A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out of the
hut; and the Highlander who assumed the command, and who, in Waverley's
awakened recollection, seemed to be the same tall figure who had acted
as Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by whispers and signs imposed the
strictest silence. He delivered to Edward a sword and steel pistol, and,
pointing up the tract, laid his hand on the hilt of his own claymore,
as if to make him sensible they might have occasion to use force to make
good their passage. He then placed himself at the head of the party,
who moved up the pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being placed
nearest to their leader. He moved with great precaution, as if to avoid
giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to the verge of the
ascent. Waverley was soon sensible of the reason, for he heard at no
great distance an English sentinel call out 'All's well.' The heavy
sound sank on the night-wind down the woody glen, and was answered by
the echoes of its banks. A second, third, and fourth time, the signal
was repeated, fainter and fainter, as if at a greater and greater
distance. It was obvious that a party of soldiers were near, and upon
their guard, though not sufficiently so to detect men skilful in every
art of predatory warfare, like those with whom he now watched their
ineffectual precautions.
When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the
Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious
silence. Waverley had little time, or indeed disposition, for
observation, and could only discern that; they passed at some distance
from a large building, in the windows of which a light or two yet seemed
to twinkle. A little farther on, the leading Highlander snuffed the wind
like a setting spaniel, and then made a signal to his party again to
halt. He stooped down upon all-fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to
be scarce distinguishable from the heathy ground on which he moved, and
advanced in this posture to reconnoitre. In a short time he returned,
and dismissed his attendants excepting one; and, intimating to Waverley
that he must imitate his cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept
forward on hands and knees.
After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than was at
all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived the smell
of smoke, which probably had been much sooner distinguished by the more
acute nasal organs of his guide. It proceeded from the corner of a low
and ruinous sheepfold, the walls of which were made of loose stones,
as is usual in Scotland. Close by this low wall the Highlander guided
Waverley, and, in order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or
perhaps to obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he intimated
to him, by sign and example, that he might raise his head so as to peep
into the sheepfold. Waverley did so, and beheld an outpost of four or
five soldiers lying by their watch-fire. They were all asleep, except
the sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards with his firelock on his
shoulder, which glanced red in the light of the fire as he crossed and
recrossed before it in his short walk, casting his eye frequently to
that part of the heavens from which the moon, hitherto obscured by mist,
seemed now about to make her appearance,
In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes of
atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose, and swept
before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and the night planet
poured her full effulgence upon a wide and blighted heath, skirted
indeed with copsewood and stunted trees in the quarter from which they
had come, but open and bare to the observation of the sentinel in
that to which their course tended. The wall of the sheepfold, indeed,
concealed them as they lay, but any advance beyond its shelter seemed
impossible without certain discovery.
The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the useful
light with Homer's, or rather Pope's, benighted peasant, he muttered a
Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of MAC-FARLANE'S BUAT
(i. e. lantern). [See Note 21.] He looked anxiously around for a few
minutes, and then apparently took his resolution. Leaving his attendant
with Waverley, after motioning to Edward to remain quiet, and giving
his comrade directions in a brief whisper, he retreated, favoured by the
irregularity of the ground, in the same direction and in the same manner
as they had advanced. Edward, turning his head after him, could perceive
him crawling on all-fours with the dexterity of an Indian, availing
himself of every bush and inequality to escape observation, and never
passing over the more exposed parts of his track until the sentinel's
back was turned from him. At length he reached the thickets and
underwood which partly covered the moor in that direction, and probably
extended to the verge of the glen where Waverley had been so long
an inhabitant. The Highlander disappeared, but it was only for a few
minutes, for he suddenly issued forth from a different part of the
thicket, and advancing boldly upon the open heath, as if to invite
discovery, he levelled his piece, and fired at the sentinel. A wound
in the arm proved a disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow's
meteorological observations, as well as to the tune of 'Nancy Dawson,'
which he was whistling. He returned the fire ineffectually, and his
comrades, starting up at the alarm, advanced alertly towards the spot
from which the first shot had issued. The Highlander, after giving them
a full view of his person, dived among the thickets, for his RUSE DE
GUERRE had now perfectly succeeded.
