by James Milne
_VII.--A Parley and a Surprise_
You must ride with fortune if you expect to win many of her favours.Like a woman, she sighs to be courted, even if she fears to becaptured. She likes adventures for themselves, and may be good to youif you give her some. But the man who lets her ride by alone, or withsomebody who has already bridled her, and then goes out in pursuit, hasa long chase before him.
My affair with the Black Colonel was both private and public, and thus,in a two-fold sense, the right policy was to take the offensive. Yes,I would tell him bluntly that there could be nothing between us on thematters he had raised, and that it was war to the dirk, with such aneventual issue as God might will.
This was my decision, and it seemed to me that, as an officer and agentleman, I must intimate it to him at first-hand by invading hisretreat, the Colonel's Bed, over there in Strathdee, near his Inverey.Singly, and alone, I would seek the Black Colonel in his den,honourably shake myself clear of his dark overtures, and tell him tocease his designs.
If I were to read this chronicle as remote from its occurrences as youmay do, I should, probably, toss my head and call that a quixoticdecision, but I have enough pride in being a Gordon, to wish that I maystand fairly with the future, in small as in great matters. Therefore,I beg you that you put yourself in my place, bearing in mind thedifficult conditions of the time in the Scottish Highlands.
A man needs a stout heart, a clear head, and a sure hand, to hold hisown in a welter of interests and antagonisms such as beset me. Theeternal instinct in a full man is to get through, to achieve, to live,aye, and to love, thus making life a great, clamorous thing not a mereexistence. So concluding, I took the first occasion by the hand, withwhat personal risk there might be, and made across the rugged bridge ofmountain which both binds and divides the Don and the Dee, to interviewthe Black Colonel.
My mood was less heroic by the time I had done the miles of scarpedhill, clinging moor, and lifting wood, with bridle-paths for roads,which took me to the locality of the Colonel's Bed. Where it wasexactly I did not know, but he had friends around who kept himinformed, and I counted on meeting one of them. Then I could send amessage to him, saying I desired to speak with him privately, and hewould guess the rest.
Things fell out like that, and I was bidden to rest in a Highlandshieling, squat of form, thatched with rushes, floored with earth, andeat a bannock and drink a bowl of goat's milk, while my message wentforward and an answer returned. Perhaps two hours passed, and I slepta little, for I was tired, before that answer did arrive by the eternalRed Murdo.
To be sure, I would be made welcome by his master, but I must not feeloffended if I was blindfolded during the walk to the Colonel's Bed.This request, courteously put by Red Murdo, showed me the situation Ihad invited for myself, but, having gone so far, I was not to turnback, and I said, "Very well." He tied a coarse tartan scarf ofhome-spun wool, which he wore himself, tightly round my eyes, sotightly that at first it hurt a little, and we started for ourdestination.
We had a rough, difficult track, all up and down again, to follow, asmy feet discovered, with no sight to guide them. But Red Murdo, astudy in loyalty to his chief and in consideration for me, supported mesturdily, and I broke no shin on the many rocks strewing our road.
I was wondering if we should ever arrive, when I heard the rush of astream almost beneath us. Instinctively I stopped, as one does when anunseen danger is near, but Red Murdo said, "It's a' right; we're nearthere." Next I felt as if I were walking in a cave, for there was apeculiar hollow echo to our tread. Then the tartan scarf was removedfrom my eyes, and, opening them, I saw the Black Colonel holding outhis hand.
"Glad, Sir Visitor, to see you," he said, "and such hospitality as thispoor place can offer is yours."
I took his hand, without holding it, bowed stiffly, and sat myself on achair made of birch branches, to which he pointed. It was, apart froman equally rude litter-bed and a rough table, the only furniture in therefuge. This I saw by the light of a fire of broken wood and peatwhich burned slowly in a corner, where, apparently, the smoke foundsome channel of escape, because it drifted slowly upward in spirals.
My feeling had been right, for this was a cave, or, rather, a tunnel,worn in the course of centuries by the stream which had now desertedit, to flow lower down. Above us, as I judged, rose the side of asmall hill, and immediately without there would be a sheer drop to thedeparted waters, whose noise soughed like a strong wind among pinetrees.
It was a retreat made by Nature in her chance moods, and used by theBlack Colonel at that straitened time of his life. Probably only he,Red Murdo, and a few others actually knew he was there, though he hadboasted that many did, and I should know no more than that I had been avisitor to the Colonel's Bed. And yet I should probably know a gooddeal more, for otherwise why was I there?
Anyhow, after the previous hour or two of tensity, it was a relief tobe face to face with my man, I able to read his, if I could, he able toread mine. It was only in the grey half-light of his hole in therocks, but, at least, we should look each other in the eyes, as menwish to do when they are acting honestly towards each other, even iflater they must fight.
