NOT long after Callum Beg had been left behind, and indeed almost as
soon as the innkeeper and Edward were fairly on their way, the former
suddenly announced that his horse had fallen lame and that they must
turn aside to a neighbouring smithy to have the matter attended to.
"And as it is the Fast Day, and the smith a religious man, it may cost
your Honour as muckle as sixpence a shoe!" suggested the wily innkeeper,
watching Edward's face as he spoke.
For this announcement Edward cared nothing. He would gladly have paid a
shilling a nail to be allowed to push forward on his journey with all
speed. Accordingly to the smithy of Cairnvreckan they went. The village
was in an uproar. The smith, a fierce-looking man, was busy hammering
"dogs' heads" for musket-locks, while among the surrounding crowd the
names of great Highland chiefs--Clanronald, Glengarry, Lochiel, and that
of Vich Ian Vohr himself, were being bandied from mouth to mouth.
Edward soon found himself surrounded by an excited mob, in the midst of
which the smith's wife, a wild witchlike woman, was dancing, every now
and then casting her child up in the air as high as her arms would
reach, singing all the while, and trying to anger the crowd, and
especially to infuriate her husband, by the Jacobite songs which she
chanted.
At last the smith could stand this provocation no longer. He snatched a
red-hot bar of iron from the forge, and rushed at his wife, crying out
that he would "thrust it down her throat." Then, finding himself held
back by the crowd from executing vengeance on the woman, all his anger
turned upon Edward, whom he took to be a Jacobite emissary. For the news
which had caused all this stir was that Prince Charles had landed and
that the whole Highlands was rallying to his banner.
So fierce and determined was the attack which the angry smith of
Cairnvreckan made on Edward that the young man was compelled to draw his
pistol in self-defence. And as the crowd threatened him and the smith
continued furiously to attack with the red-hot iron, almost
unconsciously his finger pressed the trigger. The shot went off, and
immediately the smith fell to the ground. Then Edward, borne down by the
mob, was for some time in great danger of his life. He was saved at last
by the interference of the minister of the parish, a kind and gentle old
man, who caused Edward's captors to treat him more tenderly. So that
instead of executing vengeance upon the spot as they had proposed, they
brought him before the nearest magistrate, who was, indeed, an old
military officer, and, in addition, the Laird of the village of
Cairnvreckan, one Major Melville by name.
[Illustration: "SO fierce and determined was the attack which the angry
smith of Cairnvreckan made on Edward that the young man was compelled to
draw his pistol in self-defence."]
The latter proved to be a stern soldier, so severe in manner that he
often became unintentionally unjust. Major Melville found that though
the blacksmith's wound proved to be a mere scratch, and though he had to
own that the provocation given was a sufficient excuse for Edward's
hasty action, yet he must detain the young man prisoner upon the warrant
issued against Edward Waverley, which had been sent out by the Supreme
Court of Scotland.
Edward, who at once owned to his name, was astonished beyond words to
find that not only was he charged with being in the company of actual
rebels, such as the Baron of Bradwardine and Vich Ian Vohr, but also
with trying to induce his troop of horse to revolt by means of private
letters addressed to one of them, Sergeant Houghton, in their barracks
at Dundee. Captain Waverley was asserted to have effected this through
the medium of a pedlar named Will Ruthven, or Wily Will--whose very name
Edward had never heard up to that moment.
As the magistrate's examination proceeded, Waverley was astonished to
find that, instead of clearing himself, everything he said, every
article he carried about his person, was set down by Major Melville as
an additional proof of his complicity with treason. Among these figured
Flora's verses, his own presence at the great hunting match among the
mountains, his father's and Sir Everard's letters, even the huge
manuscripts written by his tutor (of which he had never read six
pages)--all were brought forward as so many evidences of his guilt.
Finally, the magistrate informed Edward that he would be compelled to
detain him a prisoner in his house of Cairnvreckan. But that if he would
furnish such information as it was doubtless in his power to give
concerning the forces and plans of Vich Ian Vohr and the other Highland
chiefs, he might, after a brief detention, be allowed to go free. Edward
fiercely exclaimed that he would die rather than turn informer against
those who had been his friends and hosts. Whereupon, having refused all
hospitality, he was conducted to a small room, there to be guarded till
there was a chance of sending him under escort to the Castle of
Stirling.
Here he was visited by Mr. Morton, the minister who had saved him from
the clutches of the mob, and so sympathetically and kindly did he speak,
that Edward told him his whole story from the moment when he had first
left Waverley-Honour. And though the minister's favourable report did
not alter the opinion Major Melville had formed of Edward's treason, it
softened his feelings toward the young man so much that he invited him
to dinner, and afterwards did his best to procure him favourable
treatment from the Westland Whig captain, Mr. Gifted Gilfillan, who
commanded the party which was to convoy him to Stirling Castle.
