hill, attended only by two of his people, and having left them to take
charge of his horse, in the wood, at no great distance from the Widow's
cottage, he had walked up thither alone. Mrs. MacDermot had been too
much gratified by his friendly talk, during his former visit to her,
not to have made her daughter acquainted with all that passed. Though
his present call was unlooked for, Rosa was already so far prepared to
expect that his visit was a visit of kindness, that she readily obeyed
the request, which he conveyed to her through her mother, to favour him
with her presence. He spoke to her with all the kindness of a father,
and, in answer to his inquiries, she blushingly unbosomed herself to
him, as if he had stood to her in that degree of relationship. She
felt, indeed, that he was the patron and the benefactor of him who
was all in this world to her, and she was, from this cause, already
prepared to love and reverence him. He was full of benevolent plans
for the accomplishment of their union, and the furtherance of their
happiness, and he sat with her on the turf-seat at the cottage door,
expounding them to her, with her hand affectionately in his, and
with his face eagerly turned towards her, in the earnestness of his
conversation, till the sun, which shed his parting radiance upon them,
was just about to sink behind the opposite mountain. Even the sound
of a furiously galloping horse, which came thundering towards them,
failed to arouse them from their interesting talk. Suddenly it burst
out from the woodland, foaming and panting upon the green, within a
few yards of the spot where they were sitting together, and a man,
more like a maniac than a rational being, threw himself from the
saddle. His naked sword was gleaming in his hand, ere his feet had
well touched the ground. It was Charley Stewart.
"Traitor!" cried he in a hoarse choking voice, "up and defend thy
vile life!"
"Charley! Charley!" cried Rosa, springing towards him, "harm not a
hair of his head!"
"What! perjured girl!" cried Charley, pushing her from him so rudely,
as to extend her at some distance from him, nearly senseless on the
green; "wouldst thou whet the very edge of my sword against him,
by thy base entreaties for him? Come on, traitor!"
"Stewart, are ye mad?" cried the Knight; "listen to reason."
"Cowardly traitor that thou art, I will listen to nothing from thee,"
cried Charley Stewart, gnashing his teeth and foaming at the mouth
with fury. "Draw and defend thyself; or, by Heaven, I will forthwith
rid thee of thy vile dastard life! draw, I say!"
"Nay, he must be mad!" cried Sir Piers. "Yet I must defend my life,
though it should be to the peril of his."
But Sir Piers, who sought only to protect himself from Charley's
furious assault, accidentally failed in his very first guard. The
weight of his assailant's blow broke through it, and falling upon the
Knight's head, which had then nothing on it but a bonnet, it stretched
him motionless on the sward. Charley Stewart stood for a moment to
look with horror upon his work--the blood was gushing forth from
the wound, and dying the white hair of him who had been his patron
and friend. From that he turned and gazed upon the prostrate figure
of Rosa MacDermot, who still lay in a kind of half-swoon from the
effects of his violence. He felt as if his bursting heart would have
forced its way through his side. Roused from his trance by the screams
of the Widow MacDermot, he heard the galloping of horses approaching,
and, rushing mechanically into the thickest part of the wood, he made
his way towards the mountains, where night soon overtook him. Still he
continued to wander on, however, without fixed intention or direction;
and it was only on finding, at day-break, that he had already fled far
towards the south, that, after having given due way to his affliction,
he resolved to travel towards Edinburgh, to seek his father, where,
as we have already seen, he ultimately arrived, weary and woe-begone.
The next morning, after Charley Stewart's appearance in Edinburgh,
his father, Sir Walter Stewart, aroused him from the deep sleep into
which his fatigue of body had thrown him, and which, as it was nearly
the first he had had since the sad events which had driven him from the
north, even their cruel influence upon his mind could not disturb. In
reply to Sir Walter's inquiries, he gave him a brief statement of
his history and his misfortunes, and his wounded spirit was soothed
by the kind sympathy which Sir Walter manifested towards him.
"Charley," said he, "thy fate hath been a cruel one, truly; but thou
must bestir thee to shake off thy sorrows. Nothing better, as a cure
for melancholy, than action. I have an emprise on hand, that is for
thee the very medicine that thou lackest, and as it may speedily end
with thee in a journey to France, as the esquire of a knight whom
it will do thee much honour to serve, it is, of all others, the very
best chance that could befal thee under present circumstances. But the
morning wears, and we must go to work without farther loss of time."