You are quick, at a drawn moment, to seize the picture of a man, tosound his being, and the Black Colonel, as he stood there courteouslyattentive, intelligently alert, made a picture which vouchsafed a clearpersonality. He would have been something ripely over thirty, but tenyears of adventure and philandering sat lightly on him, and he lookedeven younger than he was. A dark man keeps the freshness of youthwell, until it begins to go in the greying of his hair, when it goesquickly; while a fair man grows middle-aged soon, but fends off old agewell, or, at all events, the look of it.
The Black Colonel was dark entirely; dark of skin, or rather olive, asyou find men and women among a Celtic people; dark of eye to the pointof a scowl, behind which, however, there was a well of mirth; dark ofhair and dark of beard. His hair he wore long, not being always withinreach of scissors, and his beard had that silky texture which comes ofnever having known a razor.
Once, as the story went, he asked Red Murdo, so-called for sundryreasons besides his tousled red hair, to shave him with the sharp edgeof a dirk. The experiment began so ill that it never actually began atall, and the Black Colonel had a virgin beard in which he took a dueconceit--why not? He thought it manly, where, perhaps he was right,and he had learned in France that women thought it manly, so he wasdoubly right.
The Celts, wherever found, are not generally tall, and the BlackColonel was a pure Celt in body as well as in nature. He wasupstanding, bore himself easily, was clean in line and tough of frame.True, he was long of the leg, among a people who, having to climb anddescend hills constantly, are, in the providence of fitness,short-legged, but he was all of a part. The kilt tests a man's figure,bringing out any flaw in it, and the Black Colonel's stood the testadmirably.
Moreover, he had that physical quality peculiar to the Celt which youmight call elasticity, for it is comparable to a mountain ash whichbends but does not break. There was, too, a fineness, a delicacy abouthim, such as proclaims a race which has dreamt dreams and lived withthe wild glories of Nature. You cannot make common men of hergentlemen, and her women are music to the French chanson, "It's lovethat makes the world go round."
None knew this better than the Black Colonel, a Highlander with thatventuring air which goes to a woman's heart, because she fondly wants aman who will give her the gamble of danger, and yet be strong enough tosave her from herself? You might say that he was born for quest andconquest, what with his suavity of tongue, his grace of manner, hisroguery of eye, and his fame as a great lover.
But I was keeping him waiting and I had no desire to do that, so Isaid, "You may suppose that I am not here very willingly, that it isonly duty which brings me."
"Not official duty, I hope," he answered, with an acid emphasis on thewords.
"No; I simply want, as between Highland gentlemen, to tell you
twothings: first, that I return you, point blank, your overtures touchingour kinswoman, Marget Forbes, and her estate; and, second, this beingdone, that I, as an officer of his Majesty's forces, will unrelentinglydischarge my commission, as best I can, next time we meet, be it soonor not so soon."
I fired out the words as if I had been loaded with them, which, truly,was the case, but I felt, somehow, as if the shot had not gone home.It had no outward effect on the Black Colonel, who turned the peatashes of the fire with his brogued foot, and looked at the little spitsof smoke and flame which flew up. Evidently he was not so unpreparedfor my ultimatum as I had expected, but I had delivered it, and therest was for him.
"Captain Gordon," he said, putting his hands behind his back andlooking hard at me, "I appreciate the sense of personal honour whichhas brought you here. You felt you must clean the private slatebetween us, before you were free to write what is to be on the publicslate. You wanted to give due declaration of war, and you have done itat close quarters, which is the action of a Highland gentleman. But,Captain Gordon, haven't you begun at the end of the story, instead ofat the beginning?"
"I am only concerned with the end of the story, although I haveprobably been foolish in thinking that I must myself bring you news ofit."
"No honourable action is ever lost," he rejoined; "and, however eventsgo, I'll always put this to your credit in the account between us."
"Thank you," said I, laconically, and he moved as if my tone had stunghim, which I did not intend, because even in a war parley one may becorrect--courteous.
"What I wished to say," he went on, "is this: isn't there a way out ofour affairs which shall be creditable to you, nay, to us both, and, atthe same time, be in the public interest? Can't this privaterelationship into which we have drifted, thanks to circumstances, be somanaged that it shall be fair to you as a soldier of King George, aswell as relieve me from my difficulties?"
"Surely, Jock Farquharson," I protested with warmth, "you forget yourplace when you, an outlaw by decree, the doer, by admission, of manywrongs, presume to make terms with a King's officer, even in hisprivate capacity."
