Waverley; Or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Volume 2

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER LX

  CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

  Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous situation. He soonlost the sound of the bagpipes; and, what was yet more unpleasant,when, after searching long in vain and scrambling through manyenclosures, he at length approached the highroad, he learned, fromthe unwelcome noise of kettledrums and trumpets, that the Englishcavalry now occupied it, and consequently were between him and theHighlanders. Precluded, therefore, from advancing in a straightdirection, he resolved to avoid the English military and endeavourto join his friends by making a circuit to the left, for which abeaten path, deviating from the main road in that direction,seemed to afford facilities. The path was muddy and the night darkand cold; but even these inconveniences were hardly felt amidstthe apprehensions which falling into the hands of the King'sforces reasonably excited in his bosom.

  After walking about three miles, he at length reached a hamlet.Conscious that the common people were in general unfavourable tothe cause he had espoused, yet desirous, if possible, to procure ahorse and guide to Penrith, where he hoped to find the rear, ifnot the main body, of the Chevalier's army, he approached thealehouse of the place. There was a great noise within; he pausedto listen. A round English oath or two, and the burden of acampaign song, convinced him the hamlet also was occupied by theDuke of Cumberland's soldiers. Endeavouring to retire from it assoftly as possible, and blessing the obscurity which hitherto hehad murmured against, Waverley groped his way the best he couldalong a small paling, which seemed the boundary of some cottagegarden. As he reached the gate of this little enclosure, hisoutstretched hand was grasped by that of a female, whose voice atthe same time uttered, 'Edward, is't thou, man?'

  'Here is some unlucky mistake,' thought Edward, struggling, butgently, to disengage himself.

  'Naen o' thy foun, now, man, or the red cwoats will hear thee;they hae been houlerying and poulerying every ane that pastalehouse door this noight to make them drive their waggons andsick loike. Come into feyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief.'

  'A good hint,' thought Waverley, following the girl through thelittle garden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself tokindle a match at an expiring fire, and with the match to light acandle. She had no sooner looked on Edward than she dropped thelight, with a shrill scream of 'O feyther, feyther!'

  The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared--a sturdy old farmer,in a pair of leather breeches, and boots pulled on withoutstockings, having just started from his bed; the rest of his dresswas only a Westmoreland statesman's robe-de-chambre--that is, hisshirt. His figure was displayed to advantage by a candle which hebore in his left hand; in his right he brandished a poker.

  'What hast ho here, wench?'

  'O!' cried the poor girl, almost going off in hysterics, 'Ithought it was Ned Williams, and it is one of the plaid-men.'

  'And what was thee ganging to do wi' Ned Williams at this time o'noight?' To this, which was, perhaps, one of the numerous class ofquestions more easily asked than answered, the rosy-cheeked damselmade no reply, but continued sobbing and wringing her hands.

  'And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a town? dost hoknow that, mon? ad, they'll sliver thee loike a turnip, mon.'

  'I know my life is in great danger,' said Waverley, 'but if youcan assist me, I will reward you handsomely. I am no Scotchman,but an unfortunate English gentleman.'

  'Be ho Scot or no,' said the honest farmer, 'I wish thou hadstkept the other side of the hallan. But since thou art here, JacobJopson will betray no man's bluid; and the plaids were gay canny,and did not do so much mischief when they were here yesterday.'Accordingly, he set seriously about sheltering and refreshing ourhero for the night. The fire was speedily rekindled, but withprecaution against its light being seen from without. The jollyyeoman cut a rasher of bacon, which Cicely soon broiled, and herfather added a swingeing tankard of his best ale. It was settledthat Edward should remain there till the troops marched in themorning, then hire or buy a horse from the farmer, and, with thebest directions that could be obtained, endeavour to overtake hisfriends. A clean, though coarse, bed received him after thefatigues of this unhappy day.

  With the morning arrived the news that the Highlanders hadevacuated Penrith, and marched off towards Carlisle; that the Dukeof Cumberland was in possession of Penrith, and that detachmentsof his army covered the roads in every direction. To attempt toget through undiscovered would be an act of the most frantictemerity. Ned Williams (the right Edward) was now called tocouncil by Cicely and her father. Ned, who perhaps did not carethat his handsome namesake should remain too long in the samehouse with his sweetheart, for fear of fresh mistakes, proposedthat Waverley, exchanging his uniform and plaid for the dress ofthe country, should go with him to his father's farm nearUllswater, and remain in that undisturbed retirement until themilitary movements in the country should have ceased to renderhis departure hazardous. A price was also agreed upon, at whichthe stranger might board with Farmer Williams if he thoughtproper, till he could depart with safety. It was of moderateamount; the distress of his situation, among this honest andsimple-hearted race, being considered as no reason for increasingtheir demand.

  The necessary articles of dress were accordingly procured, and, byfollowing by-paths known to the young farmer, they hoped to escapeany unpleasant rencontre. A recompense for their hospitality wasrefused peremptorily by old Jopson and his cherry-cheekeddaughter; a kiss paid the one and a hearty shake of the hand theother. Both seemed anxious for their guest's safety, and tookleave of him with kind wishes.

