A HAMILTON! A HAMILTON!
"Oh, stay at home, my only son,
Oh, stay at home with me!
For secretly I am forewarned
Of ills awaiting thee!
Last night I heard the deid bell sound,
When all were fast asleep;
And aye it rung, and aye it sung,
Till all my flesh did creep."
THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD.
Unobserved, they reached the verge of the beach, and were about to
descend, when Sabrino suddenly grasped the arm of the earl.
He turned.
The negro had his poniard in his right hand, and placed a finger of
his left on his lips, in token of silence; there was a savage gleam
in his shining eyes.
"Well, Sabrino, what dost thou see now?"
Sabrino pointed, and, a few yards below, the earl saw a man, having
in his hand a drawn sword, which glittered in the moonlight. That he
was a gentleman was evident by his dress--a plum-coloured doublet,
orange hose, a blue velvet mantle, and waving feather. He was
ascending straight from the little creek, where the boat was moored
to a fragment of rock, and had, beyond a doubt, discovered it.
"My lord!" said Sybil, breathlessly; "'tis Sir James of Barncleugh
himself."
"Oho! I have not met this worthy laird since we broke the pikemen of
Arran at Linlithgow brig. He owes me more than one sword cut; and I
do not like debtors of that kind."
"Oh! if possible, avoid him."
"My dear Sybil!----"
"Death will come of it!"
"A little prick with a poniard will do him no harm."
"But while you fight, his people will come upon us. Now, dear
Archibald, pray----"
"I am not in the sweetest of tempers just now: and--soho! thou
Hamilton! clear the pathway, or I will trounce thee soundly."
"Who are _you_?" asked Sir James, standing on his guard, right in the
centre of the path that led to the boat; "and what seek you here,
sirrah?--stand and answer."
"I sought Sybil Douglas, Sir James."
"What do I hear--the Earl of Ashkirk! Now, by the soul of Arran!
thou leavest not this island but in a coffin. Pardon me, my young
lady of Kilspindie," said the old governor, courteously raising his
blue velvet bonnet to Sybil; "pardon me, but this rash gallant must
pay the penalty of coming uninvited here. Hallo! _a Hamilton! a
Hamilton!_"
"Dishonour dog your heels, base Barncleugh! and may that accursed
slogan never be heard but in shame and defeat!" exclaimed the earl,
infuriated to find him thus crying aloud to summon his men, who were
scattered over the island, and many of whom were visible in the
moonlight, and not far off. "To the boat, Sybil, and leave me to
deal with this rough tilter! To the boat; see to it, Sabrino. Sir
James Hamilton, I have fought fifteen times, and three of my
adversaries are dead; thou shalt make the sixteenth combatant I have
encountered, and the fourth I shall have slain; and, as God be my
judge, unwillingly. Come on!"
Both drew their daggers, and stood with their swords on guard.
In the sixteenth century, fencing in Scotland was very different from
what it is to-day--a pastime for boys. It was then the indispensable
accomplishment of the soldier and gentleman, for every gentleman was
then a soldier. Long, straight, and heavy, the swords were
double-edged; consequently, there were as many cuts as thrusts; and
being furnished with long arm-pit daggers, the left hands of the
duellists alternately acted offensively and defensively, and very
often gave the finishing blow, when the sword of one adversary had
beaten down the other's guard, and the combatants came to closer
quarters.
Alarmed lest the voice of Barncleugh should have reached his people,
excited by the imminent danger of his position, and by the
instinctive feudal hatred of Sir James Hamilton, the earl attacked
him with the utmost fury, assailing him with point and edge; and
warily the older swordsman received him, warding the cuts with his
rapier, and parrying the thrusts with his poniard. The steel rang
and flashed like blue fire in the bright moonlight; and a shower of
red sparks flew from either weapon as their keen edges met, and made
the arm of each combatant tingle up to the shoulder blade.
Somewhat older fashioned, and more stiff than the earl, the knight of
Barncleugh was unable, like the former, to lengthen and shorten
himself--one moment to spring agilely to the right, and the next to
make a furious assault on the left; or, in avoiding a breast-high
thrust, to lie so far back that his dagger-hand rested on the turf.
Firm and erect, the old laird stood like a tower; and the whole of
his skill (which was not little) lay in his sharp and unerring eye,
his strong but pliant wrist.
Meanwhile, Sabrino had placed Sybil in the boat, and standing in the
water, which came up to his armpits, held the bow to the edge of the
rock, that the earl might readily leap on board.
The result of a combat between two such well-matched swordsmen was a
number of mutually inflicted cuts and scratches, which exasperated
them both. But their animosity had different incentives--Barncleugh
fought for honour alone: but the earl fought for his honour, life,
liberty, and possession of Sybil Douglas; a cry from whom, together
with a distant "Hallo" informed him that the conflict was observed by
several of Barncleugh's soldiers, who were hurrying down the steep
pathway that led to the creek. This made the earl fall on with such
fury, that the calmer Barncleugh ran his sword through his doublet
(and grazed his ribs) up to the very hilt.
Imagining that he was run through the body and slain, the earl seized
the guard of Barncleugh's sword, to retain it in his body, and
closing up with his own sword shortened in his hand, buried the point
in the breast of Barncleugh, whose plum-coloured doublet was covered
with blood in a moment. Then hurling him to the earth, he sprang
wildly on board the boat, with one sword in his hand, and another, to
all appearance, in his body.
At the same moment, a loud "Hallo!" again rang in his ears--a rapid
explosion followed, and the balls of three arquebuses whistled past
his head. Thinking only of Sybil, he pushed off the boat, forgetting
altogether the poor black page, whose tongue was unable to cry either
for pity or succour; and thus Sabrino was left behind again.
