Guy Mannering, Or, the Astrologer — Volume 01

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER IX

  Paint Scotland greeting ower her thrissle, Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whistle, And d--n'd excisemen in a bustle, Seizing a stell, Triumphant crushin't like a mussel, Or lampit shell

  BURNS.

  During the period of Mr. Bertram's active magistracy, he did not forgetthe affairs of the revenue. Smuggling, for which the Isle of Man thenafforded peculiar facilities, was general, or rather universal, allalong the southwestern coast of Scotland. Almost all the common peoplewere engaged in these practices; the gentry connived at them, and theofficers of the revenue were frequently discountenanced in the exerciseof their duty by those who should have protected them.

  There was at this period, employed as a riding-officer or supervisor,in that part of the country a certain Francis Kennedy, already named inour narrative--a stout, resolute, and active man, who had made seizuresto a great amount, and was proportionally hated by those who had aninterest in the fair trade, as they called the pursuit of thesecontraband adventurers. This person was natural son to a gentleman ofgood family, owing to which circumstance, and to his being of a jolly,convivial disposition, and singing a good song, he was admitted to theoccasional society of the gentlemen of the country, and was a member ofseveral of their clubs for practising athletic games, at which he wasparticularly expert.

  At Ellangowan Kennedy was a frequent and always an acceptable guest.His vivacity relieved Mr. Bertram of the trouble of thought, and thelabour which it cost him to support a detailed communication of ideas;while the daring and dangerous exploits which he had undertaken in thedischarge of his office formed excellent conversation. To all theserevenue adventures did the Laird of Ellangowan seriously incline, andthe amusement which he derived from Kennedy's society formed anexcellent reason for countenancing and assisting the narrator in theexecution of his invidious and hazardous duty.

  'Frank Kennedy,' he said, 'was a gentleman, though on the wrang side ofthe blanket; he was connected with the family of Ellangowan through thehouse of Glengubble. The last Laird of Glengubble would have broughtthe estate into the Ellangowan line; but, happening to go to Harrigate,he there met with Miss Jean Hadaway--by the by, the Green Dragon atHarrigate is the best house of the twa--but for Frank Kennedy, he's inone sense a gentleman born, and it's a shame not to support him againstthese blackguard smugglers.'

  After this league had taken place between judgment and execution, itchanced that Captain Dirk Hatteraick had landed a cargo of spirits andother contraband goods upon the beach not far from Ellangowan, and,confiding in the indifference with which the Laird had formerlyregarded similar infractions of the law, he was neither very anxious toconceal nor to expedite the transaction. The consequence was that Mr.Frank Kennedy, armed with a warrant from Ellangowan, and supported bysome of the Laird's people who knew the country, and by a party ofmilitary, poured down upon the kegs, bales, and bags, and after adesperate affray, in which severe wounds were given and received,succeeded in clapping the broad arrow upon the articles, and bearingthem off in triumph to the next custom-house. Dirk Hatteraick vowed, inDutch, German, and English, a deep and full revenge, both against thegauger and his abettors; and all who knew him thought it likely hewould keep his word.

  A few days after the departure of the gipsy tribe, Mr. Bertram askedhis lady one morning at breakfast whether this was not little Harry'sbirthday.

  'Five years auld exactly, this blessed day,' answered the lady; 'so wemay look into the English gentleman's paper.'

  Mr. Bertram liked to show his authority in trifles. 'No, my dear, nottill to-morrow. The last time I was at quarter-sessions the sherifftold us that DIES--that dies inceptus--in short, you don't understandLatin, but it means that a term-day is not begun till it's ended.'

  'That sounds like nonsense, my dear.'

  'May be so, my dear; but it may be very good law for all that. I amsure, speaking of term-days, I wish, as Frank Kennedy says, thatWhitsunday would kill Martinmas and be hanged for the murder; for thereI have got a letter about that interest of Jenny Cairns's, and deil atenant's been at the Place yet wi' a boddle of rent, nor will not tillCandlemas. But, speaking of Frank Kennedy, I daresay he'll be here theday, for he was away round to Wigton to warn a king's ship that's lyingin the bay about Dirk Hatteraick's lugger being on the coast again, andhe'll be back this day; so we'll have a bottle of claret and drinklittle Harry's health.'

  'I wish,' replied the lady, 'Frank Kennedy would let Dirk Hatteraickalane. What needs he make himself mair busy than other folk? Cannot hesing his sang, and take his drink, and draw his salary, like CollectorSnail, honest man, that never fashes ony body? And I wonder at you,Laird, for meddling and making. Did we ever want to send for tea orbrandy frae the borough-town when Dirk Hatteraick used to come quietlyinto the bay?'

