THINGS MEND A LITTLE
About noon Mr. Morton returned and brought an invitation from
Major Melville that Mr. Waverley would honour him with his company
to dinner, notwithstanding the unpleasant affair which detained
him at Cairnvreckan, from which he should heartily rejoice to see
Mr. Waverley completely extricated. The truth was that Mr.
Morton's favourable report and opinion had somewhat staggered the
preconceptions of the old soldier concerning Edward's supposed
accession to the mutiny in the regiment; and in the unfortunate
state of the country the mere suspicion of disaffection or an
inclination to join the insurgent Jacobites might infer
criminality indeed, but certainly not dishonour. Besides, a person
whom the Major trusted had reported to him (though, as it proved,
inaccurately) a contradiction of the agitating news of the
preceding evening. According to this second edition of the
intelligence, the Highlanders had withdrawn from the Lowland
frontier with the purpose of following the army in their march to
Inverness. The Major was at a loss, indeed, to reconcile his
information with the well-known abilities of some of the gentlemen
in the Highland army, yet it was the course which was likely to be
most agreeable to others. He remembered the same policy had
detained them in the north in the year 1715, and he anticipated a
similar termination to the insurrection as upon that occasion.
This news put him in such good-humour that he readily acquiesced
in Mr. Morton's proposal to pay some hospitable attention to his
unfortunate guest, and voluntarily added, he hoped the whole
affair would prove a youthful escapade, which might be easily
atoned by a short confinement. The kind mediator had some trouble
to prevail on his young friend to accept the invitation. He dared
not urge to him the real motive, which was a good-natured wish to
secure a favourable report of Waverley's case from Major Melville
to Governor Blakeney. He remarked, from the flashes of our hero's
spirit, that touching upon this topic would be sure to defeat his
purpose. He therefore pleaded that the invitation argued the
Major's disbelief of any part of the accusation which was
inconsistent with Waverley's conduct as a soldier and a man of
honour, and that to decline his courtesy might be interpreted into
a consciousness that it was unmerited. In short, he so far
satisfied Edward that the manly and proper course was to meet the
Major on easy terms that, suppressing his strong dislike again to
encounter his cold and punctilious civility, Waverley agreed to be
guided by his new friend.
The meeting at first was stiff and formal enough. But Edward,
having accepted the invitation, and his mind being really soothed
and relieved by the kindness of Morton, held himself bound to
behave with ease, though he could not affect cordiality. The Major
was somewhat of a bon vivant, and his wine was excellent. He told
his old campaign stories, and displayed much knowledge of men and
manners. Mr. Morton had an internal fund of placid and quiet
gaiety, which seldom failed to enliven any small party in which he
found himself pleasantly seated. Waverley, whose life was a dream,
gave ready way to the predominating impulse and became the most
lively of the party. He had at all times remarkable natural powers
of conversation, though easily silenced by discouragement. On the
present occasion he piqued himself upon leaving on the minds of
his companions a favourable impression of one who, under such
disastrous circumstances, could sustain his misfortunes with ease
and gaiety. His spirits, though not unyielding, were abundantly
elastic, and soon seconded his efforts. The trio were engaged in
very lively discourse, apparently delighted with each other, and
the kind host was pressing a third bottle of Burgundy, when the
sound of a drum was heard at some distance. The Major, who, in the
glee of an old soldier, had forgot the duties of a magistrate,
cursed, with a muttered military oath, the circumstances which
recalled him to his official functions. He rose and went towards
the window, which commanded a very near view of the highroad, and
he was followed by his guests.
The drum advanced, beating no measured martial tune, but a kind of
rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which the fire-drum startles the
slumbering artizans of a Scotch burgh. It is the object of this
history to do justice to all men; I must therefore record, in
justice to the drummer, that he protested he could beat any known
march or point of war known in the British army, and had
accordingly commenced with 'Dumbarton's Drums,' when he was
silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the commander of the party, who
refused to permit his followers to move to this profane, and even,
as he said, persecutive tune, and commanded the drummer to beat
the 119th Psalm. As this was beyond the capacity of the drubber of
sheepskin, he was fain to have recourse to the inoffensive row-de-
dow as a harmless substitute for the sacred music which his
instrument or skill were unable to achieve. This may be held a
trifling anecdote, but the drummer in question was no less than
town-drummer of Anderton. I remember his successor in office, a
member of that enlightened body, the British Convention. Be his
memory, therefore, treated with due respect.