by John Galt
CHAPTER LXVI
After leaving Ringlewood, the two fugitives, by divers journeyings andsore passages through moss and moor, crossed the Balloch ferry, andcoming down the north side of the Clyde frith to Ardmore, they boatedacross to Greenock, where, in little more than an hour after theirarrival, they were taken in Euphan Blair's public in Cartsdyke, and thesame night marched off to Glasgow; of all which I have already givenintimation in recording my own trials at Inverkip.
But in that march, as my brother and Esau Wardrop were passing withtheir guard at the Inchinnan ferry, the soldiers heedlessly laying theirfirelocks all in a heap in the boat, the thought came into my brother'shead, that maybe it might be turned to an advantage if he was to spoilthe powder in the firelocks; so, as they were sitting in the boat, he,with seeming innocence, drew his hand several times through the water,and in lifting it took care to drop and sprinkle the powder-pans of thefirelocks, in so much, that by the time they were ferried to the Renfrewside, they were spoiled for immediate use.
"Do as I do," said he softly to Esau Wardrop, as they were stepping out,and with that he feigned some small expedient for tarrying in the boat,while the soldiers, taking their arms, leapt on shore. The ferryman alsowas out before them; and my brother seeing this, took up an oar,seemingly to help him to step out; but pretending at the time tostumble, he caught hold of Esau's shoulder, and pushing with, the oar,shoved off the boat in such a manner, that the rope was pulled out ofthe ferryman's hand, who was in a great consternation. The soldiers,however, laughed at seeing how the river's current was carrying awaytheir prisoners; for my brother was in no hurry to make use of the oarto pull the boat back; on the contrary he pushed her farther and fartherinto the river, until one of the guards, beginning to suspect somestratagem, levelled his firelock, and threatened to shoot. Whereupon mybrother and Esau quickened their exertions, and soon reached theopposite side of the river, while the soldiers were banning and tearingwith rage to be so outwitted, and their firelocks rendered useless forthe time.
As soon as the fugitives were within wadeable reach of the bank, theyjumpit out of the boat and ran, and were not long within the scope oftheir adversaries' fire.
By this time the sun was far in the west, and they knew little of thecountry about where they were; but, before embarking, the ferryman hadpointed out to them the abbey towers of Paisley, and they knew that, fora long period, many of the humane inhabitants of that town had beenamong the faithfullest of Scottishmen to the cause of the Kirk andCovenant; and therefore they thought that, under the distraction oftheir circumstances maybe it would be their wisest course to directtheir steps in the dusk of evening towards the town, and they threwaside their arms, that they might pass as simple wayfaring men.
Accordingly, having loitered in the way thither, they reached Paisleyabout the heel of the twilight, and searching their way into the heartof the town, they found a respectable public near the Cross, into whichthey entered, and ordered some consideration of vivers for supper, justas if they had been on market business. In so doing nothing particularwas remarked of them; and my brother, by way of an entertainment beforebed-time, told his companion of my grandfather's adventure in Paisley,the circumstantials whereof are already written in this book; drawingout of what had come to pass with him cheering aspirations of happierdays for themselves.
While they were thus speaking, one of the town-council, Deacon Fulton,came in to have a cap and a crack with any stranger that might be in thehouse. This deacon was a man who well represented and was a good swatchof the plain honesty and strict principles which have long governedwithin that ancient borough of regality. He seeing them, and beingwithal a man of shrewd discernment, eyed them very sharply, and maybeguessing what they were and where they had come from entered into adiscreet conversation with them anent the troubles of the time. In thishe showed the pawkrie, that so well becomes those who sit in council,with a spicerie of that wholesome virtue and friendly sympathy of whichall the poor fugitives from the Pentland raid stood in so great need.For, without pretending to jealouse any thing of what they were, hespoke of that business as the crack of the day, and told them of many ofthe afflicting things which had been perpetrated after the dispersion ofthe Covenanters, saying,--
"It's a thing to be deplored in all time coming, that the poor,misguided folk, concern't in that rash wark, didna rather take refuge inthe towns, and amang their brethren and fellow-subjects, than flee tothe hills, where they are hunted down wi' dog and gun, as beasts o' anill kind. Really every body's wae for their folly; though to be sure, ina government sense, their fault's past pardon. It's no indeed a thing o'toleration, that subjects are to rise against rulers."
"True," said my brother, "unless rulers fall against subjects."
The worthy magistrate looked a thought seriously at him; no in reprooffor what he had said, or might say, but in an admonitory manner,saying,--
"Ye're owre douce a like man, I think, to hae been either art or part inthis headstrong Reformation, unless ye had some great cause to provokeyou; and I doubt na ye hae discretion enough no to contest without needpoints o' doctrine; at least for me, I'm laith to enter on ony sort o'polemtic, for it's a Gude's truth, I'm nae deacon at it."
My brother discerning by his manner that he saw through them, would haverefrain't at the time from further discourse; but Esau Wardrop was,though a man of few words, yet of such austerity of faith, that he couldnot abide to have it thought he was in any time or place afraid forhimself to bear his testimony, even when manifestly uncalled on to do;so he here broke in upon the considerate and worthy counsellor, andsaid,--
"That a covenanted spirit was bound at a' times and in a' situations,conditions, and circumstances, to uphold the cause."
"True, true, we are a' Covenanters," replied the deacon, "and Gudeforbid that I should e'er forget the vows I took when I was in a mannera bairn; but there's an unco difference between the auld covenanting andthis Lanerk New-light. In the auld times, our forbears and our fatherscovenanted to show their power, that the King and government mightconsider what they were doing. And they betook not themselves to thesword, till the quiet warning of almost all the realm united in oneleague had proved ineffectual; and when at last there was nae helpfor't, and they were called by their conscience and dangers to girdthemselves for battle, they went forth in the might and power of the armof flesh, as weel as of a righteous cause. But, sirs, this donsiebusiness of the Pentland raid was but a splurt, and the publishing ofthe Covenant, after the poor folk had made themselves rebels, was, tosay the least o't, a weak conceit."
"We were not rebels," cried Esau Wardrop.
"Hoot toot, friend," said the counsellor, "ye're owre hasty. I did naca' the poor folk rebels in the sense of a rebellion, where might takesthe lead in a controversy wi' right, but because they had risen againstthe law."
"There can be nae rebellion against a law that teaches things over whichman can have no control, the thought and the conscience," said EsauWardrop.
"Aye, aye," replied the counsellor, "a' that's vera true; but if itplease the wisdom of the King, by and with the advice of his privycounsellors, to prohibit certain actions,--and surely actions areneither thoughts nor consciences,--do ye mean to say that the subject'sno bound to obey such royal ordinances?"
"Aye, if the acts are in themselves harmless, and trench not upon anyman's rights of property and person."
"Weel, I'll no debate that wi' you," replied the worthy counsellor; "butsurely ye'll ne'er maintain that conventicles, and the desertion of theregular and appointed places of worship, are harmless; nor can it bedenied that sic things do not tend to aggrieve and impair the clergybaith in their minds and means?"
"I confess that," said Esau; "but think, that the conventicles anddesertions, whereof ye speak, sprang out of an arbitrary anduncalled-for disturbance of the peaceful worship of God. Evilcounselling caused them, and evil counselling punishes them till thepunishment can be no longer endured."
"Ye're a doure-headed
man," said Deacon Fulton, "and really ye hae gi'enme sic a cast o' your knowledge that I can do no less than make you areturn; so tak this, and bide nae langer in Paisley than your needscall." With that he laid his purse on the table and went away. Butscarcely had he departed the house when who should enter but the verysoldiers from whom my brother and Esau had so marvellously escaped.