ONE event deeply stirred all Solway-side in the year of Colonel
Mannering's arrival at Woodbourne--the smugglers had returned in force,
and proved themselves ripe for any desperate act. Their stronghold was
as of old, the Isle of Man, from which they could descend in a few hours
upon the Solway coasts. Stricter laws and more severe penalties had only
rendered them fiercer than of old, and in case of need, they did not
hesitate in the least to shed blood.
As of yore also, their leader was the savage Dirk Hatteraick, under whom
served a Lieutenant named Brown. One of their first exploits was a
daring attack upon the house of Woodbourne, where dwelt Colonel
Mannering with his daughter and Lucy Bertram.
It happened thus. Mannering, in company with young Charles Hazlewood,
was setting out for a loch some miles away to look at the skaters.
Hazlewood had quite often come to visit the house of Woodbourne since
Lucy Bertram went to live there. Suddenly a few men, each leading a
laden horse, burst through the bushes, and, pressing straight across the
lawn, made for the front door. Mannering hastened to demand what they
wanted. They were revenue officers, they said, and as they knew that
Colonel Mannering had served in the East, they called upon him in the
King's name to protect them and their captures.
To this Mannering instantly agreed. No time was to be lost. The
smugglers were hot in pursuit, strongly reinforced. Immediately the
goods were piled in the hall. The windows were blocked up with cushions,
pillows, and (what caused the Dominie many a groan) great folios out of
the library, bound in wood, covered with leather, and studded with
brazen bosses like a Highland targe.
While these preparations were being made within the house of Woodbourne
the steady earth-shaking beat of a body of horsemen was heard
approaching, and in a few minutes a body of thirty mounted men rushed
out upon the lawn, brandishing weapons and uttering savage yells. Most
of them had their heads tied up in coloured handkerchiefs, while many
wore masks by way of disguising themselves.
Finding the mansion in an unexpected state of defence, they halted a
moment, as if to take counsel together. But finally one of them, his
face all blackened with soot, dismounted and came forward, waving a
white cloth in his hand.
Colonel Mannering immediately threw up a window, and asked the smuggler
what he wanted.
"We want our goods, of which we have been robbed by these sharks," cried
the man with the blackened face, "and we mean to have them. If you give
them up, we will go away quietly without harming any one, but if you
refuse, then we will burn the house and have the life-blood of every
soul under your roof."
This he swore with many horrible and cruel oaths.
"If you do not instantly ride off my lawn," answered Colonel Mannering,
"I will fire upon you without any further warning!"
The Ambassador returned to his troop, and no sooner had he told them the
Colonel's answer than they rushed forward to the attack with horrid
yells. Three volleys were fired, shattering the window-glass in all
directions, but, thanks to the Colonel's preparations, the slugs and
bullets rattled harmlessly against his defences. Many of the smugglers
now dismounted and advanced with axe and crow-bar to force the front
door. It was time for those within to take action.
"Let only Charles Hazlewood and myself shoot!" said the Colonel,
"Hazlewood, do you mark the Ambassador. I will take the commander of the
rascals--the man on the grey horse, whom they call their Lieutenant!"
Both men fell as the shots rang out. Astonished by this reception, the
smugglers retreated, carrying with them their wounded. It was one of
these whom Captain Brown saw die in the little ruined keep at Derncleugh
the night when he was overtaken in the darkness--indeed, that very
namesake of his own, Brown, the mate of Hatteraick's vessel.
There were many who thought that after this Captain Mannering ought to
remove his family out of danger. But that gentleman confined himself to
taking greater precautions at locking-up time, and insisting that when
the ladies went out walking, a gun should be carried by an attendant for
their protection.
One day Julia Mannering and Lucy Bertram had gone out with young Charles
Hazlewood to visit a small lake much frequented by skaters and curlers,
while a servant followed behind with a gun.