Sir Walter Stewart having disguised himself, and his son Charley,
in broad slouched hats and cloaks, they sallied forth together. At
the head of the close, they found two hacknies in the High Street,
held by a single groom. They leaped into their saddles, and, without
any inquiry or explanation as to whither they were bound, they rode
forth together, at a gentle pace, from the southern part of the city,
as if they had been bent more upon pleasure than business. They had
not gone farther in that direction than just beyond the Burgh Loch,
a piece of water which then occupied that extent of flat low ground
now known by the name of The Meadows, when Sir Walter turned his
horse's head to the westward, and, spurring forward, he and Charley
galloped together through the woodland, the groves, and the thickets,
which partially covered the Burgh Muir, and gradually sweeping
round at a point considerably to the westward of the Castle rock,
they then pushed forward at a furious pace in a northerly direction,
making straight for that part of the shore of the Firth of Forth,
lying immediately to the westward of the citadel of Leith. That
which is now a continuous town, was then almost a wilderness of sandy
hillocks, which stretched considerably farther into the sea than the
land now does, its waters having since much encroached on that part
of the coast during the lapse of ages. Taking up a position on a
bare elevated spot, Sir Walter looked with anxious eyes towards the
road-stead. There were but few vessels there; but one seemed to be
slowly coming up to her anchorage, with a fair breeze from the east,
but with her sails so curtailed as betokened caution in those on
board. Sir Walter seemed to eye her with peculiar interest for some
time, and then he addressed a rough red-faced pilot, who was standing
below on the beach, beside his boat, watching the vessel stedfastly,
as if he wished to make out what sort of craft she might be.
"Is not that a foreign barque, friend?" demanded Sir Walter.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the pilot; "she is a furrenner. If I'm
not far mista'en it's the Garron of Burdy, Captain Davy Trummel,
with wine aboard. I think I kenn her rig--and a clever rig it is,
let me tell ye."
"She seems a goodly sea-boat, well fitted to fly quickly over so long
a voyage," replied Sir Walter carelessly.
"That she is, I'll be sworn sir," answered the pilot. "Few in the
trade can match her, I promise ye. But what strange mortals them
French Munseers are after all: why they should call a vessel a Garron,
the which is the swiftest bit of a craft my eyes ever came across, I
can't nowise reasonably comprehend, unless it be out of a mere spirit
of contradiction. But I must call out the lads, and be off to her,
for there's the signal flying for me."
"Thou shalt take me aboard with thee, and have something for thy
guerdon," said Sir Walter. "I would taste this Frenchman's wines,
ere the palates of the good Burghers become acquainted with them."
"Willingly will I do thy pleasure, sir," replied the man; and,
running towards a solitary cottage which stood upon a bank hard by,
he began shouting out, "Jemmy!" and "Harry!" till two lads, who were
his sons and assistants, appeared.
"Thou must tarry here with the horses, till I return from on board,
Charles," said Sir Walter. "This is the very vessel I looked for--the
Garonne of Bordeaux, Captain De Tremouille. He is an old friend of
mine, and I would fain have some talk with him."
Sir Walter was speedily rowed on board by the pilot and his two
sons. The barque took up her proper ground, under the directions which
the helmsman received from the experienced old sailor. The anchor was
let go, and she swung round to her moorings. Charley Stewart passed
a considerable time in walking the horses about ere he saw the boat
leave the barque. At length he beheld it pulling towards the shore,
and Sir Walter again joined him, bearing two large bundles, which were
stowed away behind their saddles, in such a manner as to be covered
by their cloaks as they rode, and following the same circuitous route
which they had taken in their way out, they returned to the city,
and regained the Knight's lodgings without observation.
AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.
Clifford.--Stop one moment, Serjeant. See how the rain has made its
way through the chinks of the window, and deluged the floor.
Serjeant.--Mercy on me, so it has, sir! Well, I'm sure it's no
wonder. Such a blast as that which is rairding without, would drive
it through a stone wall.
Grant.--Call the girl from the kitchen, like a good man.
Serjeant.--Here, lassie!--We're like to be all drowned at this end
of the house. Bring some cloths, will ye, and dish-clouts, and dry
up this deluge here.
Lassie.--Keep us a', siccana sight! But we're no one hair better in
the other end o' the house.
Clifford.--Aye, that's a good girl. Now lay some of these cloths
along the window here. Aye, that will do. I think that ought to make
us water-tight. Now, heap some more wood and peats on the fire before
you go. Thank ye--that's glorious. Now, let the storm howl as it likes.