The escort which was to take Edward southward was not so strong as it
might have been. Part of Captain Gifted Gilfillan's command had stayed
behind to hear a favourite preacher upon the occasion of the afternoon
Fast Day service at Cairnvreckan. Others straggled for purposes of their
own, while as they went along, their leader lectured Edward upon the
fewness of those that should be saved. Heaven, he informed Edward, would
be peopled exclusively by the members of his own denomination. Captain
Gifted was still engaged in condemning all and sundry belonging to the
Churches of England and Scotland, when a stray pedlar joined his party
and asked of "his Honour" the favour of his protection as far as
Stirling, urging as a reason the uncertainty of the times and the value
of the property he carried in his pack.
The pedlar, by agreeing with all that was said, and desiring further
information upon spiritual matters, soon took the attention of Captain
Gifted Gilfillan from his prisoner. He declared that he had even
visited, near Mauchline, the very farm of the Whig leader. He
congratulated him upon the fine breed of cattle he possessed. Then he
went on to speak of the many evil, popish, and unchristian things he had
seen in his travels as a pedlar over the benighted countries of Europe.
Whereupon Gifted Gilfillan became so pleased with his companion and so
enraptured with his subject, that he allowed his party to string itself
out along the route without an attempt at discipline, or even the power
of supporting each other in case of attack.
The leaders were ascending a little hill covered with whin bushes and
crowned with low brushwood, when, after looking about him quickly to
note some landmarks, the pedlar put his fingers to his mouth and
whistled. He explained that he was whistling on a favourite dog, named
Bawty, which he had lost. The Covenanter reproved him severely for
thinking of a useless dog in the midst of such precious and improving
conversation as they were holding together.
But in spite of his protests the pedlar persisted in his whistling, and
presently, out of a copse close to the path, six or eight stout
Highlanders sprang upon them brandishing their claymores.
"The Sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" shouted Gifted Gilfillan, nothing
daunted. And he was proceeding to lay about him stoutly, when the
pedlar, snatching a musket, felled him to the ground with the butt. The
scattered Whig party hurried up to support their leader. In the scuffle,
Edward's horse was shot, and he himself somewhat bruised in falling.
Whereupon some of the Highlanders took him by the arms, and
half-supported, half-carried him away from the highroad, leaving the
unconscious Gifted still stretched on the ground. The Westlanders, thus
deprived of a leader, did not even attempt a pursuit, but contented
themselves with sending a few dropping shots after the Highlanders,
which, of course, did nobody any harm.
They carried Edward fully two miles, and it was not till they reached
the deep covert of a distant glen that they stopped with their burden.
Edward spoke to them repeatedly, but the only answer he got was that
they "had no English." Even the mention of the name of Vich Ian Vohr,
which he had hitherto regarded as a talisman, produced no response.
Moreover, Edward could see from the tartans of his captors that they
were not of the Clan Ivor. Nor did the hut, into which they presently
conveyed our hero, reveal any more. Edward was placed in a large bed,
planked all round, and after his bruises were attended to by an old
woman, the sliding panel was shut upon him. A kind of fever set his
ideas wandering, and sometimes he fancied that he heard the voice of
Flora Mac-Ivor speaking in the hut without. He tried to push back the
panel, but the inmates had secured it on the outside with a large nail.
Waverley remained some time in these narrow quarters, ministered to by
the old woman and at intervals hearing the same gentle girlish voice
speaking outside, without, however, ever being able to see its owner. At
last, after several days, two of the Highlanders who had first captured
him returned, and by signs informed him that he must get ready to follow
them immediately.
At this news Edward, thoroughly tired of his confinement, rejoiced, and,
upon rising, found himself sufficiently well to travel. He was seated in
the smoky cottage quietly waiting the signal for departure, when he felt
a touch on his arm, and, turning, he found himself face to face with
Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean. With a quick movement she
showed him the edges of a bundle of papers which she as swiftly
concealed. She then laid her finger on her lips, and glided away to
assist old Janet, his nurse, in packing his saddle-bags. With the tail
of his eye, however, Edward saw the girl fold the papers among his linen
without being observed by the others. This being done, she took no
further notice of him whatever, except that just at the last, as she was
leaving the cottage, she turned round and gave him a smile and nod of
farewell.
The tall Highlander who was to lead the party now made Edward understand
that there was considerable danger on the way. He must follow without
noise, and do exactly as he was bidden. A steel pistol and a broadsword
were given him for use in case of attack. The party had not been long
upon its night journeying, moving silently along through the woods and
copses in Indian file, before Edward found that there was good reason
for this precaution.
At no great distance he heard the cry of an English sentinel, "All's
well!" Again and again the cry was taken up by other sentries till the
sound was lost in the distance. The enemy was very near, but the trained
senses of the Highlanders in their own rugged country were more than a
match for the discipline of the regulars.
