WHITE HEATHER.
And now behold! the red flag flying from the summit of Castle Dare--a
spot of brilliant color in this world of whirling mist and flashing
sunlight. For there is half a gale blowing in from the Atlantic, and
gusty clouds come sweeping over the islands, so that now the Dutchman,
and now Fladda, and now Ulva disappears from sight, and then emerges
into the sunlight again, dripping and shining after the bath, while ever
and anon the huge promontory of Ru-Treshanish shows a gloomy purple far
in the north. But the wind and the weather may do what they like to-day;
for has not the word just come down from the hill that the smoke of the
steamer has been made out in the south? and old Hamish is flying this
way and that, fairly at his wits' end with excitement; and Janet Macleod
has cast a last look at the decorations of heather and juniper in the
great hall; while Lady Macleod, dressed in the most stately fashion, has
declared that she is as able as the youngest of them to walk down to the
point to welcome home her son.
"Ay, your leddyship, it is very bad," complains the distracted Hamish,
"that it will be so rough a day this day, and Sir Keith not to come
ashore in his own gig, but in a fishing-boat, and to come ashore at the
fishing quay, too; but it is his own men will go out for him, and not
the fishermen at all, though I am sure they will hef a dram whatever
when Sir Keith comes ashore. And will you not tek the pony, your
leddyship? for it is a long road to the quay."
"No, I will not take the pony, Hamish," said the tall, white-haired
dame, "and it is not of much consequence what boat Sir Keith has, so
long as he comes back to us. And now I think you had better go down to
the quay yourself, and see that the cart is waiting and the boat ready."
But how could old Hamish go down to the quay? He was in his own person
skipper, head keeper, steward, butler, and general major-domo, and ought
on such a day as this to have been in half a dozen places at once. From
the earliest morning he had been hurrying hither and thither, in his
impatience making use of much voluble Gaelic. He had seen the yacht's
crew in their new jersies. He had been round the kennels. He had got out
a couple of bottles of the best claret that Castle Dare could afford. He
had his master's letters arranged on the library table, and had given a
final rub to the guns and rifles on the rack. He had even been down to
the quay, swearing at the salmon-fishers for having so much lumber lying
about the place where Sir Keith Macleod was to land. And if he was to go
down to the quay now, how could he be sure that the ancient Christina,
who was mistress of the kitchen as far as her husband Hamish would allow
her to be, would remember all his instructions? And then the little
granddaughter Christina, would she remember her part in the
ceremony?
However, as Hamish could not be in six places at once, he decided to
obey his mistress's directions, and went hurriedly off to the quay,
overtaking on his way Donald the piper lad, who was apparelled in all
his professional finery.
"And if ever you put wind in your pipes, you will put wind in your pipes
this day, Donald," said he to the red-haired lad. "And I will tell you
now what you will play when you come ashore from the steamer: it is the
'Farewell to Chubraltar' you will play."
"The 'Farewell to Gibraltar!'" said Donald, peevishly, for he was bound
in honor to let no man interfere with his proper business. "It is a
better march than that I will play, Hamish. It is the 'Heights of Alma,'
that was made by Mr. Ross, the Queen's own piper; and will you tell me
that the 'Heights of Alma' is not a better march than the 'Farewell to
Gibraltar?'"
Hamish pretended to pay no heed to this impertinent boy. His eye was
fixed on a distant black speck that was becoming more and more
pronounced out there amidst the grays and greens of the windy and sunlit
sea. Occasionally it disappeared altogether, as a cloud of rain swept
across toward the giant cliffs of Mull, and then again it would appear,
sharper and blacker than ever, while the masts and funnel were now
visible as well as the hull. When Donald and his companion got down to
the quay, they found the men already in the big boat, getting ready to
hoist the huge brown lugsail; and there was a good deal of laughing and
talking going on, perhaps in anticipation of the dram they were sure to
get when their master returned to Castle Dare. Donald jumped down on the
rude stone ballast, and made his way up to the bow; Hamish, who remained
on shore, helped to shove her off; then the heavy lugsail was quickly
hoisted, the sheet hauled tight; and presently the broad-beamed boat was
ploughing its way through the rushing seas, with an occasional cloud of
spray coming right over her from stem to stern. "Fhir a bhata," the men
sung, until Donald struck in with his pipes, and the wild skirl of "The
Barren Rocks of Aden" was a fitter sort of music to go with these
sweeping winds and plunging seas.
