous till something of daylightgave me guidance At last I concluded that the way through the BlackMount country to Bredalbane must be so dote at hand it would bestupidity of the densest to go back by Dalness. There was so much levelland round me that I felt sure I must be rounding the Bredalbane hills,and I chanced a plunge to the left. I had not taken twenty steps when Iran up against the dry-stone dyke that bordered the Inns of Tynrec.