While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one
direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining attendant, made
the best of his speed in that which his guide originally intended to
pursue, and which now (the attention of the soldiers being drawn to a
different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded. When they had run
about a quarter of a mile, the brow of a rising ground, which they had
surmounted, concealed them from further risk of observation. They
still heard, however, at a distance, the shouts of the soldiers as they
hallooed to each other upon the heath, and they could also hear the
distant roll of a drum beating to arms in the same direction. But these
hostile sounds were now far in their rear, and died away upon the breeze
as they rapidly proceeded.
When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and waste
ground of the same description, they came to the stump of an ancient
oak, which, from its relics, appeared to have been at one time a tree of
very large size. In an adjacent hollow they found several Highlanders,
with a horse or two. They had not joined them above a few minutes, which
Waverley's attendant employed, in all probability, in communicating
the cause of their delay (for the words 'Duncan Duroch' were often
repeated), when Duncan himself appeared, out of breath indeed, and with
all the symptoms of having run for his life, but laughing, and in high
spirits at the success of the stratagem by which he had baffled his
pursuers. This, indeed, Waverley could easily conceive might be a matter
of no great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who was perfectly
acquainted with the ground, and traced his course with a firmness and
confidence to which his pursuers must have been strangers. The alarm
which he excited seemed still to continue, for a dropping shot or two
were heard at a great distance, which seemed to serve as an addition to
the mirth of Duncan and his comrades.
The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had entrusted our
hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of the journey were
happily surmounted. Waverley was then mounted upon one of the horses,
a change which the fatigue of the night and his recent illness rendered
exceedingly acceptable. His portmanteau was placed on another
pony, Duncan mounted a third, and they set forward at a round pace,
accompanied by their escort. No other incident marked the course of that
night's journey, and at the dawn of morning they attained the banks of a
rapid river. The country around was at once fertile and romantic. Steep
banks of wood were broken by cornfields, which this year presented an
abundant harvest, already in a great measure cut down.
On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a winding of
its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the half-ruined turrets
of which were already glittering in the first rays of the sun. [See Note
22.] It was in form an oblong square, of size sufficient to contain a
large court in the centre. The towers at each angle of the square rose
higher than the walls of the building, and were in their turn surmounted
by turrets, differing in height, and irregular in shape. Upon one of
these a sentinel watched, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in the wind,
declared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white ensign, which
floated from another tower, announced that the garrison was held by the
insurgent adherents of the House of Stuart.
Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their appearance
excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few peasants whom the
labours of the harvest began to summon from their repose, the party
crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of several arches, and turning to
the left, up an avenue of huge old sycamores, Waverley found himself in
front of the gloomy yet picturesque structure which he had admired at a
distance. A huge iron-grated door, which formed the exterior defence
of the gateway, was already thrown back to receive them; and a second,
heavily constructed of oak, and studded thickly with iron nails, being
next opened, admitted them into the interior courtyard. A gentleman,
dressed in the Highland garb, and having a white cockade in his bonnet,
assisted Waverley to dismount from his horse, and with much courtesy bid
him welcome to the castle.
The governor for so we must term him, having conducted Waverley to a
half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was a small camp-bed, and
having offered him any refreshment which he desired, was then about to
leave him.
'Will you not add to your civilities,' said Waverley, after having made
the usual acknowledgement, 'by having the kindness to inform me where I
am, and whether or not I am to consider myself as a prisoner?'
'I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I could
wish. Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in the district
of Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'
'And how am I assured of that?'
'By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, and
lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince Charles
Edward.' So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if to avoid
further discussion.
Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw himself upon
the bed, and was in a few minutes fast asleep.