  'Mrs. Bertram, you know nothing of these matters. Do you think itbecomes a magistrate to let his own house be made a receptacle forsmuggled goods? Frank Kennedy will show you the penalties in the act,and ye ken yoursell they used to put their run goods into the AuldPlace of Ellangowan up by there.'

  'Oh dear, Mr. Bertram, and what the waur were the wa's and the vault o'the auld castle for having a whin kegs o' brandy in them at an orratime? I am sure ye were not obliged to ken ony thing about it; and whatthe waur was the King that the lairds here got a soup o' drink and theladies their drap o' tea at a reasonable rate?--it's a shame to them topit such taxes on them!--and was na I much the better of these Flandershead and pinners that Dirk Hatteraick sent me a' the way from Antwerp?It will be lang or the King sends me ony thing, or Frank Kennedyeither. And then ye would quarrel with these gipsies too! I expectevery day to hear the barnyard's in a low.'

  'I tell you once more, my dear, you don't understand these things--andthere's Frank Kennedy coming galloping up the avenue.'

  'Aweel! aweel! Ellangowan,' said the lady, raising her voice as theLaird left the room, 'I wish ye may understand them yoursell, that'sa'!'

  From this nuptial dialogue the Laird joyfully escaped to meet hisfaithful friend, Mr. Kennedy, who arrived in high spirits. 'For thelove of life, Ellangowan,' he said, 'get up to the castle! you'll seethat old fox Dirk Hatteraick, and his Majesty's hounds in full cryafter him.' So saying, he flung his horse's bridle to a boy, and ran upthe ascent to the old castle, followed by the Laird, and indeed byseveral others of the family, alarmed by the sound of guns from thesea, now distinctly heard.

  On gaining that part of the ruins which commanded the most extensiveoutlook, they saw a lugger, with all her canvass crowded, standingacross the bay, closely pursued by a sloop of war, that kept firingupon the chase from her bows, which the lugger returned with herstern-chasers. 'They're but at long bowls yet,' cried Kennedy, in greatexultation, 'but they will be closer by and by. D--n him, he's startinghis cargo! I see the good Nantz pitching overboard, keg after keg!That's a d--d ungenteel thing of Mr. Hatteraick, as I shall let himknow by and by. Now, now! they've got the wind of him! that's it,that's it! Hark to him! hark to him! Now, my dogs! now, my dogs! Harkto Ranger, hark!'

  'I think,' said the old gardener to one of the maids, 'the ganger'sfie,' by which word the common people express those violent spiritswhich they think a presage of death.

  Meantime the chase continued. The lugger, being piloted with greatability, and using every nautical shift to make her escape, had nowreached, and was about to double, the headland which formed the extremepoint of land on the left side of the bay, when a ball having hit theyard in the slings, the mainsail fell upon the deck. The consequence ofthis accident appeared inevitable, but could not be seen by thespectators; for the vessel, which had just doubled the headland, loststeerage, and fell out of their sight behind the promontory. The sloopof war crowded all sail to pursue, but she had stood too close upon thecape, so that they were obliged to wear the vessel for fear of goingashore, and to make a large tack back into the bay, in order to recoversea-room enough to double the headland.

  'They'll lose her, by--, cargo and
lugger, one or both,' said Kennedy;'I must gallop away to the Point of Warroch (this was the headland sooften mentioned), and make them a signal where she has drifted to onthe other side. Good-bye for an hour, Ellangowan; get out the gallonpunch-bowl and plenty of lemons. I'll stand for the French article bythe time I come back, and we'll drink the young Laird's health in abowl that would swim the collector's yawl.' So saying, he mounted hishorse and galloped off.

  About a mile from the house, and upon the verge of the woods, which, aswe have said, covered a promontory terminating in the cape called thePoint of Warroch, Kennedy met young Harry Bertram, attended by histutor, Dominie Sampson. He had often promised the child a ride upon hisgalloway; and, from singing, dancing, and playing Punch for hisamusement, was a particular favourite. He no sooner came scampering upthe path, than the boy loudly claimed his promise; and Kennedy, who sawno risk, in indulging him, and wished to tease the Dominie, in whosevisage he read a remonstrance, caught up Harry from the ground, placedhim before him, and continued his route; Sampson's 'Peradventure,Master Kennedy-' being lost in the clatter of his horse's feet. Thepedagogue hesitated a moment whether he should go after them; butKennedy being a person in full confidence of the family, and with whomhe himself had no delight in associating, 'being that he was addictedunto profane and scurrilous jests,' he continued his own walk at hisown pace, till he reached the Place of Ellangowan.