And now we will board the steamer, where Keith Macleod is up on the
bridge, occasionally using a glass, and again talking to the captain,
who is beside him. First of all on board he had caught sight of the red
flag floating over Castle Dare; and his heart had leaped up at that sign
of welcome. Then he could make out the dark figures on the quay, and the
hoisting of the lugsail, and the putting off of the boat. It was not a
good day for observing things, for heavy clouds were quickly passing
over, followed by bewildering gleams of a sort of watery sunlight; but
as it happened, one of these sudden flashes chanced to light up a small
plateau on the side of the hill above the quarry, just as the glass was
directed on that point. Surely--surely--these two figures?
"Why, it is the mother--and Janet!" he cried.
He hastily gave the glass to his companion.
"Look!" said he. "Don't you think that is Lady Macleod and my cousin?
What could have tempted the old lady to come away down there on such a
squally day?"
"Oh yes, I think it is the ladies," said the captain; and then he added,
with a friendly smile, "and I think it is to see you all the sooner, Sir
Keith, that they have come down to the shore."
"Then," said he, "I must go down and get my gillie, and show him his
future home."
He went below the hurricane deck to a corner in which Oscar was chained
up. Beside the dog, sitting on a campstool, and wrapped round with a
tartan plaid, was the person whom Macleod had doubtless referred to as
his gillie. He was not a distinguished-looking attendant to be
travelling with a Highland chieftain.
"Johnny, my man, come on deck now, and I will show you where you are
going to live. You're all right now, aren't you? And you will be on the
solid land again in about ten minutes."
Macleod's gillie rose--or, rather, got down--from the campstool, and
showed himself to be a miserable, emaciated child of ten or eleven, with
a perfectly colorless face, frightened gray eyes, and starved white
hands. The contrast between the bronzed and bearded sailors--who were
now hurrying about to receive the boat from Dare--and this pallid and
shrunken scrap of humanity was striking; and when Macleod took his hand,
and half led and half carried him up on deck, the look of terror that he
directed on the plunging waters all around showed that he had not had
much experience of the sea. Involuntarily he had grasped hold of
Macleod's coat as if for protection.
"Now, Johnny, look right ahead. Do you see the big house on the cliffs
over yonder?"
The child, still clinging on to his protector, looked all round with the
dull, pale eyes, and at length said,--
"No."
"Can't you see that house, poor chap? Well, do you see that boat over
there? You must be able to see that."
"Yes, sir."
"That boat is to take you ashore. You needn't be afraid. If you don't
like to look at the sea, get down into the bottom of the boat, and take
Oscar with you, and you'll see nothing until you are ashore. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Come along, then."
For now the wild skirl of Donald's pipes was plainly audible; and the
various packages--the new rifle, the wooden case containing the
wonderful dresses for Lady Macleod and her niece, and what not--were all
ranged ready; to say nothing of some loaves of white bread that the
steward was sending ashore at Hamish's request. And then the heaving
boat came close to, her sail hauled down; and a rope was thrown and
caught; and then there was a hazardous scrambling down the dripping iron
steps, and a notable spring on the part of Oscar, who had escaped from
the hands of the sailors. As for the new gillie, he resembled nothing so
much as a limp bunch of clothes, as Macleod's men, wondering not a
little, caught him up and passed him astern. Then the rope was thrown
off, the steamer steamed slowly ahead, the lugsail was run up again, and
away the boat plunged for the shore, with Donald playing the "Heights of
Alma" as though he would rend the skies.
"Hold your noise, Donald!" his master called to him. "You will have
plenty of time to play the pipes in the evening."
For he was greatly delighted to be among his own people again; and he
was eager in his questions of the men as to all that had happened in his
absence; and it was no small thing to them that Sir Keith Macleod should
remember their affairs, too, and ask after their families and friends.
