A SKIRMISH
The reader need hardly be reminded, that, after a council of war held
at Derby on the 5th of December, the Highlanders relinquished their
desperate attempt to penetrate farther into England, and, greatly to the
dissatisfaction of their young and daring leader, positively determined
to return northward. They commenced their retreat accordingly, and by
the extreme celerity of their movements, outstripped the motions of
the Duke of Cumberland, who now pursued them with a very large body of
cavalry.
This retreat was a virtual resignation of their towering hopes. None had
been so sanguine as Fergus Mac-Ivor; none, consequently, was so cruelly
mortified at the change of measures. He argued, or rather remonstrated,
with the utmost vehemence at the council of war; and, when his opinion
was rejected, shed tears of grief and indignation. From that moment
his whole manner was so much altered, that he could scarcely have been
recognized for the same soaring and ardent spirit, for whom the whole
earth seemed too narrow but a week before. The retreat had continued
for several days, when Edward, to his surprise, early on the 12th of
December, received a visit from the Chieftain in his quarters, in a
hamlet about half way between Shap and Penrith.
Having had no intercourse with the Chieftain since their rupture, Edward
waited with some anxiety an explanation of this unexpected visit; nor
could he help being surprised, and somewhat shocked, with the change in
his appearance. His eye had lost much of its fire; his cheek was hollow,
his voice was languid; even his gait seemed less firm and elastic
than it was wont; and his dress, to which he used to be particularly
attentive, was now carelessly flung about him. He invited Edward to
walk out with him by the little river in the vicinity; and smiled in
a melancholy manner when he observed him take down and buckle on his
sword.
As soon as they were in a wild sequestered path by the side of the
stream, the Chief broke out,--'Our fine adventure is now totally ruined,
Waverley, and I wish to know what you intend to do:--nay, never stare at
me, man. I tell you I received a packet from my sister yesterday, and,
had I got the information it contains sooner, it would have prevented
a quarrel, which I am always vexed when I think of. In a letter written
after our dispute, I acquainted her with the cause of it; and she now
replies to me, that she never had, nor could have, any purpose of giving
you encouragement; so that it seems I have acted like a madman. Poor
Flora! she writes in high spirits; what a change will the news of this
unhappy retreat make in her state of mind!'
Waverley, who was really much affected by the deep tone of melancholy
with which Fergus spoke, affectionately entreated him to banish from his
remembrance any unkindness which had arisen between them, and they once
more shook hands, but now with sincere cordiality. Fergus again inquired
of Waverley what he intended to do. 'Had you not better leave this
luckless army, and get down before us into Scotland, and embark for
the Continent from some of the eastern ports that are still in our
possession? When you are out of the kingdom, your friends will easily
negotiate your pardon; and, to tell you the truth, I wish you would
carry Rose Bradwardine with you as your wife, and take Flora also under
your joint protection.' Edward looked surprised--'She loves you, and I
believe you love her, though, perhaps, you have not found it out, for
you are not celebrated for knowing your own mind very pointedly.' He
said this with a sort of smile.
'How!' answered Edward,' can you advise me to desert the expedition in
which we are all embarked?'
'Embarked?' said Fergus; 'the vessel is going to pieces, and it is full
time for all who can, to get into the long-boat and leave her.'
'Why, what will other gentlemen do?' answered Waverley, 'and why did the
Highland chiefs consent to this retreat, if it is so ruinous?'
'Oh,' replied Mac-Ivor, 'they think that, as on former occasions, the
heading, hanging, and forfeiting, will chiefly fall to the lot of the
Lowland gentry; that they will be left secure in their poverty and their
fastnesses, there, according to their proverb, "to listen to the wind
upon the hill till the waters abate." But they will be disappointed;
they have been too often troublesome to be so repeatedly passed over,
and this time John Bull has been too heartily frightened to recover his
good humour for some time. The Hanoverian ministers always deserved
to be hanged for rascals; but now, if they get the power in their
hands,--as, sooner or later, they must, since there is neither rising
in England nor assistance from France,--they will deserve the gallows as
fools, if they leave a single clan in the Highlands in a situation to
be again troublesome to Government. Aye, they will make root-and-branch
work, I warrant them.'