Grant.--Do go on with your story, Serjeant. You were interrupted in
a most interesting part of it.
Clifford.--"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!"--I beg your pardon,
Sergeant; pray proceed.
Author.--Aye, pray do proceed. I am anxious to know what Sir Walter
Stewart's plans are, and how he succeeded in carrying them into
effect. This part of the history is well known; but the minuter
details are nowhere told in any book I am acquainted with, and I am
curious to hear them.
Serjeant--(taking a long draught from his punch-jug.)--You shall be
satisfied immediately, sir.
THE LEGEND OF CHARLEY STEWART TÀILLEAR-CRUBACH
CONTINUED.
Soon after his return home, from his visit to the barque Garonne,
Sir Walter Stewart got rid of his disguise, put on a courtier's
attire, and hastened to the Castle, to pay his usual attendance
of ceremony on the King. This he made a point of never neglecting,
notwithstanding the marked curtailment which his private, and more
familiar intercourse with his Majesty had received. Whilst within the
walls of the fortress, he contrived, quietly and without suspicion,
to make himself master of the state of the roster of the officers of
the royal guard. To his no small satisfaction, he discovered that the
captain of the guard, for the next day, was to be a certain individual
of the name of Strang, whom he knew to be a worthless, reckless,
hard-drinking, gaming fellow. He then made all the observations that
circumstances permitted, and, pleased with the information he had
acquired, he returned to his lodging, in order fully to acquaint
Charley with it, as well as with the whole of his plans, and with
the manner in which he proposed to carry them into execution, so as
to make him perfectly comprehend the part which he intended that he
should play in them. To lull all after surmise regarding himself,
as much as possible, he that evening appeared in the apartments of
Sir William Rogers, and bore his share in the performance of the
music that was given there. He then kept his appointment with the
Earl of Huntly, in order to tell him that all was prepared, and,
after a hasty interview, shortened by their apprehensions of being
detected together, a circumstance which might have been ruinous to
their projects, Sir Walter retired to his lodging for the night.
Some little time after guard-mounting, next morning, the bundles which
they had brought from the French vessel were opened, and the Knight,
and his son, proceeded to disguise themselves, by putting on the
attire of French sailors, which they contained; and so perfectly did
Sir Walter succeed in this operation, that his most intimate friend
could not have known him. Wrapped up in cloaks, they then took their
stand within the dark threshold of a deep doorway, that opened from
the obscure entrance of the close where Sir Walter lodged. This was
a position from which they could see every one who passed up or down
the High Street, without a chance of their being themselves seen.
They had not stood long there, until their ears caught the distant, but
unceasing jabber of the French tongue, coming up the High Street. It
came from half a-dozen or more voices at once, all being talkers and
none listeners. The noise grew louder and louder, until Sir Walter,
by stretching out his neck from his lurking-place, espied the captain
or skipper of the French barque, approaching with some eight or ten
of his crew. They came walking along close to the houses on his side
of the way. They carried two small casks of wine, each of them slung
on a pole between two men, who were changed from time to time as
they required relief, whilst another man carried a little runlet on
his shoulders. Sir Walter gave a particular whistle, and in a moment
the whole party turned in under the covered entrance of the close,
and laid down their burdens as if to rest themselves. In an instant,
Sir Walter and Charley Stewart threw off their cloaks, and transferred
them to two of the French sailors, who immediately retired into the
Knight's lodgings, whilst he and his son succeeded to the burdens
they had carried. Having effected this change, Sir Walter held some
private talk with Captain De Tremouille, after which the party moved
on up the street, and so up the Castle-Hill, until they came to the
castle gate. There the French skipper, in broken English, told the
sentinel that he would fain speak a word to the captain of the guard,
for whom he was the bearer of a small present of wine, and he and
his whole party were speedily admitted.
"I do ave von leetil praisaint of vine for you, sare," said the
skipper, boldly addressing the scarlet-visaged captain of the
guard. "Dis leetil cask for your own taste.--De richest vine in
de varld."
"Thou art an especial good fellow, sir," replied the captain, clumsily
returning the exquisite bow which the Frenchman had made him, whilst,
at the same time, he eyed the runlet, and immediately consigned it to
the particular care of one of his own people. "Nothing could possibly
come more opportunely, and I am most grateful for thy courtesy. It
must be confessed that you Frenchmen are the most perfect gentlemen
in the world, and know how to do a thing genteelly."