Donald's loyalty was stronger than his professional pride. He was not
offended that he had been silenced; he only bottled up his musical
fervor all the more; and at length, as he neared the land, and knew that
Lady Macleod and Miss Macleod were within hearing, he took it that he
knew better than any one else what was proper to the occasion, and once
more the proud and stirring march strove with the sound of the hurrying
waves. Nor was that all. The piper lad was doing his best. Never before
had he put such fire into his work; but as they got close inshore the
joy in his heart got altogether the mastery of him, and away he broke
into the mad delight of "Lady Mary Ramsay's Reel." Hamish on the quay
heard, and he strutted about as if he were himself playing, and that
before the Queen. And then he heard another sound--that of Macleod's
voice:
"_Stand by lads!... Down with her!_"--and the flapping sail, with its
swinging gaff, rattled down into the boat. At the same moment Oscar made
a clear spring into the water, gained the landing-steps, and dashed
upward--dripping as he was--to two ladies who were standing on the quay
above. And Janet Macleod so far forgot what was due to her best gown
that she caught his head in her arms, as he pawed and whined with
delight.
That was a glad enough party that started off and up the hillside for
Castle Dare. Janet Macleod did not care to conceal that she had been
crying a little bit; and there were proud tears in the eyes of the
stately old dame who walked with her; but the most excited of all was
Hamish, who could by no means be got to understand that his master did
not all at once want to hear about the trial of the young setters, and
the price of the sheep sold the week before at Tobermory, and the stag
that was chased by the Carsaig men on Tuesday.
"Confound it, Hamish!" Macleod said, laughing, "leave all those things
till after dinner."
"Oh, ay, oh ay, Sir Keith, we will hef plenty of time after dinner,"
said Hamish, just as if he were one of the party, but very nervously
working with the ends of his thumbs all the time, "and I will tell you
of the fine big stag that has been coming down every night--every night,
as I am a living man--to Mrs. Murdoch's corn: and I wass saying to her,
'Just hold your tongue, Mrs. Murdoch'--that wass what I will say to
her--'just hold your tongue, Mrs. Murdoch, and be a civil woman, for a
day or two days, and when Sir Keith comes home it iss no more at all the
stag will trouble you--oh no, no more at all; there will be no more
trouble about the stag when Sir Keith comes home.'"
And old Hamish laughed at his own wit, but it was in a sort of excited
way.
"Look here, Hamish, I want you to do this for me," Macleod said; and
instantly the face of the old man--it was a fine face, too, with its
aquiline nose, and grizzled hair, and keen hawk-like eyes--was full of
an eager attention. "Go back and fetch that little boy I left with
Donald. You had better look after him yourself. I don't think any water
came over him; but give him dry clothes if he is wet at all. And feed
him up: the little beggar will take a lot of fattening without any
harm."
"Where is he to go to?" said Hamish, doubtfully.
"You are to make a keeper of him. When you have fattened him up a bit,
teach him to feed the dogs. When he gets bigger, he can clean the guns."
"I will let no man or boy clean the guns for you but myself, Sir Keith,"
the old man said, quite simply, and without a shadow of disrespect, "I
will hef no risks of the kind."
"Very well, then; but go and get the boy, and make him at home as much
as you can. Feed him up."
"Who is it, Keith?" his cousin said, "that you are speaking of as if he
was a sheep or a calf?"
"Faith," said he, laughing, "if the philanthropists heard of it, they
would prosecute me for slave-stealing. I bought the boy--for a
sovereign."
"I think you have made a bad bargain, Keith," his mother said; but she
was quite prepared to hear of some absurd whim of his.
"Well," said he, "I was going into Trafalgar Square, where the National
Gallery of pictures is, mother, and there is a cab-stand in the street,
and there was a cabman standing there, munching at a lump of dry bread
that he cut with a jack-knife. I never saw a cabman do that before; I
should have been less surprised if he had been having a chicken and a
bottle of port. However, in front of this big cabman this little chap I
have brought with me was standing; quite in rags; no shoes on his feet,
no cap on his wild hair; and he was looking fixedly at the big lump of
bread. I never saw any animal look so starved and so hungry; his eyes
were quite glazed with the fascination of seeing the man ploughing away
at this lump of loaf. And I never saw any child so thin. His hands were
like the claws of a bird; and his trousers were short and torn so that
you could see his legs were like two pipe-stems. At last the cabman saw
him. 'Get out o' the way,' says he. The little chap slunk off,
frightened, I suppose. Then the man changed his mind. 'Come here,' says
he. But the little chap was frightened, and wouldn't come back; so he
went after him, and thrust the loaf into his hand, and bade him be off.
I can tell you, the way he went into that loaf was very fine to see. It
was like a weasel at the neck of a rabbit. It was like an otter at the
back of a salmon. And that was how I made his acquaintance," Macleod
added, carelessly.