  The spectators from the ruined walls of the castle were still watchingthe sloop of war, which at length, but not without the loss ofconsiderable time, recovered sea-room enough to weather the Point ofWarroch, and was lost to their sight behind that wooded promontory.Some time afterwards the discharges of several cannon were heard at adistance, and, after an interval, a still louder explosion, as of avessel blown up, and a cloud of smoke rose above the trees and mingledwith the blue sky. All then separated on their different occasions,auguring variously upon the fate of the smuggler, but the majorityinsisting that her capture was inevitable, if she had not already goneto the bottom.

  'It is near our dinner-time, my dear,' said Mrs. Bertram to herhusband; 'will it be lang before Mr. Kennedy comes back?'

  'I expect him every moment, my dear,' said the Laird; 'perhaps he isbringing some of the officers of the sloop with him.'

  'My stars, Mr. Bertram! why did not ye tell me this before, that wemight have had the large round table? And then, they're a' tired o'saut meat, and, to tell you the plain truth, a rump o' beef is the bestpart of your dinner. And then I wad have put on another gown, and yewadna have been the waur o' a clean neck-cloth yoursell. But ye delightin surprising and hurrying one. I am sure I am no to baud out for everagainst this sort of going on; but when folk's missed, then they aremoaned.'

  'Pshaw, pshaw! deuce take the beef, and the gown, and table, and theneck-cloth! we shall do all very well. Where's the Dominie, John? (to aservant who was busy about the table) where's the Dominie and littleHarry?'

  'Mr. Sampson's been at hame these twa hours and mair, but I dinna thinkMr. Harry cam hame wi' him.'

  'Not come hame wi' him?' said the lady; 'desire Mr. Sampson to stepthis way directly.'

  'Mr. Sampson,' said she, upon his entrance, 'is it not the mostextraordinary thing in this world wide, that you, that have freeup-putting--bed, board, and washing--and twelve pounds sterling a year,just to look after that boy, should let him out of your sight for twaor three hours?'

  Sampson made a bow of humble acknowledgment at each pause which theangry lady made in her enumeration of the advantages of his situation,in order to give more weight to her remonstrance, and then, in wordswhich we will not do him the injustice to imitate, told how Mr. FrancisKennedy 'had assumed spontaneously the charge of Master Harry, indespite of his remonstrances in the contrary.'

  'I am very little obliged to Mr. Francis Kennedy for his pains,' saidthe lady, peevishly; 'suppose he lets the boy drop from his horse, andlames him? or suppose one of the cannons comes ashore and kills him? orsuppose--'

  'Or suppose, my dear,' said Ellangowan, 'what is much more likely thananything else, that they have gone aboard the sloop or the prize, andare to come round the Point with the tide?'

  'And then they may be drowned,' said the lady.

  'Verily,' said Sampson, 'I thought Mr. Kennedy had returned an hoursince. Of a surety I deemed I heard his horse's feet.'

  'That,' said John, with a broad grin, 'was Grizzel chasing thehumble-cow out of the close.'

  Sampson coloured up to the eyes, not at the implied taunt, which hewould never have discovered, or resented if he had, but at some ideawhich crossed his own mind. 'I have been in an error,' he said; 'of asurety I should have tarried for the babe.' So saying, he snatched hisbone-headed cane and hat, and hurried away towards Warroch wood fasterthan he was ever known to walk before or after.

  The Laird lingered some time, debating the point with the lady. Atlength he saw the sloop of war again make her appearance; but, withoutapproaching the shore, she stood away to the westward with all hersails set, and was soon out of sight. The lady's state of timorous andfretful apprehension was so habitual that her fears went for nothingwith her lord and master; but an appearance of disturbance and anxietyamong the servants now excited his alarm, especially when he was calledout of the room, and told in private that Mr. Kennedy's horse had cometo the stable door alone, with the saddle turned round below its bellyand the reins of the bridle broken; and that a farmer had informed themin passing that there was a smuggling lugger burning like a furnace onthe other side of the Point of Warroch, and that, though he had comethrough the wood, he had seen or heard nothing of Kennedy or the youngLaird, 'only there was Dominie Sampson gaun rampauging about like mad,seeking for them.'

  All was now bustle at Ellangowan. The Laird and his servants, male andfemale, hastened to the wood of Warroch. The tenants and cottagers inthe neighbourhood lent their assistance, partly out of zeal, partlyfrom curiosity. Boats were manned to search the sea-shore, which, onthe other side of the Point, rose into high and indented rocks. A vaguesuspicion was entertained, though too horrible to be expressed, thatthe child might have fallen from one of these cliffs.

  The evening had begun to close when the parties entered the wood, anddispersed different ways in quest of the boy and his companion. Thedarkening of the atmosphere, and the hoarse sighs of the November windthrough the naked trees, the rustling of the withered leaves whichstrewed the glades, the repeated halloos of the different parties,which often drew them together in expectation of meeting the objects oftheir search, gave a cast of dismal sublimity to the scene.

