loud splitting sound, a crash as if a mighty oak was rending asunder,
and a tremendous cry rose from the face of the waters to heaven. They
looked back in dismay. The sea was covered with pieces of the floating
wreck, and human heads and hands appeared at times above the white surf,
beneath which they were all engulphed in succession. At the same moment
nearly that the ship went to pieces, a wave like a mountain rolled
against the stern of the boat, with a shock like that of an earthquake.
Iverach was stunned by its weight and fury; the light seemed to go out
from his eyes, and he heard a horrible hissing in his ears, as he sank
into the abyss,--the trough of the sea. Darkness was around him, and
agony was in his heart, as he groped about in the sinking boat. He was
grasped convulsively in the strong arms of his terrified companion, and
down they went together,--down, down, he knew not how deep, for he
became senseless, and could feel no more.
When life returned, he found himself lying upon the beach, drenched with
the bitter surf, and covered with shells and sea-weed. It was evening,
and the sun, setting behind the hills, cast a long line of radiance
across the glassy sea. All traces of the brig, save those that lay
scattered on the shore, had disappeared. Corpses were strewed upon the
sand,--the cold and wet remains of men, women, and children, once the
poor but happy cottiers of Lochisla.
Night was closing around him; he was alone, upon the desert shore of a
strange country, and the heart of the aged and superstitious Highlander
died away as he looked around him. In front lay the hateful sea, which
had destroyed his companions, and behind was a homeless, howling
wilderness, a savage solitude, which he shuddered to look upon. He saw
every where rocks, mountains, bogs, and thickets of stunted firs, which
grew to the very edge of the cliffs and overhung the water; but there
were no signs of any human habitation, and he strained his eyes until
they grew stiff in the sockets watching the vast wilderness to the
westward,--yet no wreath of smoke rose from it. Save the whistle and
whir of the plover and curlew, or the splash of the seals that were
sporting and floating among the shattered ruins of an iceberg, no signs
of life manifested themselves around him.
Donald gazed at the last-named animals with awe, not unmingled with
fear, when they rose from the water and looked steadily at him with
their great black eyes. The Highlanders used to consider these animals
enchanted beings, and some old and troublesome legends of the Ebudae
came thronging upon Donald's mind as he watched their movements among
the ice. Beside him lay the unconscious remains of his leader; but he
was joyful rather than grieved to find that he was dead, for he knew
that he was now in a better place, and that all his troubles were at an
end. To have lived, would only have been a continuance of misery, and
Donald upbraided the sea for having spared himself.
He sat on the point of a rock, at the foot of which rolled the surf, and
he watched its advance and retreat, careless of whether he died or
lived, until night descended on the sea and land, and then his northern
superstitions began to prove more terrible enemies than any he had yet
encountered. At last it became quite dark, and he knelt down by the
corse of the laird to pray; but when, by the light of the stars, he
beheld the bleached and ghastly face of the dead man, a sudden and
unaccountable terror seized him, and he fled from the sea-shore into the
wilderness, where he could no longer hear the dull boom of the ocean, as
its eternal waves came rolling; on in monotonous succession on the
lonely beach.
At sunrise he again sought the shore, and, digging a grave with his
weapon, gently placed the body of Mr. Stuart in the earth, rolling it
first in his plaid and a piece of old sail-cloth. He covered the grave
with the greenest sods he could find, and toiled the whole day, carrying
stones from the shore to pile a cairn above it, and on its summit he
placed a rough wooden crucifix; for old Iverach had more of the Catholic
than the Protestant in his creed, and he looked upon the cross with
reverence and awe. Having performed this last sad duty to the man whom,
since they were boys, he had revered and loved with all the devotion of
a Highland vassal, he sat down by the grave, and, regardless of his
fate, heeded not a ship which was rounding a point of land, and hove in
sight about four miles off. But the appearance of other things roused
him from this state of apathy. His eye fell upon a gold signet ring
which had fallen from the hand of Mr. Stuart, and lay on the turf beside
a splendidly-jewelled dirk, which he was wont to wear on the 19th of
August,[*] and other days which are considered gay anniversaries in the
Highlands. There was likewise an antique iron casket, containing family
relics, bracelets, rings, lockets, and brooches; and the piper resolved
that he would return to his own country, if God spared and protected
him, that he might place these trinkets in the hands of Ronald Stuart or
Miss Lisle, with whom he knew they would be in safe keeping.