It chanced that Lucy, who never kept Hazlewood's arm when she could
avoid it, had dropped behind as they were passing along a narrow path
through a pine plantation. Julia Mannering was therefore alone at
Charles Hazlewood's side when Brown suddenly appeared from among the
trees, right in their path. He was roughly dressed, and young
Hazlewood, taking him for one of the smugglers, and mistaking the
meaning of Julia's cry of surprise at seeing her lover, snatched the gun
from the servant, and haughtily ordered Brown to stand back so as not to
alarm the lady. Brown, piqued at finding Julia on the arm of a stranger,
replied as haughtily that he did not require to take lessons from
Hazlewood how to behave to any lady. Instantly Charles Hazlewood pointed
the gun at his breast. Upon which Brown sprang upon him, and in the
struggle the gun went off by accident, and Hazlewood fell to the ground
wounded. Brown, anxious not to bring Julia Mannering into the affair, at
once sprang over the hedge and disappeared.
[Illustration: "HE was roughly dressed, and young Hazlewood, taking him
for one of the smugglers, and mistaking the meaning of Julia's cry of
surprise at seeing her lover, snatched the gun from the servant, and
haughtily ordered Brown to stand back so as not to alarm the lady."]
Hazlewood's wound was, happily, not serious, and being an honest open
young fellow, he was the first to own himself in the wrong. Nothing of
importance would have come of the affair, but for the officiousness of
Glossin, the new Laird of Ellangowan, who saw in it a way of
ingratiating himself with the two powerful families of Mannering and
Hazlewood.
Glossin began by questioning the landlady of the hotel where Brown had
been staying. Then he tried to draw out the postboy. From them he
gathered little, save the fact that a young man named Brown had been
staying at the Gordon Arms at Kippletringan. On the day of the accident
to Charles Hazlewood, Brown had taken the postboy with him to show him
the skating and curling on the pond in the neighbourhood of which the
supposed attack had taken place. Jock Jabos, the postboy, however,
denied that "the stoutest man in Scotland could take a gun frae him and
shoot him wi' it, though he was but a feckless little body, fit only for
the outside o' a saddle or the fore-end of a post-chaise. Na, nae living
man wad venture on the like o' that!"
So Glossin, in order the better to carry out his plans, pretended to
believe that Brown was the Lieutenant of the gang which had assaulted
the house of Woodbourne.
Much more to the point was the information which was waiting for Glossin
on his return to his house of Ellangowan. Mac-Guffog, the county
thief-taker, and two of his people were there. With them they had
brought a prisoner, whom they had first beguiled into drink, and then
easily handcuffed while asleep. Glossin was delighted. He was under a
great hope that this might prove to be Brown himself. Instead, he
recognised an old acquaintance--no other than Dirk Hatteraick, the
smuggler. In the interview which followed, Dirk told Glossin some facts
which made him tremble. His possession of Ellangowan was threatened. The
true heir, the young lad Harry Bertram, lost on the night of the murder
of Frank Kennedy, had not perished as had been supposed. He had been
brought up by the principal partner of the Dutch firm to which he had
been bound apprentice, sent to the East Indies under the name of
Vanbeest Brown, and he was at that very moment upon the coast of
Solway--it might be very near to Ellangowan itself.
Glossin saw his hopes wither before his eyes. If the heir should find
out his rights, then the fruits of his villany, the estate of Ellangowan
itself, must return to its true owner. The lawyer secretly gave Dirk
Hatteraick a small file with which to rid himself of his irons, and then
bade his captors confine him in the strong-room of the ancient castle.
"The stanchions are falling to pieces with rust," he whispered to Dirk,
"the distance to the ground is not twelve feet, and the snow lies thick.
After that, you must steal my boat which lies below in the cove, and
wait till I come to you in the cave of the Wood of Warroch!"
So saying, he called the thief-takers in, and made his arrangements.
Glossin could not sleep that night. Eagerly he watched the window of the
old castle. He heard the iron bars fall outward upon the rocks with a
clinking sound, and feared that all was lost. The light in the window
was obscured, and presently he saw a black object drop upon the snow.
Then the little boat put out from the harbour, the wind caught the sail,
and she bore away in the direction of Warroch Point.
On the morrow, however, he overwhelmed Mac-Guffog with the full force of
his anger for his carelessness in allowing his prisoner to escape. Then
he sent his men off in different directions, as fast as they could, to
retake Hatteraick--in all directions, that is, except the true one.
