The Black Colonel

by James Milne

  _IX.--'Twixt Night and Morn_

  They declare that if you are drowning, or otherwise at the crack o'doom, your whole life's record leaps through your mind in an instant.It may be so, Providence giving a man, however his balance-sheetstands, a last chance to square it fair and well.

  Everybody being gone home, and I being alone, after our dizzy ball, Ifelt that I had to count up the position. It needed no effort tounderstand that the Black Colonel's purpose in invading me had been tomeet Marget and her mother, to impress himself upon them, all in theinterest of his designs. He had relied for safety upon the temporarystate of neutrality which the ball carried with it, and he had come, hehad seen, he had--what? So far my thoughts convoyed me. But my littleroom in the castle with its cell-like windows, its low ceiling, even, Iwould add, its sense of plain refinement, worried me, and I went outinto the night and the spaciousness of earth and heaven. Oh, forfreedom to breathe and think, and oh for it at that witching time whennight and day hold their bridal of mating among the Highland hills.

  It was the hour, in our altitudes, at which night sleeps her heaviest,as if to snatch the last wink from the breaking morn. Nature wassuperbly at rest, sloughing the worn trappings of yesterday, preparingthe shining armour of the morrow. It was the hour of creation, thewonder-coming of a child into the world, magnified beyond imagining, atender life, very, very beautiful. It cried to my soul, seeking thehumblest companionship for its own great soul, playing upon mine with atouch of incomparable delicacy.

  And yet, yet, the chief feeling was almost that of a paganism, of anearth-smell and an earth-worship, of a giant awakening from torpor,ravenous with hunger. It was all the grand savagery, the terriblestrength of Mother Earth, the Great Protector, from whose loins I hadsprung, but who is unspeakably awesome until you see her face in therising sun. Then the nightmare of the darkness which empalls her witha cold sense of death, turns into a radiance as of gold and kindness.

  Ah! it was worth while to be abroad among the heather and the fir-treesat dawn, for the virgin world, the pagan, freed from cerements andfound in the twilight to be a god, was all my own, mine to enjoy. Ithink I know why primitive man, when he lived in lands where Nature waswild and the nights were long, was a resolute pagan. No light, nowarmth of its torch, had he to set the fire of reverence in himburning, and reverence is the footstool of belief in God. I think Ialso know why the other primitive man of the south, dwelling in a landof the sun, would be a sun-worshipper: because it gave him reverenceand drew it from him.

  We fear endless things when it is dark, the stoutest-hearted of us,but, in the geniality of a shining sun, we have courage. The picture,in ancient Greek legend, of husband and wife, one of them about to die,taking a long farewell as the dipping sun-rays gilt Olympus at itshighest peaks, has often seemed to me a fine linking of the night ofpaganism and the morn of sunlit faith.

  Odd thoughts to run in a man's head as he walked the dew-damp heather,careless which track he took, conscious only that he sought a newmorning. But you do think strange thoughts if you have in you any ofthe dreamy Celt and have been born and nurtured in the cradle of thehills. They infect you, I will not say with second sight, though therehave been proved instances, but with their own moods, like asoft-falling foot, which, in our spiritual pilgrimage, is the Foot ofFate.

  My step lightly touched the heather, but, even so, my way was marked bya disturbance of the birds and animals of the wild. A grouse ran witha flutter and took wing with a cry, half in protest at being wakenedfrom its sleep, half in alarm at my presence. A rabbit rushed from asheltering hole in such a hurry that, as I could tell by its clatteramong the bracken, it nearly fell over itself, as rabbits clumsily do,making fluffy, woolly balls of themselves.

  When there is danger about, Nature gives all her children of the open achance to escape by instantly warning them, and, in this, alarmingtheir instinct. My particular rabbit had scarcely run out of hearingwhen half a dozen others were scurrying hither and thither in the sameexpectant confusion. Poor little things! What a fluster they made,and their scare communicated itself to a crow in a solitary fir-tree,against which I nearly collided. He croaked, flapped his wings andsailed off heavily, blackly, also anxious for safety.

  Now, by the sheer exercise of walking, I had spent my restlessness, andthe hill air had driven the blood from my head. Moreover, I grewtired, for the road tells when you have to pick your steps in the dark,over rough ground. So, coming upon a fir-tree root, I made a seat ofit, and waited for night to fully turn into day, a transformation whichcame swiftly.

  We have all seen the first flicker of a piece of tinder, fired by abeaten flint. It is like something come, only to go again, butpresently it passes into a stronger flame, and then into light. Thisis the awakening of a Highland day, when the conditions resemble thoseof that morning.