[*] The raising of Prince Charles's standard, &c. &c.
With this intention he quitted the beach, ascended a promontory, and
made signals to the ship; but they were unseen, and he toiled along the
shore from one headland to another, clambering ocean-cliffs, tearing
asunder thicket and jungle, till his strength began to fail, and
darkness again descended and he could see the ship no longer.
As a last resort, by means of the hard flinty stones, with which the
island abounds, being the only crop it ever produces, he struck a light,
and raised a beacon-fire on a rocky peak. Piling driftwood, fallen
trees, and turpentine branches upon it, he raised a giant flame, which
lighted the sea and land for miles around, revealing the caverns in the
far-off capes and headlands, the barren hills and rocks, the rippling
ocean, and the distant sail, which glimmered white and wavering.
This scheme succeeded. A boat was despatched to ascertain the meaning
of this strange illumination, and the vessel, which proved to be a
Quebec ship bound for Saint John's, the capital of the island, took
Iverach on board. He was treated with the utmost kindness by the crew,
and was carried to the town of Saint John's, whence he procured a
passage in a Greenock ship,--disposing of his brooch, pistols, and some
other appointments with which the Highlanders are so fond of adorning
their garb, to defray his expenses.
After his return he visited Lochisla, and then traversed the west
country for some time, till a recruiting sergeant of the Gordon
Highlanders informed him that the regiment had returned to Scotland;
upon which he set out on his way to meet them, and having that morning
entered Edinburgh, he had screwed up his pipes in Charlotte Square to
play for a breakfast, for he had tasted nothing that day.
As he concluded his narrative, he unstrapped a leather dorlach, which he
carried on his back, and taking from it the iron casket, the signet ring
and the jewelled poniard, placed them in Ronald's hand, glad to be rid
of them, after having brought them so far and preserved them as sacred
relics, even when compelled by poverty to seek shelter in the haunts of
infamy and crime, where he had preserved them untouched, though nearly
perishing of want.
He had often been totally without food for four or five days, while at
the same time he carried about him jewels worth four hundred pounds.
"But they werna my ain," said he; "and what could I do, though hunger is
hard to thole? But a's past noo, and oich! I'll be happy yet, even in
my auld and childless days; and I will end them beneath the roof-tree o'
the auld tower whan the time comes, and come it must, some day
sune,--oich! oich!"
*CHAPTER XXIII.*
*CONCLUSION.*
"We dinna ken what was intended,--
We may be for this o't were born;
And now, folk, my song maun be ended,
For I'm to be married the morn."
_Edward Polin._
Ronald's grief at the intelligence so suddenly brought him by Iverach
was of long continuance. It was the more poignant, because his father
had found his tomb in a desert place and in a strange country; for it is
ever the wish of a Highlander to be buried among the ashes of his
ancestors. When he looked upon the blade of the poniard Donald had
brought home, and saw with the thistle--the badge of his family and
clan--the motto _Omne solum forti patria_, it recalled the memory of his
father's pride and wrath when his boyish passion for Alice Lisle was
first revealed to him, and of that moment of anger when he ordered him
to quit his presence, and for ever.
The sight of the family jewels which Iverach, like a pilgrim of old, had
so sacredly preserved in all his wanderings, awakened many deep regrets
and dear associations. There were lockets which contained the hair of
his father and mother interwoven, cut from their brows in youth, when
their ringlets were glossy and brown; and there were brooches which had
clasped the plaids of brothers, and rings and bracelets which had once
adorned the white hands of sisters, all of whom were now gone, and above
whose graves the grass had grown and withered for years.