  In the course of their route Edward, with his guide, traversedthose fields which the night before had been the scene of action.A brief gleam of December's sun shone sadly on the broad heath,which, towards the spot where the great north-west road enteredthe enclosures of Lord Lonsdale's property, exhibited dead bodiesof men and horses, and the usual companions of war, a number ofcarrion-crows, hawks, and ravens.

  'And this, then, was thy last field,' said Waverley to himself,his eye filling at the recollection of the many splendid points ofFergus's character, and of their former intimacy, all his passionsand imperfections forgotten--'here fell the last Vich Ian Vohr,on a nameless heath; and in an obscure night-skirmish was quenchedthat ardent spirit, who thought it little to cut a way for hismaster to the British throne! Ambition, policy, bravery, all farbeyond their sphere, here learned the fate of mortals. The solesupport, too, of a sister whose spirit, as proud and unbending,was even more exalted than thine own; here ended all thy hopes forFlora, and the long and valued line which it was thy boast toraise yet more highly by thy adventurous valour!'

  As these ideas pressed on Waverley's mind, he resolved to go uponthe open heath and search if, among the slain, he could discoverthe body of his friend, with the pious intention of procuring forhim the last rites of sepulture. The timorous young man whoaccompanied him remonstrated upon the danger of the attempt, butEdward was determined. The followers of the camp had alreadystripped the dead of all they could carry away; but the countrypeople, unused to scenes of blood, had not yet approached thefield of action, though some stood fearfully gazing at a distance.About sixty or seventy dragoons lay slain within the firstenclosure, upon the highroad, and on the open moor. Of theHighlanders, not above a dozen had fallen, chiefly those who,venturing too far on the moor, could not regain the strong ground.He could not find the body of Fergus among the slain. On a littleknoll, separated from the others, lay the carcasses of threeEnglish dragoons, two horses, and the page Callum Beg, whose hardskull a trooper's broadsword had, at length, effectually cloven.It was possible his clan had carried off the body of Fergus; butit was also possible he had escaped, especially as Evan Dhu, whowould never leave his Chief, was not found among the dead; or hemight be prisoner, and the less formidable denunciation inferredfrom the appearance of the Bodach Glas might have proved the trueone. The approach of a party sent for the purpose of compellingthe country people to bury the dead, and who had already assembledseveral pea
sants for that purpose, now obliged Edward to rejoinhis guide, who awaited him in great anxiety and fear under shadeof the plantations.

  After leaving this field of death, the rest of their journey washappily accomplished. At the house of Farmer Williams, Edwardpassed for a young kinsman, educated for the church, who was cometo reside there till the civil tumults permitted him to passthrough the country. This silenced suspicion among the kind andsimple yeomanry of Cumberland, and accounted sufficiently for thegrave manners and retired habits of the new guest. The precautionbecame more necessary than Waverley had anticipated, as a varietyof incidents prolonged his stay at Fasthwaite, as the farm wascalled.

  A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible formore than ten days. When the roads began to become a littlepracticable, they successively received news of the retreat of theChevalier into Scotland; then, that he had abandoned thefrontiers, retiring upon Glasgow; and that the Duke of Cumberlandhad formed the siege of Carlisle. His army, therefore, cut off allpossibility of Waverley's escaping into Scotland in thatdirection. On the eastern border Marshal Wade, with a large force,was advancing upon Edinburgh; and all along the frontier, partiesof militia, volunteers, and partizans were in arms to suppressinsurrection, and apprehend such stragglers from the Highland armyas had been left in England. The surrender of Carlisle, and theseverity with which the rebel garrison were threatened, soonformed an additional reason against venturing upon a solitary andhopeless journey through a hostile country and a large army, tocarry the assistance of a single sword to a cause which seemedaltogether desperate. In this lonely and secluded situation,without the advantage of company or conversation with men ofcultivated minds, the arguments of Colonel Talbot often recurredto the mind of our hero. A still more anxious recollection hauntedhis slumbers--it was the dying look and gesture of ColonelGardiner. Most devoutly did he hope, as the rarely occurring postbrought news of skirmishes with various success, that it mightnever again be his lot to draw his sword in civil conflict. Thenhis mind turned to the supposed death of Fergus, to the desolatesituation of Flora, and, with yet more tender recollection, tothat of Rose Bradwardine, who was destitute of the devotedenthusiasm of loyalty, which to her friend hallowed and exaltedmisfortune. These reveries he was permitted to enjoy, undisturbedby queries or interruption; and it was in many a winter walk bythe shores of Ullswater that he acquired a more complete masteryof a spirit tamed by adversity than his former experience hadgiven him; and that he felt himself entitled to say firmly, thoughperhaps with a sigh, that the romance of his life was ended, andthat its real history had now commenced. He was soon called uponto justify his pretensions by reason and philosophy.