Raising himself on his left hand, while with his right he endeavoured
to staunch the blood that flowed from his wound, Sir James Hamilton
cried hoarsely and feebly--
"To your arquebuses again, ye knaves--again! Shoot, and shoot
surely! See, 'tis the black devil again!--there--there--in the
water! To your arquebuses--shoot, shoot, with a wannion upon you!"
The three arquebusiers stuck their forks in the sand, and levelled
their heavy fire-arms over them. Again two large bullets whistled
after the earl, and one dashed the spray about the black woolly head
of Sabrino, which was visible on the moonlighted water; but he dived
like a duck and disappeared. The reports of these large fire-arms
rang with a hundred reverberations among the cliffs and caverns of
the isle, and in the fissured rocks of the Longcraig (a reef which
guards it on the east), until they died away on the winds that blew
freshly down the river from the west.
"To the boat! to the boat!--follow, and shoot! _A Hamilton! a
Hamilton!_" cried Barncleugh, as he sank back choked in blood.
"Seton, and _Set on_!" replied the earl, with the punning slogan of
his house; "for, by St. Andrew, there is one Hamilton less in the
world!" and with savage glee he plucked from his doublet, and flung
back to the shore, Sir James's sword.
Then snatching his oars, he placed his feet firmly against the
stretchers in the bottom of the boat, and intent only on leaving the
island as far behind as possible, pulled with all strength away from
its rocky shores.
After some delay, Barncleugh's followers unmoored their boat, which,
by a chain and padlock, was secured to an iron ring; and then pushed
off, two plying their arquebuses, while four plied their oars. Away
they came, with a shout that floated far over the still water; but by
this time the earl was nearly half a mile from the island, and,
acting under a natural reaction of feelings, Sybil waved her
handkerchief, in token of the triumph and defiance which had replaced
her previous terror.
Lustily pulled the brave earl, and even Sybil would have put her
dimpled hands to the oars to assist him, had she not soon required
both to grasp the seat beside him, as their little boat rose like a
cork on the heavy ground-swell that rolls between the island and the
shores of Lothian.
The wind was rising.
It blew freshly down the Firth, and as the tide was ebbing now, a
strong current ran seaward--a current against which the solitary
rower struggled in vain; for in fifteen minutes he found they were
swept far below the island.
He saw the four oars of his pursuers flashing in the moonlight, and
the glitter of steel announced that they were well armed; while every
successive gust of wind that swept over the curling water brought
nearer and nearer their triumphant shout; and he could see how, at
times, they paused, and complacently looked over their shoulders to
contemplate the distance as it lessened by their efforts.
And it was lessening fast!
The earl thought of Sybil, and of what her feelings would be if he
was taken, and of what she and his mother would experience if he was
brought back to the island a breathless corpse. These anxieties
received an additional impulse by the flash of an arquebuse from the
pursuing boat; and the earl saw that the bullet skipped over the
waves far ahead of him.
There was now but one alternative, and he did not hesitate to adopt
it.
Stepping the little mast, he hoisted the lugsail, squared it to the
western breeze, grasped the tiller, while Sybil threw her arms around
him; and now their boat, sharp-prowed and clinker-built, like all the
Scottish fisher craft, favoured by the wind, by the ebbing tide, and
the fast flowing river, flew like a gull down the widening Firth; and
then a shout of anger announced that the followers of Barncleugh were
left far behind.
* * * * *
Grasped by a watchman of the tower, when in the very act of
attempting to descend, the Countess of Ashkirk, as we have related,
had been left behind; but she saw from her window the flash of steel
on the beach; she heard the shouts and outcries of the Hamiltons, and
prayed and trembled for her son. She saw the two boats which shot
off from the island, on the bright surface of the glittering river,
which was all shining like a mirror, save where a flitting cloud
obscured it. She had seen these boats lessening in the distance; and
again on her knees she implored St. Bryde of Douglas to watch over
the safety and escape of her son, vowing to endow in her name a
yearly mass and an altar in the great church of St. Giles.
The countess knew not that her "brave rash bairn," as she called him,
had achieved both his safety and escape, until Sir James Hamilton was
carried into the tower bleeding profusely, and almost dying. Now it
was that the fierce feudal hatred in which she had been nurtured, and
in which she had reared her own son, jarred with her natural
kindliness and pity; and it was with a strange, and, as she often
thought, unchristian sentiment of joy and triumph, mingling with her
tenderness and compassion, she prepared lint and bandages, with some
of her favourite salves and recipes, for the wounded castellan, whose
sword-thrust she proceeded to probe and dress.
The moment Sir James's wound (which was a deep, but not dangerous
stab in the breast) was dressed, she hurried to the tower-head, and
looked towards the east, but neither of the boats were visible. The
moon had become obscured, the rising wind howled drearily through the
embrasures of the battlement, and the dusky shadow of a dark cloud
rested upon that part of the Firth where the boat of the earl had
last been visible.
The heart of Lady Ashkirk became oppressed by vague terrors; and
after praying as only the people of the olden time could pray, when
faith was strong in the land, and superstition was stronger, she
returned to the bedside of her patient; and such was her care and
skill, that in three days the hardy old knight was again seated at
his little tripod table by the tower gate, with the ocean below, and
the gulls around him, drinking his peg tankard of spiced Rochelle,
and playing chess with the seneschal of the establishment, who knew
his duty too well ever to attempt to win a game; thus that
easy-tempered personage allowed himself to be defeated ten times
a-day, if nine victories did not satisfy the old knight, his master
and antagonist.