Despite the romance-like appearance the procedure will bestow upon the
story, we may not bid adieu to the hero in the midst of his grief, but
must leave him what is styled, in common phraseology, "the happiest of
men." After a lapse of time his sorrow passed away, and the
preparations for his marriage were renewed.
On the forenoon of the 16th of July,--one must be particular on such an
occasion,--an unusual bustle was apparent in and about Lord Lisle's
mansion in Charlotte Square, one side of which was lined by carriages,
while a crowd of women and children were collected around the door.
Boys were clinging to rails and lamp-posts, and cheering and yelling
with might and main, in a manner which would better have become a
wedding in a country village than in the "modern Athens." The servants
were all smiles and white ribbons, and clad in their gayest apparel. A
flag was flying on the top of the house, and, at Campbell's particular
request, the great stone sphynxes, which overlook the sides of the
square, were adorned with coronets and garlands of flowers on this
auspicious occasion. St. George's bells rang merrily, and the splendid
band of the Highlanders were making the northern gardens of the square
re-echo, as they played the old Scottish air, "Fy! let us a' to the
bridal!" while the crowd sang and laughed, and the rabble of boys
cheered long and lustily, like a nuisance as they were.
Ladies and gentlemen in full dress appeared at times at the windows of
the front drawing-room, but they immediately retired when a shout arose
from the gaping crowd, among whom the servants scattered basketsful of
white favours. To these Allan Warristoun added, now and then, a shower
of red-hot penny-pieces, which he heated on a shovel, and threw over the
area railings. These burned the fingers of those who caught them; the
laughter became mingled with screams, and "the fun grew fast and
furious."
Drawn by four fine bays at a trot, a smart new travelling-carriage fresh
from the finishing hands of Crichton, came up to the door, and the
people fell back on the right and left; but again rushed forwardas the
door was opened, and the clanking steps thrown down by the servant, who,
like the smart postilions on the saddle, wore a white favour of giant
size on his breast. On the dickey sat our friend old Donald Iverach,
superbly garbed and armed, with his pipes under his arm, and his bonnet
cocked over his grey hairs; while he screwed away at his drones, and
looked more happy than ever he had done in his life.
Double imperials, all new and shining, were strapped on the top of the
carriage, and a regimental bonnet-case surmounted them both. A sword
and shoulder-belt, with various guns and fishing-rods, hung in the
slings behind, while shooting-bags and band-boxes were piled up in the
rumble, into which the servant handed a spruce little maid, cloaked and
bonneted for the road.
Encircled by the collar of Saint James of Spain, the arms of Stuart and
Lisle quarterly, appeared blazoned on the panels, glittering on the
harness, on the carriage top, and sparkling on the ample buttons of the
footman.
"Now then, John; is all right?" cried the jovial butler, appearing at
the front door.
"All right, sir!" cried the postilion; and the crowd began to cheer.
Stuart came forth, with Alice leaning on his arm, and the eyes that
peeped in at the door discerned a crowd of glittering dresses and happy
faces behind them. Ronald was in full dress, and certainly appeared a
little nervous. Alice leant on his arm, trembling and blushing
desperately, but looking so pretty in her little marriage bonnet, and so
interesting in all the splendour of white satin, orange-buds,
virgin-lace, smiles and blushes, that the crowd in their admiration
forgot to cheer, greatly to her relief. Ronald handed her into the
carriage, and sprang in after her. Up went the steps, and the door was
closed.
"Good bye! God bless you, my lad!" cried Campbell, flinging an old shoe
after them for luck. "Remember the old Gordon Highlanders; for it will
be long before they forget you!"
"Good bye, colonel!" said Ronald. "Say the same for me to all the rest
of ours."
"Adieu!" faltered Alice, kissing her little hand, and the glasses were
drawn up. John leaped into his seat behind, and placed his arm round
the waist of the maid-servant. Donald cried "Hoigh!" and waved his
bonnet; the pipes struck up; "crack went the whip, round went the
wheels," and they were off at the rate of twelve miles an hour for
Lochisla.
THE END.
Printed by Maurice and Co., Fenchurch-street.