Having thus disposed of the thief-takers, he set out for Warroch Head
alone. But the marks of his feet in the snow startled him. Any officer,
coming upon that trail, would run it up like a bloodhound. So he changed
his path, descending the cliff, and making his way cautiously along the
sea-beach where the snow did not lie. He passed the great boulder which
had fallen with Frank Kennedy. It was now all overgrown with mussels and
seaweed. The mouth of the cave opened black and dismal before him.
Glossin drew breath before entering such a haunt of iniquity, and
recharged his pistols. He was, however, somewhat heartened by the
thought that Dirk Hatteraick had nothing to gain by his death. Finally
he took courage to push forward, and immediately the voice of Hatteraick
came hoarse from the back of the cave.
"Donner and hagel! Be'st du?" he growled.
"Are you in the dark?" said Glossin, soothingly.
"Dark? Der deyvel, ay!" retorted Hatteraick, "where should I get a glim?
I am near frozen also! Snow-water and hagel--I could only keep myself
warm by tramping up and down this vault and thinking on the merry rouses
we used to have here!"
Glossin made a light, and having set down the little lantern which he
carried, he gathered together some barrel-staves and driftwood. The
flame showed Hatteraick's fierce and bronzed visage as he warmed his
sinewy hands at the blaze. He sat with his face thrust forward and
actually in the smoke itself, so great had been his agony of cold. When
he was a little warmed up, Glossin gave him some cold meat and a flask
of strong spirits. Hatteraick eagerly seized upon these, exclaiming,
after a long draught, "Ah, that is good--that warms the liver!"
After the liquor and the food had put the smuggler into a somewhat
better temper, the two associates settled themselves to discuss the
project which had brought Glossin to the Cave of the Warroch Point.
Up to the present, Glossin had believed that the Vanbeest Brown who had
wounded young Hazlewood was the mate of the smuggling lugger. But now,
hearing that this Brown had been shot on the night of the Woodbourne
attack, all at once a light broke upon him. The assailant could be no
other than the rightful heir of Ellangowan, Harry Bertram.
"If he is on this coast," he meditated, half to himself, "I can have him
arrested as the leader of the attack upon Woodbourne, and also for an
assault upon Charles Hazlewood!"
"But," said Dirk Hatteraick, grimly, "he will be loose again upon you,
as soon as he can show himself to carry other colours!"
"True, friend Hatteraick," said Glossin; "still, till that is proved, I
can imprison him in the custom-house of Portanferry, where your goods
are also stowed. You and your crew can attack the custom-house, regain
your cargo, and--"
"Send the heir of Ellangowan to Jericho--or the bottom of the sea!"
cried Hatteraick, with fierce bitterness.
"Nay, I advise no violence," said Glossin, softly, looking at the
ground.
"Nein--nein," growled the smuggler; "you only leave that to me.
Sturm-wetter, I know you of old! Well, well, if I thought the trade
would not suffer, I would soon rid you of this younker--as soon, that
is, as you send me word that he is under lock and key!"
* * * * *
It so happened that at the very moment when Colonel Mannering and
Dominie Sampson had gone to Edinburgh to see after an inheritance,
Brown, or rather young Bertram (to give his real name), had succeeded in
crossing the Solway in a sailing-boat, and was safe in Cumberland.
Mannering's mission was one of kindliness to his guest, Lucy Bertram.
Her aunt, old Miss Bertram of Singleside, had formerly made Lucy her
heiress, and the Colonel hoped that she might have continued of this
excellent mind. By Mr. Mac-Morlan's advice he engaged a whimsical but
able Scottish lawyer to go with him to the opening of the will--at which
ceremony, among other connections of the deceased, Dandie Dinmont was
also present. But all were disappointed. For Miss Bertram had put her
whole property in trust on behalf of the lost heir of Ellangowan, young
Harry Bertram, whom (said the will) she had good reason for believing to
be still alive.
The object of all these plots and plans, good and evil intentions, was,
however, safe in Cumberland. And had he been content to stay where he
was, safe he would have remained. But as soon as young Bertram arrived
upon the English coast he had written to Julia Mannering to explain his
conduct in the affair with Hazlewood, to the Colonel of his regiment to
ask him for the means of establishing his identity as a Captain in one
of his Majesty's dragoon regiments, to his agent to send him a sum of
money, and in the meantime to Dandie Dinmont for a small temporary loan
till he could hear from his man-of-affairs.