  At length, after a minute and fruitless investigation through the wood,the searchers began to draw together into one body, and to comparenotes. The agony of the father grew beyond concealment, yet it scarcelyequalled the anguish of the tutor. 'Would to God I had died for him!'the affectionate creature repeated, in notes of the deepest distress.Those who were less interested rushed into a tumultuary discussion ofchances and possibilities. Each gave his opinion, and each wasalternately swayed by that of the others. Some thought the objects oftheir search had gone aboard the sloop; some that they had gone to avillage at three miles' distance; some whispered they might have beenon board the lugger, a few planks and beams of which the tide nowdrifted ashore.

  At this instant a shout was heard from the beach, so loud, so shrill,so piercing, so different from every sound which the woods that day hadrung to, that nobody hesitated a moment to believe that it conveyedtidings, and tidings of dreadful import. All hurried to the place, and,venturing without scruple upon paths which at another time they wouldhave shuddered to look at, descended towards a cleft of the rock, whereone boat's crew was already landed. 'Here, sirs, here! this way, forGod's sake! this way! this way!' was the reiterated cry. Ellangowanbroke through the throng which had already assembled at the fatal spot,and beheld the object of their terror. It was the dead body of Kennedy.At first sight he seemed to have perished by a fall from the rocks,which rose above the spot on which he lay in a per
pendicular precipiceof a hundred feet above the beach. The corpse was lying half in, halfout of the water; the advancing tide, raising the arm and stirring theclothes, had given it at some distance the appearance of motion, sothat those who first discovered the body thought that life remained.But every spark had been long extinguished.

  'My bairn! my bairn!' cried the distracted father, 'where can he be?' Adozen mouths were opened to communicate hopes which no one felt. Someone at length mentioned--the gipsies! In a moment Ellangowan hadreascended the cliffs, flung himself upon the first horse he met, androde furiously to the huts at Derncleugh. All was there dark anddesolate; and, as he dismounted to make more minute search, he stumbledover fragments of furniture which had been thrown out of the cottages,and the broken wood and thatch which had been pulled down by hisorders. At that moment the prophecy, or anathema, of Meg Merrilies fellheavy on his mind. 'You have stripped the thatch from seven cottages;see that the roof-tree of your own house stand the surer!'

  'Restore,' he cried, 'restore my bairn! bring me back my son, and allshall be forgot and forgiven!' As he uttered these words in a sort offrenzy, his eye caught a glimmering of light in one of the dismantledcottages; it was that in which Meg Merrilies formerly resided. Thelight, which seemed to proceed from fire, glimmered not only throughthe window, but also through the rafters of the hut where the roofinghad been torn off.

  He flew to the place; the entrance was bolted. Despair gave themiserable father the strength of ten men; he rushed against the doorwith such violence that it gave way before the momentum of his weightand force. The cottage was empty, but bore marks of recent habitation:there was fire on the hearth, a kettle, and some preparation for food.As he eagerly gazed around for something that might confirm his hopethat his child yet lived, although in the power of those strangepeople, a man entered the hut.

  It was his old gardener. 'O sir!' said the old man, 'such a night asthis I trusted never to live to see! ye maun come to the Placedirectly!'

  'Is my boy found? is he alive? have ye found Harry Bertram? Andrew,have ye found Harry Bertram?'

  'No, sir; but-'

  'Then he is kidnapped! I am sure of it, Andrew! as sure as that I treadupon earth! She has stolen him; and I will never stir from this placetill I have tidings of my bairn!'

  'O, but ye maun come hame, sir! ye maun come hame! We have sent for theSheriff, and we'll seta watch here a' night, in case the gipsiesreturn; but YOU--ye maun come hame, sir, for my lady's in thedead-thraw.'

  Bertram turned a stupefied and unmeaning eye on the messenger whouttered this calamitous news; and, repeating the words 'in thedead-thraw!' as if he could not comprehend their meaning, suffered theold man to drag him towards his horse. During the ride home he onlysaid, 'Wife and bairn baith--mother and son baith,--sair, sair toabide!'

  It is needless to dwell upon the new scene of agony which awaited him.The news of Kennedy's fate had been eagerly and incautiouslycommunicated at Ellangowan, with the gratuitous addition, that,doubtless, 'he had drawn the young Laird over the craig with him,though the tide had swept away the child's body; he was light, puirthing, and would flee farther into the surf.'

  Mrs. Bertram heard the tidings; she was far advanced in her pregnancy;she fell into the pains of premature labour, and, ere Ellangowan hadrecovered his agitated faculties, so as to comprehend the full distressof his situation, he was the father of a female infant, and a widower.