"Strong words, my young friend," and he laughed in an airy tone thatstung me; "strong words don't belong to youth, but to the years whenthe blood grows sour. You say outlaw! Why, yes and no; I am a loyalsubject of the King--the King over the water! You say I'm a cateran!Well, I do no more than tax my enemies for what I need, and I needlittle, holding as I do by the simple life, especially as no other isopen to me."
"This," I said stiffly, "is neither the rendezvous nor the time forhigh-flown sentiments, especially if they have no sincerity."
"That," he added, "would be a windy business, and here the die is fartoo serious to be played with, anyhow for me. Let us get down to thehumanities, which are the final element in solving a problem or leavingit unsolved. There need be no personal bitterness between us; merelywe are in antagonism in politics and war, for the two count togetherjust now."
"You are unusually modest to eliminate yourself like that," I cut in,thinking of the Black Colonel's record, but only striking his Highlandpride.
"If it so please me," he said almost angrily, "I can afford to bemodest, for I have done things. I come of good blood; I bear a namewhich is old among the hills; I have carved my way to a colonelcy underthe Stuart flag, where promotion, like kissing, has often gone byfavour, yet sometimes by merit. The Prince himself, when he gave me myrank, called me the Black Colonel in compliment to my beard, whichnobody has ever singed. The Black Colonel I remained when the Stuartarmy melted in the bloody furrows of Culloden, and in truth I have, andneed not deny it, left my name in many quarters. I took it with mewhen I sought the safe retreat of my own corner of the Highlands, amongfriends, and I submit it with pride to you, Captain Ian Gordon."
He was aflame between wrath and egotism, and I was afraid the contagionmight catch me, which was the least desirable thing, because there liesthe road to a losing cause. But, next moment, he laughed and said,"No, no; temper beseems neither high nor low, being kitchen work. Youare sensible enough, Captain Gordon, to let a full man have his talk,and I have not finished yet." He thought for a moment, as if heexpected me to say something, but I only got up from my somewhat hardseat, as if preparing to go.
"Not yet," he said; "stay a little, because, since you are here, itwould be a pity if anything remained unclear between us. I gather thatyou see no course for it but open war, that you refuse the road ofsolution which my proposal about the Forbes estate opens out. Might Iask why you are so unsympathetic to that idea, which would serve everyinterest?"
"I am," I declared hotly, "neither a matchmaker, especially foradventurers, nor a scheming politician, and on both grounds I declineto have anything to do with you. Your insistence compels me to speakwith a plainness which I would rather have avoided, but you must blameyourself. It's a far cry to Loch Awe, and a farther cry to the pardonof the Black Colonel, but he thinks it might be contrived if he hadMarget Forbes and her property for a trump card. A pretty scheme, butnot one which my commission for King George instructs me tocountenance."
Now I, in turn, had gone aflame, despite all my resolve to thecontrary, but if I had spoken the name of Marget Forbes it was, I triedto reflect, as if it had no intimate meaning for me. That would havebeen to blunder doubly, because it would show me personally, nay,intimately, interested.
The Black Colonel had been silent, and, when I ceased talking, Inoticed a strained, even a queer, look in his eye. Was he counting upsome element of the game which, thus far, was unknown to me? For whenthe minds of men rub fiercely against each other, as ours had beendoing, they speak quicker than words. A kind of communication springsup, vague of detail, but unfailing in its general import.
I was not surprised, therefore, when the Black Colonel put his handwithin his coat and drew a paper from a pocket there. But I wassurprised when he said, "I have something here which I owe to thefavour of my friends in the south, and you will find that it bears uponour conversation." He unfolded the paper slowly, I seeing, as he didso, that it was an official paper, and then he handed it to me.
It was not easy to read, in the dim light of the Colonel's Bed, thanksto its crabbed orthography and its long formal phrasing, but graduallyI made out its wording to be this:
"Greetings:
"Whereas, trusty and well-beloved councillors advise it in the interestof our cause in the Scottish Highlands, that influential gentlemen whohave been Jacobite in sympathy, and even act, be won over to OurSettled Sovereignship;
"Therefore it is ordered that they shall, wherever possible, beinstalled in the headship of houses and estates kindred to them, whichhave been forfeit and estreated, all on strict condition of loyalty toOurselves and our Crown for ever;
"And this wisely considered and, in our graciousness of heart, clementpolicy, shall, we instruct, apply to John Farquharson of Inverery,commonly called the Black Colonel, if, and when, he is able toimplement its essence in reference to the Forbes estate of Corgarff inthe far uplands of Aberdeenshire, where we wish to be loyally regardedby our subjects.
"In token of all which foregoing greetings and intimations on our part,herewith witness our royal signature.
"GEORGE REX."
"You understand?" said the Black Colonel, as I lifted my eyes from thedocument and handed it back to him.
I nodded, mechanically, for I was thinking--thinking chiefly of Margetand myself.