So he had nothing to do but wait. However, a sharp reply from Julia
Mannering stung him to the quick. In this she first of all informed him
that the Colonel would be from home for some days, then reproached him
for the hastiness of his conduct, and concluded by saying that he was
not to think of returning to Scotland.
This last was, of course, what Bertram at once proceeded to do, as
perhaps the young lady both hoped and anticipated.
So once more the heir of Ellangowan was set ashore beneath the old
castle which had been built by his forefathers. He had worked his
passage manfully, and it was with regret that the sailors put him ashore
in the bay directly beneath the Auld Place of Ellangowan. Some
remembrance came across him, drifting fitfully over his mind, that
somehow he was familiar with these ruins. When he had entered and looked
about him, this became almost a certainty. It chanced that lawyer
Glossin had entered the castle at about the same time, coming, as he
said aloud, to see "what could be made of it as a quarry of good hewn
stone," and adding that it would be better to pull it down at any rate,
than to preserve it as a mere haunt of smugglers and evil-doers.
"And would you destroy this fine old ruin?" said Bertram, who had
overheard the last part of Glossin's remarks. The lawyer was struck
dumb, so exactly were the tone and attitude those of Harry Bertram's
father in his best days. Indeed, coming suddenly face to face with the
young man there within the ancient castle of Ellangowan, it seemed to
Glossin as if Godfrey Bertram had indeed risen from the dead to denounce
and punish his treachery.
But the lawyer soon recovered himself. The scheme he had worked out
together with Dirk Hatteraick matured in his mind, and this seemed as
good a time as any for carrying it out. So he waited only for the coming
of two of his thief-takers to lay hands on Bertram, and to send word to
the father of Charles Hazlewood that he held the would-be murderer of
his son at his disposition.
Now Sir Robert Hazlewood was a formal old dunderhead, who was of opinion
that his family, and all connected with it, were the only really
important things in the universe. Still when the prisoner was brought
before him, he was a good deal startled by Bertram's quiet assurance,
and, in spite of Glossin's sneers, could not help being influenced by
the information that Colonel Guy Mannering could speak to the fact of
his being both an officer and a gentleman. But Glossin pointed out that
Mannering was in Edinburgh, and that they could not let a possible
malefactor go merely because he said that he was known to an absent
man. It was, therefore, arranged that, pending the arrival of the
Colonel, Harry Bertram (or Captain Vanbeest Brown) should be confined in
the custom-house at Portanferry, where there was a guard of soldiers for
the purpose of guarding the goods taken from the smugglers.
Happy that his schemes were prospering so well, Glossin went off to
arrange with Dirk Hatteraick for the attack, and also as to the removal
of the soldiers, in such a way that no suspicion might fall upon that
honourable gentleman, Mr. Gilbert Glossin, Justice of the Peace and
present owner of Ellangowan.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, however, the emissaries of Meg Merrilies were not idle. They
brought her the earliest information that the heir of Ellangowan was in
the custom-house at Portanferry, and in imminent danger of his life. Far
on the hills of Liddesdale one Gibbs Faa, a gipsy huntsman, warned
Dandie Dinmont that if he wished his friend well, he had better take
horse and ride straight for Portanferry--where, if he found Brown in
confinement, he was to stay by him night and day. For if he did not, he
would only regret it once--and that would be for his whole life.
Glossin's plan was to work on the fears of the stupid pompous Sir Robert
Hazlewood, so that he would summon all the soldiers for the defence of
Hazlewood House, in the belief that it was to be assaulted by the
gipsies and smugglers. But Meg Merrilies herself sent young Charles
Hazlewood to order the soldiers back, in which mission he would have
succeeded but for the dull persistence of his father. However, Mr.
Mac-Morlan, as Sheriff-Substitute of the county, was able to do that in
spite of Sir Robert's protest which the good sense of his son had been
powerless to effect. The soldiers left Hazlewood House, and took the
direct road back to Portanferry in spite of Sir Robert's threats and
remonstrances.
Lastly Colonel Mannering, but recently returned from Edinburgh, was
warned by a missive which Dominie Sampson had brought from Meg herself.