  The heavy pall of clouds, lying low over the hills, seemed to takemotion, for trifling rents appeared in them. The rents grew bigger,and then the stars, which had been shining all the time in the welkinabove, began to look through those peep-holes. It was the sun settingto work upon the earth once more, our side of the globe returning tohis rays and warmth.

  Slowly I looked about me, like one roused from a half-dream, seeing thenear things first, and, as the dawn grew, ranging for the far things.Beneath me lay a glen pavilioned in the splendour of the rising sun,and gilded with the praise of the hills. Browns and reds and greensswam before my eyes into a radiant landscape, along which flowed thewater of Don, a ribbon of silver, whose surface the fat trout wouldpresently be breaking. Beside it wandered the road, on which,presently, to my astonishment, I made out two figures. Who could theybe, there, at that time?

  When I left Corgarff Castle I had, out of habit, slung my spyglass overmy shoulder, and I set it towards the men. One was in the tartan of myown regiment, the other in a tartan of darkish green with a red stripein it, like the Farquharson tartan. I made out, by their actions, thatthey were quarrelling, so I started for them, and who do you think Ifound? My own sergeant and the Black Colonel's Red Murdo.

  "What are you men doing and how are you here?" I asked abruptly, for Iwas breathless, as well as surprised and angry.

  The sergeant's answer was a salute, for he had not time to speak beforeRed Murdo was launched on a torrent of indignant words. He had, hesaid, come over to the ball in attendance on the Black Colonel, as Imight know. He intended to depart with him, but had taken more of myhospitality--stout fellow!--than he could carry, which delayed hisdeparture. Some of my men had old scores against him, old crows topick with him, particularly this sergeant, who, therefore, had followedhim, determined to have the quarrel out: "While I," quoth Red Murdo,"only want to go quietly home."

  "What's the quarrel?" I demanded of the sergeant.

  "Well," he replied quaintly, "it does na' matter what it is, tho' hekens, as lang's we settle who's the better man. He's up to everydodge, but there's no room for that wi' only the twa o's here."

  "And what were you doing when I arrived? What was about to happen?" Iasked.

  "We were jist arguin' which was the better man," declared the sergeant,"and I was na' goin' to leave it at that. A deceesion for me; hebeggit to be let awa'!"

  "Beggit!" broke in Red Murdo; "beggit anything from you, my man! Na,na; I was beggin' you to return to Corgarff Castle in case somethinghappen't to you. You wid'na', as I tell ye, be the first red-coat onwhose hide I had left a mark. But I was forbearin', because I did na'want trouble to follow Captain Ian's kindness in askin' us to the balllast evening."

  Red Murdo glanced at me, as if he expected me to side with him, but mythoughts were not yet for words. You can best hold a judicial air whenyou say little, give no reasons, and here I had to be judge and jury.For the quarrel, if it was carried to a violent end, might haveunfortunate results on the general peace of the country. It would notdo to have my sergeant killing Red Murdo in single combat, or Red Murdokilling my sergeant, certainly not with
me looking on.

  If you happen to know some legal jingle of words you can almostcertainly pacify the raw man of strife, by gravely reciting it at him.Sheriffs, procurators-fiscal, bailies and others accustomed to takeoaths, and sometimes to say them, will confirm this curious influenceof formality. Partly it impresses, and it will surely confuse, andthen the subject can be led to a better frame of mind.

  So I thought of the oath banning the Highland dress, which, in theunwisdom of our over-lords, exercised by right of force, a Jacobiterebel had to take, before he could get a pardon. It had an officialplace among the papers of my office, and there I had let it rest, but Iloathed it so much that its language had bitten itself into my mind.

  How this foully conceived oath had fired the spirit of a people proudto wear their tartans, because of the Highland sentiment which theyclothed! But to use it to compass a private quarrel, to twist itspossible tragedy into healing honour, that was appealing! My sergeantI must support outwardly, and my stratagem would secure this, withoutputting Red Murdo in peril. He, probably, had a secret inkling that Iwas searching for a way out, because he kept looking, looking at me,even while he talked and talked.

  "You know the law?" I slowly addressed him.

  "Only like my master," he said, "by breakin' it."

  "You know that any man who has been in rebellion against his MajestyKing George may be apprehended on sight, tried, punished and executed."

  "If you say that it'll be so, but it does na' interest me; I tak' myorders frae the Chief of Inverey, nae frae King George or his officers,least o' all a mere sergeant."