"Ah, sare, dat is too mosh compliment for me as van Frainchman,"
replied the skipper, with a smile and a bow yet lower than his former
one. "And de compliment is more bettaire dat she come from van so
grait hero as de Capitaine Strang! Admirasion for de fame of him,
did make me ave de grait desire to honnaire myself wid praisant him
vid dis leetil gift, for vitch liberty I do hope he is not offend."
"Offended, my dear fellow!" cried Captain Strang; "thy runlet comes
to me as welcome as the very flowers in May! But how the pest dost
thou chance to know my name, Sir Skipper?"
"De name and de fame of de grat hero, is alvaise know by all men all
over de varld," replied the skipper, with another most obsequious
reverence.
"By St. Andrew, but this is a curious marvel though," said the
captain. "Who would have thought that my name could have been known
in France as a hero! Yet certain it is that I have done some small
deeds in my time, that these French mooshies may have heard of."
"Deeds, Monsieur le Capitaine!" cried De Tremouille, with feigned
astonishment; "Vondaires in battaile! meeracailes in de feelde! van
Achille of Scotlande! But all dat is nossing at all compare to de fame
of Monsieur le Capitaine for his vonderful taste for de good vine! Ven
dey do talk of good vine in France, dey do alvaise say--Aha! dis
is vine fit for de pallait of van Empereur; bot dis 'ere is more
bettaire, dis is fit for de pallait of de famous Scottish hero, de
Capitaine Strang, dat do know good vine more bettaire dan any oder
man in de varld."
"By all the saints, that is wonderful!" said the captain; "and yet
that I can more easily understand. Yes, yes; few people can match
me there. And then, to be sure, these wine-dealers in France must
know some little of those who are judges of the good stuff, and who,
moreover, like myself, do so much to encourage their trade. But hark
ye, Mr. Skipper! what do ye with those other two casks which those
fellows of thine are carrying?"
"Ah hah! dat is von praisant pour de Duc d'Albanie," replied the
skipper.
"Ha!" cried the captain of the guard, with a certain air of suspicion;
"the Duke of Albany, saidst thou? How comest thou to have a present
for the Duke of Albany?"
"Oh yaes, sare!" replied the imperturbable skipper, with great apparent
innocence, "de vine is von cadeau, vat you do call praisant from de
marchand at Bordeaux, vid de expectation dat de squisite taste of him
may make mi Lor Duc to ave mor of him pour de l'argent, and prevail
on de Royal King, his broder, to ave some too also."
"Um--aye," said the captain of the guard, with hesitation; "likely
story enough--though there be but little chance of the King drinking
ought of the Duke's providing, whatever liquor the Duke may by and bye
drink of his Majesty's brewing. But 'twas natural enow in the merchant
to think so, Mooshie. As for the Duke, he is no bad customer to his
own fist, when he is well set with a jolly boon companion, such as
myself for instance. So thou mayest as well leave thy twin-casks in my
charge, friend; and I shall see that they are properly delivered.--At
least," added he, in an under voice, aside, "I shall take care most
conscientiously to deliver them in due time of their contents."
"Tank you--very mosh tank you, sare," replied the skipper. "Mais I
not trobil you. De marchand did ordaire me to see dem in de royal
hand of de Duc heemself. If I not do dat, I most take heem back
again. Jean! François! il faut----"
"Um!--don't be so hasty, man," interrupted the captain of the guard,
by no means willing to lose sight of the casks, and hesitating, and
cogitating within himself, that if the wine was taken back, he would
lose all chance of tasting it; whereas, if it was once lodged with the
Duke, he had a fair prospect of being invited to share in it. "You
Mooshies are as pestilent hasty as a bit of touch paper. Thou shalt
deliver the wine thyself to the Duke. Here, Laurence--the keys of
the Duke's apartments! Now, Mooshie, do thou and three of thy fellows
quickly shoulder the casks and follow me."
The skipper immediately took up one end of the pole that swung one
of the casks, and addressing Sir Walter Stewart by the name of Jean,
he called to him roughly, in French, to take up the other end. Charley
Stewart and a sailor hoisted up the second cask; and so they followed
the captain of the guard up to the Duke's apartments.