"But you have not told us why you brought him up here," his mother said.
"Oh," said he, with a sort of laugh, "I was looking at him, and I
wondered whether Highland mutton and Highland air would make any
difference in the wretched little skeleton; and so I made his
acquaintance. I went home with him to a fearful place--I have got the
address, but I did not know there were such quarters in London--and I
saw his mother. The poor woman was very ill, and she had a lot of
children; and she seemed quite glad when I offered to take this one and
make a herd or a gamekeeper of him. I promised he should go to visit her
once a year, that she might see whether there was any difference. And I
gave her a sovereign."
"You were quite right, Keith," his cousin said, gravely; "You run a
great risk. Do they hang slavers?"
"Mother," said he, for by this time the ladies were standing still, so
that Hamish and the new gillie should overtake them, "you mustn't laugh
at the little chap when you see him with the plaid taken off. The fact
is, I took him to a shop in the neighborhood to get some clothes for
him, but I couldn't get anything small enough. He _does_ look
ridiculous; but you mustn't laugh at him, for he is like a girl for
sensitiveness. But when he has been fed up a bit, and got some Highland
air into his lungs, his own mother won't know him. And you will get him
some other clothes, Janet--some kilts, maybe--when his legs get
stronger."
Whatever Keith Macleod did was sure to be right in his mother's eyes,
and she only said, with a laugh,--
"Well, Keith, you are not like your brothers. When they brought me home
presents, it was pretty things; but all your curiosities, wherever you
go, are the halt, and the lame, and the blind; so that people laugh at
you, and say that Castle Dare is becoming the hospital of Mull."
"Mother, I don't care what the people say."
"And indeed I know that," she answered.
Their waiting had allowed Hamish and the new gillie to overtake them;
and certainly the latter, deprived of his plaid, presented a
sufficiently ridiculous appearance in the trousers and jacket that were
obviously too big for him. But neither Lady Macleod nor Janet laughed at
all when they saw this starved London waif before them.
"Johnny," said Macleod, "here are two ladies who will be very kind to
you, so you needn't be afraid to live here."
But Johnny did look mortally afraid, and instinctively once more took
hold of Macleod's coat. Then he seemed to have some notion of his duty.
He drew back one foot, and made a sort of courtesy. Probably he had seen
girls do this, in mock-heroic fashion, in some London court.
"And are you very tired?" said Janet Macleod, in that soft voice of hers
that all children loved.
"Yes," said the child.
"Kott bless me!" cried Hamish, "I did not know that!"--and therewith the
old man caught up Johnny Wickes as if he had been a bit of ribbon, and
flung him on to his shoulder, and marched off to Castle Dare.
Then the three Macleods continued on their way--through the
damp-smelling fir-wood; over the bridge that spanned the brawling brook;
again through the fir-wood; until they reached the open space
surrounding the big stone house. They stood for a minute there--high
over the great plain of the sea, that was beautiful with a thousand
tints of light. And there was the green island of Ulva, and there the
darker rocks of Colonsay, and farther out, amidst the windy vapor and
sunlight, Lunga, and Fladda, and the Dutchman's Cap, changing in their
hue every minute as the clouds came driving over the sea.
"Mother," said he, "I have not tasted fresh air since I left. I am not
sorry to get back to Dare."
"And I don't think we are sorry to see you back, Keith," his cousin
said, modestly.
And yet the manner of his welcome was not imposing; they are not very
good at grand ceremonies on the western shores of Mull. It is true that
Donald, relieved of the care of Johnny Wickes, had sped by a short-cut
through the fir-wood, and was now standing in the gravelled space
outside the house, playing the "Heights of Alma" with a spirit worthy of
all the MacCruimins that ever lived. But as for the ceremony of welcome,
this was all there was of it: When Keith Macleod went up to the hall
door, he found a small girl of five or six standing quite by herself at
the open entrance. This was Christina, the granddaughter of Hamish, a
pretty little girl with wide blue eyes and yellow hair.
"Halloo, Christina," said Macleod, "won't you let me into the house?"
"This is for you, Sir Keith," said she, in the Gaelic, and she presented
him with a beautiful bunch of white heather. Now white heather, in that
part of the country, is known to bring great good fortune to the
possessor of it.
"And it is a good omen," said he, lightly, as he took the child up and
kissed her. And that was the manner of his welcome to Castle Dare.