'And while you recommend flight to me,' said Edward,--'a counsel which I
would rather die than embrace,--what are your own views?'
'Oh,' answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, 'my fate is settled. Dead
or captive I must be before to-morrow.'
'What do you mean by that, my friend?' said Edward. 'The enemy is still
a day's march in our rear, and if he comes up, we are still strong
enough to keep him in check. Remember Gladsmuir.'
'What I tell you is true notwithstanding, so far as I am individually
concerned.'
'Upon what authority can you found so melancholy a prediction?' asked
Waverley.
'On one which never failed a person of my house. I have seen,' he said,
lowering his voice, 'I have seen the Bodach Glas.'
'Bodach Glas?'
'Yes: have you been so long at Glennaquoich, and never heard of the Grey
Spectre? though indeed there is a certain reluctance among us to mention
him.'
'No, never.'
'Ah! it would have been a tale for poor Flora to have told you. Or,
if that hill were Benmore, and that long blue lake, which you see just
winding towards yon mountainous country, were Loch Tay, or my own Loch
an Ri, the tale would be better suited with scenery. However, let us sit
down on this knell; even Saddleback and Ullswater will suit what I have
to say better than the English hedgerows, enclosures, and farm-houses.
You must know, then, that when my ancestor, Ian nan Chaistel, wasted
Northumberland, there was associated with him in the expedition a sort
of Southland Chief, or captain of a band of Low-landers, called Halbert
Hall. In their return through the Cheviots, they quarrelled about the
division of the great booty they had acquired, and came from words to
blows. The Lowlanders were cut off to a man, and their chief fell the
last, covered with wounds by the sword of my ancestor, Since that time,
his spirit has crossed the Vich Ian Vohr of the day when any great
disaster was impending, but especially before approaching death. My
father saw him twice; once before he was made prisoner at Sheriff-Muir;
another time, on the morning of the day on which he died.'
'How can you, my dear Fergus, tell such nonsense with a grave face?'
'I do not ask you to believe it; but I tell you the truth, ascertained
by three hundred years' experience at least, and last night by my own
eyes.'
'The particulars, for Heaven's sake!' said Waverley, with eagerness.
'I will, on condition you will not attempt a jest on the subject.--Since
this unhappy retreat commenced, I have scarce ever been able to sleep
for thinking of my clan, and of this poor Prince, whom they are leading
back like a dog in a string, whether he will or no, and of the downfall
of my family. Last night I felt so feverish that I left my quarters, and
walked out, in hopes the keen frosty air would brace my nerves--I cannot
tell how much I dislike going on, for I know you will hardly believe me.
However--I crossed a small footbridge, and kept walking backwards and
forwards, when I observed with surprise, by the clear moonlight, a tall
figure in a grey plaid, such as shepherds wear in the south of Scotland,
which, move at what pace I would, kept regularly about four yards before
me.'
'You saw a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary dress, probably.'
'No: I thought so at first, and was astonished at the man's audacity
in daring to dog me. I called to him but received no answer. I felt an
anxious throbbing at my heart; and to ascertain what I dreaded, I stood
still, and turned myself on the same spot successively to the four
points of the compass--By Heaven, Edward, turn where I would, the figure
was instantly before my eyes, at precisely the same distance! I was then
convinced it was the Bodach Glas. My hair bristled, and my knees shook.
I manned myself, however, and determined to return to my quarters. My
ghastly visitant glided before me (for I cannot say he walked), until he
reached the footbridge: there he stopped, and turned full round. I must
either wade the river, or pass him as close as I am to you. A desperate
courage, founded on the belief that my death was near, made me resolve
to make my way in despite of him. I made the sign of the cross, drew my
sword, and uttered, "In the name of God, Evil Spirit, give place!" "Vich
Ian Vohr," it said, in a voice that made my very blood curdle, "beware
of to-morrow!" It seemed at that moment not half a yard from my sword's
point; but the words were no sooner spoken than it was gone, and nothing
appeared further to obstruct my passage. I got home, and threw myself on
my bed, where I spent a few hours heavily enough; and this morning, as
no enemy was reported to be near us, I took my horse, and rode forward
to make up matters with you. I would not willingly fall until I am in
charity with a wronged friend.'
Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the operation of an
exhausted frame and depressed spirits, working on the belief common to
all Highlanders in such superstitions. He did not the less pity Fergus,
for whom, in his present distress, he felt all his former regard revive.
With the view of diverting his mind from these gloomy images, he offered
with the Baron's permission, which he knew he could readily obtain, to
remain in his quarters till Fergus's corps should come up, and then to
march with them as usual. The Chief seemed much pleased, yet hesitated
to accept the offer.
'We are, you know, in the rear,--the post of danger in a retreat.'
'And therefore the post of honour.'
'Well,' replied the Chieftain, 'let Alick have your horse in readiness,
in case we should be over-matched, and I shall be delighted to have your
company once more.'
The rearguard were late in making their appearance, having been delayed
by various accidents and by the badness of the roads. At length they
entered the hamlet. When Waverley joined the clan Mac-Ivor, arm in arm
with their Chieftain, all the resentment they had entertained against
him seemed blown off at once. Evan Dhu received him with a grin of
congratulation; and even Callum, who was running about as active
as ever, pale indeed, and with a great patch on his head, appeared
delighted to see him.
'That gallows-bird's skull,' said Fergus, 'must be harder than marble:
the lock of the pistol was actually broken.'
'How could you strike so young a lad so hard?' said Waverley, with some
interest.
'Why, if I did not strike hard sometimes, the rascals would forget
themselves.'
They were now in full march, every caution being taken to prevent
surprise. Fergus's people, and a fine clan regiment from Badenoch,
commanded by Cluny Mac-Pherson, had the rear. They had passed a large
open moor, and were entering into the enclosures which surround a small
village called Clifton. The winter sun had set, and Edward began to
rally Fergus upon the false predictions of the Grey Spirit. 'The Ides of
March are not past,' said Mac-Ivor, with a smile; when, suddenly casting
his eyes back on the moor, a large body of cavalry was indistinctly seen
to hover upon its brown and dark surface. To line the enclosures facing
the open ground, and the road by which the enemy must move from it upon
the village, was the work of a short time. While these manoeuvres were
accomplishing, night sunk down, dark and gloomy, though the moon was
at full. Sometimes, however, she gleamed forth a dubious light upon the
scene of action.
The Highlanders did not remain long undisturbed in the defensive
position they had adopted. Favoured by the night, one large body of
dismounted dragoons attempted to force the enclosures, while another,
equally strong, strove to penetrate by the high road. Both were received
by such a heavy fire as disconcerted their ranks, and effectually
checked their progress. Unsatisfied with the advantage thus gained,
Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the approach of danger seemed to restore
all ifs elasticity, drawing his sword, and calling out 'Claymore!'
encouraged his men, by voice and example, to break through the hedge
which divided them, and rush down upon the enemy. Mingling with the
dismounted dragoons, they forced them, at the sword-point, to fly to the
open moor, where a considerable number were cut to pieces. But the moon,
which suddenly shone out, showed to the English the small number of
assailants, disordered by their own success. Two squadrons of horse
moving to the support of their companions, the Highlanders endeavoured
to recover the enclosures. But several of them, amongst others their
brave Chieftain, were cut off and surrounded before they could effect
their purpose. Waverley, looking eagerly for Fergus, from whom, as well
as from the retreating body of his followers, he had been separated in
the darkness and tumult, saw him, with Evan Dhu and Callum, defending
themselves desperately against a dozen of horsemen, who were hewing
at them with their long broadswords. The moon was again at that moment
totally overclouded, and Edward, in the obscurity, could neither bring
aid to his friends, nor discover which way lay his own road to rejoin
the rear-guard. After once or twice narrowly escaping being slain or
made prisoner by parties of the cavalry whom he encountered in the
darkness, he at length reached an enclosure, and clambering over it,
concluded himself in safety, and on the way to the Highland forces,
whose pipes he heard at some distance. For Fergus hardly a hope
remained, unless that he might be made prisoner. Revolving his fate
with sorrow and anxiety, the superstition of the Bodach Glas recurred to
Edward's recollection, and he said to himself, with internal surprise,
'What, can the devil speak truth?' [See Note 32.]