A little farther on they passed a large building, with lights still
twinkling in the windows. Presently the tall Highlander stood up and
sniffed. Then motioning Waverley to do as he did, he began to crawl on
all fours toward a low and ruinous sheep-fold. With some difficulty
Edward obeyed, and with so much care was the stalk conducted, that
presently, looking over a stone wall, he could see an outpost of five or
six soldiers lying round their camp-fire, while in front a sentinel
paced backward and forward, regarding the heavens and whistling _Nancy
Dawson_ as placidly as if he were a hundred miles from any wild rebel
Highlandmen.
At that moment the moon, which up to this time had been hidden behind
clouds, shone out clear and bright. So Edward and his Highland guide had
perforce to remain where they were, stuck up against the dike, not
daring to continue their journey in the full glare of light, while the
Highlander muttered curses on "MacFarlane's lanthorn," as he called the
moon.
At last the Highlander, motioning Edward to stay where he was, began
with infinite pains to worm his way backward on all fours, taking
advantage of every bit of cover, lying stock-still behind a boulder
while the sentry was looking in his direction, and again crawling
swiftly to a more distant bush as often as he turned his back or marched
the other way. Presently Edward lost sight of the Highlander, but before
long he came out again at an altogether different part of the thicket,
in full view of the sentinel, at whom he immediately fired a shot--the
bullet wounding the soldier on the arm, stopping once and for all the
whistling of _Nancy Dawson_.
Then all the soldiers, awakened by the shot and their comrade's cry,
advanced alertly toward the spot where the tall man had been seen. He
had, however, retired, but continued to give them occasionally such a
view of his figure in the open moonlight, as to lead them yet farther
from the path.
Meanwhile, taking advantage of their leader's ruse, Waverley and his
attendants made good speed over the heather till they got behind a
rising ground, from which, however, they could still hear the shouts of
the pursuers, and the more distant roll of the royal drums beating to
arms. They had not gone far before they came upon an encampment in a
hollow. Here several Highlanders, with a horse or two, lay concealed.
They had not arrived very long before the tall Highlander, who had led
the soldiers such a dance, made his appearance quite out of breath, but
laughing gayly at the ease with which he had tricked his pursuers.
Edward was now mounted on a stout pony, and the whole party set forward
at a good round pace, accompanied by the Highlanders as an escort. They
continued without molestation all the night, till, in the morning light,
they saw a tall old castle on the opposite bank of the river, upon the
battlements of which they could see the plaid and targe of a Highland
sentry, and over which floated the white banner of the exiled Stuarts.
They passed through a small town, and presently were admitted into the
courtyard of the ancient fortress, where Edward was courteously
received by a chief in full dress and wearing a white cockade. He showed
Waverley directly to a half-ruinous apartment where, however, there was
a small camp bed. Here he was about to leave him, after asking him what
refreshment he would take, when Edward, who had had enough of mysteries,
requested that he might be told where he was.
"You are in the castle of Doune, in the district of Menteith," said the
governor of the castle, "and you are in no danger whatever. I command
here for his Royal Highness Prince Charles."
At last it seemed to Waverley as if he had reached a place of rest and
safety. But it was not to be. On the very next day he was put in charge
of a detachment of irregular horsemen who were making their way eastward
to join the forces of the Prince. The leader of this band was no other
than the Laird of Balmawhapple, who, backing words by deeds, had
mustered his grooms and huntsmen in the cause of the Stuarts. Edward
attempted to speak civilly to him, but found himself brutally repulsed.
Captain Falconer of Balmawhapple had noways forgotten the shrewd pinch
in the sword-arm which he had received from the Baron of Bradwardine in
Waverley's quarrel.
At first Edward had better luck with his Lieutenant, a certain
horse-coper or dealer. This man had sold Balmawhapple the chargers upon
which to mount his motley array, and seeing no chance of getting his
money except by "going out" himself, he had accepted the post of
Lieutenant in the Chevalier's army. So far good. But just at the moment
when it seemed that our hero was about to get some information of a
useful sort, Balmawhapple rode up, and demanded of his Lieutenant if he
had not heard his orders that no one should speak to the prisoner.
After that they marched in silence, till, as the little company of
adventurers was passing Stirling Castle, Balmawhapple must needs sound
his trumpet and display his white banner. This bravado, considerably to
that gentleman's discomfiture, was answered at once by a burst of smoke
from the Castle, and the next moment a cannon-ball knocked up the earth
a few feet from the Captain's charger, and covered Balmawhapple himself
with dirt and stones. An immediate retreat of the command took place
without having been specially ordered.
As they approached Edinburgh, they could see that white wreaths of smoke
circled the Castle. The cannonade rolled continuously. Balmawhapple,
however, warned by what had happened at Stirling, gave the Castle a wide
berth, and finally, without having entered the city, he delivered up
his prisoner at the door of the ancient palace of Holyrood.
And so, for the time being, Edward's adventures in the wild Highlands
were ended.