So that on one particular night all the forces of order, as well as
those of disorder, were directing themselves toward the custom-house of
Portanferry, where in a close and ignoble apartment Harry Bertram and
his worthy friend, Dandie Dinmont, were sleeping. It was Bertram who
wakened first. There was a strong smell of burning in the room. From the
window he could see a crowded boat-load of men landing at the little
harbour, and in the yard below a huge mastiff was raging on his chain.
"Go down and let loose the dog!" the wife of Mac-Guffog called to her
husband; "I tell you they are breaking in the door of the liquor store!"
But the good man appeared to be more anxious about his prisoners. He
went from cell to cell, making sure that all was safe, while his wife,
affirming that he had not the heart of a chicken, descended herself into
the courtyard.
In the meantime, Bertram and Dandie watched from their barred window the
savage figures of the smugglers triumphantly loading their boats with
their recovered goods, while the whole custom-house flamed to the
heavens, sending sparks and blazing fragments upon the roof of the
adjoining prison.
Soon at the outer gate was heard the thunder of sledge-hammers and
crows. It was being forced by the smugglers. Mac-Guffog and his wife had
already fled, but the underlings delivered the keys, and the prisoners
were soon rejoicing in their liberty. In the confusion, four or five of
the principal actors entered the cell of Bertram.
"Der deyvil," exclaimed the leader, "here's our mark!"
Two of them accordingly seized Bertram and hurried him along. One of
them, however, whispered in his ear to make no resistance for the
present--also bidding Dinmont over his shoulder to follow his friend
quietly and help when the time came. Bertram found himself dragged along
passages, through the courtyard, and finally out into the narrow street,
where, in the crowd and confusion, the smugglers became somewhat
separated from each other. The sound of cavalry approaching rapidly made
itself heard.
"Hagel and wetter!" cried the leader, no other than Hatteraick himself,
"what is that? Keep together--look to the prisoner!"
But, for all that, the two who held Bertram were left last of the party.
The crowd began to break, rushing this way and that. Shots were fired,
and above the press the broadswords of the dragoons were seen to
glitter, flashing over the heads of the rioters.
"Now," whispered the man who had before advised Bertram to be quiet,
"shake off that fellow and follow me."
Bertram easily did so, and his left-hand captor, attempting to draw a
pistol, was instantly knocked senseless by the huge fist of Dandie
Dinmont.
"Now, follow quick!" said the first, diving at the word into a dirty and
narrow lane. There was no pursuit. Mr. Mac-Morlan and the soldiers had
appeared in the nick of time. The smugglers had enough to do to provide
for their own safety.
At the end of the lane they found a post-chaise with four horses.
"Are you here, in God's name?" cried their guide.
"Ay, troth am I," said Jock Jabos; "and I wish I were ony gate else!"
The guide opened the carriage door.
"Get in," he said to Bertram, "and remember your promise to the gipsy
wife!"
Through the windows of the coach Dinmont and he could see the village of
Portanferry, and indeed the whole landscape, brilliantly lighted by a
tall column of light. The flames had caught the stores of spirits kept
in the custom-house. But soon the carriage turned sharply through dark
woods at the top speed of the horses, and, after a long journey, finally
drew up in front of a mansion, in the windows of which lights still
burned, in spite of the lateness of the hour.
* * * * *
The listening children remained breathless as I
paused. I had meant this to be the end of my tale,
but I saw at once that no excuse would be held
valid for such a shameful dereliction of duty.
"Go on--go on," they cried; "where was the house
and what happened?"
"I know!" said Sweetheart; "it was the house of
Julia Mannering, and her lover--"
"Oh, bother her lover," cried Hugh John,
impatiently; "_we_ don't want to hear about how
they lived happy ever after. Tell us about the
gipsy, Meg Merrilies--"
"And about Dirk Hatteraick!" said Sir Toady Lion,
getting his word in. "I just love Dirk!"
"And how many people he killed wif his big knife,
and if he was burnt up alive in the fire!" For Maid
Margaret also delights in the most gory details,
though she would not willingly tread upon a worm.
"Yes, go on, tell us all--everything that
happened!" said Sweetheart.
"But do skip the lovering parts," cried the boys in
chorus.
So within these statutes of limitation I had
perforce to recommence, without further preface,
telling the fourth and last tale from _Guy
Mannering_.