  "Still," I went on, "you will perceive that he was doing his duty, orwhat he thinks his duty." Red Murdo's look suggested that he thought Iwas rambling, but I went on sharply; "and in the exercise of his dutyhe is entitled to all the support of his superior officer."

  The sergeant's face beamed with approval, as if he had been discoveredin an act of great public advantage and was to be rewarded[Transcriber's note: a line appears to be missing from the book here.]that of Red Murdo simply asked, "What are you driving at?"

  "Now," I said, lifting my right hand in the manner of judges, "I amgoing to administer an oath to you, and when you have taken it all willbe well and you shall go your way."

  "What sort o' oath," he asked; "what has it to do wi' me, who's onlyconcern't wi' the Black Cornel's oaths? Tell it to me, first."

  "Very well, listen," and with as much solemnity as I could muster Irepeated the words of the oath:

  "I do swear, as I shall answer to God at the Great Day of Judgment, Ihave not, nor shall have, in my possession, any gun, sword or armwhatsoever, and never use tartan, plaid, or any part of the Highlandgarb; and if I do so, may I be cursed in my undertakings, family andproperty; may I never see my wife and children, father, mother orrelations; may I be killed in battle as a coward, and lie withoutChristian burial, in a strange land, far from the graves of myforefathers and kindred: may all this come across me if I break myoath."

  Red Murdo kept looking at me, mute, perhaps impressed; anyhow, hepresently asked, "What if I refuse?"

  "The penalties laid down by law," I told him, still solemnly, "are sixmonths in prison for a first offence and transportation beyond the seasfor a second."

  "A device o' the devil and King George," grunted Red Murdo, and Ishould have been glad to agree with him, only I had to play the gameout.

  "Will you take the legal oath?"

  "Never. It's what I suppose the sergeant was goin' to cram doon mythroat an' he could, the same infernal thing. Never, frae you, or him,or the pair o' ye."

  This was a turn I had not expected, and I was wondering what to do nextwhen Red Murdo said, "I'll tell ye what I'll dae. I'll wrestle thesergeant which o's will eat a copy of that ugly oath, and that'll alsosatisfy him who's the better man."

  The sergeant did not show an instant keenness for this challenge, butit got me round a corner, and must be accepted. I declared to thateffect, and desired both men to get ready, saying I would be umpire. Iadded that there should be only one bout because, secretly, I had nowish to see them hurt one another.

  Red Murdo and the sergeant put their plaids, their jackets, theirbonnets, their sporans, and their brogues, in little heaps, with eachman's weapons above each man's things. Neither spoke, for action,which naturally has the effect of sealing the tongue, had now arrived,and I chose a level piece of sward where they might fall withcomparative softness.

  When I saw how nearly they were matched in physique, the spirit ofprimitive combat in me began to be interested, to calculate who wouldwin. True to the fighting tactics he knew Red Murdo rushed to grips,but the sergeant drove him off, and they manoeuvred round each otherfor the next effort. It was pretty to see them, that bright morning,with the whole picturesque valley for arena and I for the onlyspectator of their prowess. Moreover, they were warming to the fight,which was one between the disciplined strength and skill of the soldierand the wild agility of Red Murdo.

  Those different qualities met so evenly that feint, and catch and heaveas each combatant would, the other remained unthrown. Once Red Murdogot his antagonist by the waist, lifted him clean off the ground andwhirled him round like a totum, only to have him alight on his feet.Once, also, the sergeant, by a supple twist of arm and leg, workingtogether, got Red Murdo half down and no more. Really it was a toss-upwho should win, or whether there would be a winner at all.

  My only ground of interference would be foul play, and although theywent at each other almost savagely there was no absolute act of thatkind. But the strain was telling on both men, for they took no rest,and hardly waited to get fresh breath. The sinews of their legs stoodout like whip-cord, their chest heaved like bellows in distress, theirnecks were scarlet with the tumult of the blood there. Only theunexpected would make a victor or a loser, and the unexpected did nothappen, as it does sometimes.

  Red Murdo tried a last torrential rush, but the sergeant withstood it,and they merely locked themselves together. Nay, they were now soexhausted that they could only hang on to each other for support, aspectacle which brought me to their side. Their bulging eyes stared atme with the pleading look which a horse has after being driven too farand too fast. When I divided them by a touch of my hand they both fellto the ground like logs and so lay.

  Honour was satisfied, the hated oath of the kilt had not to be eaten byanybody, and I was glad.