When the doors were opened, which gave access to the royal prisoner,
they found the Duke of Albany sitting at a table in conversation with
his chamberlain, his manly and somewhat stern countenance deprived
of much of its wonted bloom and sunshine, from the confinement to
which he had been subjected, and the melancholy anticipations which
possessed his mind, though nothing had as yet been able to overpower
his indomitable resolution. It was only when he arose from his chair,
to ascertain what his visitors came about, that his powerful and
well-proportioned person, and his broad chest, were fully exhibited.
"What is all this?" cried the Duke, somewhat impatiently.
"So please your Highness' Grace, this French Mooshie skipper is the
bearer of a present of that which he states to be very choice wine
of his country's growth," said Captain Strang, with a low obeisance.
"Who can have thus remembered me in my misfortunes?" demanded the Duke.
"Nay," replied Strang, "I question if either the giver of the gift,
or he that hath it in charge, know ought of the position in which
your Royal Highness is now placed. But stand forth, Sir Mooshie,
and tell thine own tale."
"Eh bien," cried the skipper, advancing, and bowing three or four
times to the ground; "Je le----"
"Hold! hold! Mooshie!" interrupted Captain Strang; "none of thine own
outlandish language, dost thou hear? Thou canst speak our tongue well
enow for all purposes, so keep to that, if it so please thee."
"Very vell, Monsieur le Capitaine String," replied the skipper,
with a shrug, and a grimace, that showed his disappointment in being
thus prevented from speaking to the Duke, in a language which would
have veiled all he said from the apprehension of the captain of the
guard--"Very vell, Monsieur le Capitaine; I vill make van attente
to make onderstand de bad Englis of me to his Royal Highness de Duc
d'Albanie.--I ave been send vid dis two cask of vin, as van cadeau
from de marchand Beauvilliers at Bordeaux, to his Highness Royal de
Duc d'Albanie, vid de ope dat de magnifique flaveur of de vine may
please heem, and procure for de marchand van large ordaire from his
Highness Royal, and from his royal broder, his Majesty de King."
"I can promise nothing for his Majesty, friend," replied the Duke;
"but for myself, I would have ye thank Monsieur Beauvilliers from me,
and say to him, that if the wine liketh me well, I shall send him an
order; that is to say, if there be aught of likelihood of my being
alive to drink of it when it comes to hand.--But what sort of wine
is it that thou hast brought me?"
"In dat cask dere is shoise vine of Gascony," said the skipper,
pointing to that which Charley Stewart had helped to bear; "bot,
goot as it is, I am force to tink dat de oder vine, in dis cask,
vill give more plaisir to son Altesse Royale."
"Sir," said Sir Walter, bringing forward the cask, and speaking to the
skipper in French, as if he were merely applying to him for orders,
but in a tone so loud and distinct as to insure that the Duke should
catch every word that fell from him--"do not show surprise at what I
say, or recognise me, if you discover me.--We are all friends. This
cask contains the means of escape, with instructions how you are
to effect it. Let not the captain of the guard depart without an
invitation to supper; the contents of this cask will tell you why."
"Sacre cochon!" cried the skipper, with an angry air, and at the
same time bestowing a smart blow of a rattan on the shoulders of Sir
Walter. "Sacre cochon que vous estes!"
"What did the fellow say to thee, friend skipper?" demanded the
captain of the guard; "and what didst thou say to him?"
"Mine Got! Monsieur le Capitaine String," replied the skipper, "dis
crew of mine is so great idil vans, dat dey vear out de patience
of van Job heemself. I not be come to dis place ardly van moment,
and bifore I decharge my cargo, ven dey must vant to leif me alone,
and to go to run all over de cite, after de dance, and de Scottis
preetee lasses. Be Gar, Monsieur Jean, you sall vork more vork pour
dis, dat I do tell you, mon garçon."
"Fear nothing, sir," said Sir Walter, again in French, and humbly
bowing to the skipper, as if making an earnest and contrite apology
to his master; "act boldly; remember the south-western side--there
thou shalt find friends beyond the walls."
"Aha, Coquin!" cried the skipper; "mais vous avez joué votre role
à merveille----"
"What said the fellow? and what was thine answer to him?" demanded
the captain of the guard again.
"Par bleu, Monsieur le Capitaine String, I ave make heem bon garçon
at last," replied the skipper; "I do ave make heem cry peccavée."
"Was that all?" said the captain, gruffly. "Then come away, Mooshie,
let us clear out of this. Thou and thy fellows have been long enough
here."