SHOWS HOW A WOMAN’S ACTIONS ARE OFTTIMES MISUNDERSTOOD
The very next day, being the tenth of September, came Mr. Malcome to
visit us, with news both good and bad. The Master had not yet returned
home, so that we were ignorant of what had passed since Sir John left
the north. Four days before, our visitor told us, the Earl of Mar
had set up the King’s Standard at Braemar, proclaiming him King of
Scotland, England, France and Ireland. They were making arrangements
for doing likewise in many of the larger towns, such as Aberdeen,
Dunkeld, Brechin, and Montrose, and hoped before long to take Perth
out of the hands of the Whigs and make that place their headquarters.
The affair, said Mr. Malcome, was spreading like fire in the heather
(an ill-sounding simile, thought I) and he believed there would be a
rousing welcome for King James when he arrived.
“And what of Edinbro’?” asked my lady anxiously, for where her treasure
was, there also was her heart.
Mr. Malcome gave a long, slow whistle, and turned to my Lord Sinclair.
“Have you not heard, my lord?”
The old lord shook his head. “Nothing as yet,” he said.
He drew a little nearer us, and sank his voice almost to a whisper.
“A fiasco, my lord, an utter failure, the stupidest piece of bungling
that ever was perpetrated.”
“But how, sir, did it fail?” cried my lady, with wide, anxious eyes.
“Strangely enough, madam, through the treachery of a woman,” sighed Mr.
Malcome. “A woman got hold of the scheme, my lady, and, as was natural,
the thing slipped out.”
“For shame, sir!” cried Betty, her cheeks flaming. “Do you mean to
insinuate that a woman cannot keep a secret--that women are more often
traitors than men? How dare you speak so, Mr. Malcome?”
Our guest was too old a friend to take umbrage at Mistress Betty’s
wrathful tone. He sighed again but offered no apology.
“Tell us all you know, sir, I beg,” said my lady.
“Madam,” said he, “I name no names. If they are not known to you now,
they will be public property soon. But ’tis reported that a certain
young officer who had charge of this scheme, not satisfied to be alone
in his family on our side, engaged his brother, a certain physician
in Edinbro’, to join in with him. The latter, madam, has a wife, who
seeing her husband very melancholy, as weighed down by his knowledge of
the secret, begged him with wifely solicitude to unburden his mind to
her. The gentleman not able to resist her wiles confessed his anxiety,
whereupon the lady, whose sympathies unfortunately lay on the other
side, sent an anonymous despatch to my Lord Justice Clerk. Sir Adam
Cockburn, worthy man, communicated with Colonel Stuart, the Governor;
the plot was frustrated, the Castle was saved, or rather--lost!”
“And what of the conspirators?” we cried.
“Most escaped, but two or three fell into the hands of the Town-band,
which the Lord Provost had sent out to patrol the town.”
“Tell me, sir, have you seen my husband, Sir John?” cried my lady. “Was
he with Mr. Straton last night?”
“Madam, he was, but this morning he rode north again with the news of
our misfortune to the Earl of Mar.”
She sighed even as she smiled.
“Here is a woman,” she cried, laying her hand on her bosom, “who is
traitor enough to the Cause to wish that her husband were not so useful
a man. ’Tis mighty uneasy at times, my friend, to balance the scales
betwixt love and honour; and though I am very sorry that our project
has failed, I cannot as a wife, blame that lady who doubtless loves
her husband as much as I do mine, and wished to save him in spite of
himself.”
“Madam,” said the discreet Mr. Malcome, “there are always two sides to
a question, if not more; and besides, the story may not be true.”
After this, many rumours came to our ears without greatly affecting
our daily life, though my lady lived from hour to hour in the hope of
despatches from her husband, and Betty and the rest of the household
were never weary of gathering news from every conceivable source.
One day the Rev. Mr. Pitcairn, having gone on some errand to Edinburgh,
came back with the news that the Duke of Argyle had arrived from
London, and was gone to Stirling to take up his quarters there.
General Wightman had been for some weeks now in the Castle, and his
troops, some 1800 strong, lay encamped in the King’s Park. Old Colonel
Erskine had not yet been superseded as Governor of the Castle, it
being well known that the majority of that family were in favour of
the Government, though his affection for Sir John and my Lady of Alva
drew his sympathies in the other direction. Old Lady Alva belonged to
a staunch Whig family, and her son Charles at that time seemed in full
sympathy with her, so that neither from them, nor from Aunt Betty did
my lady, as she told me, look for help or pity did things go wrong with
Sir John. But, as you know, in such affairs it is the common rule for
families to be divided amongst themselves, and at present there was no
thought of misfortune.
The town of Perth fell into possession of the King’s men about the
middle of September in a very simple manner, for the Tory burghers,
having sent privately to Colonel Hay to let him know that they were
ready to revolt against the magistrates, who were Whigs, if he could
bring a sufficient force to back them up, that gentleman, with about
forty horse, shortly afterwards appeared before the town (though on the
wrong side of the river), and his friends, seizing the boats without
any resistance from the town, brought them all across the Tay. The
Whigs who were, we were told, terrified by the report of the approach
of the Earl of Mar with some thousands of Highlandmen, very meekly gave
up their arms to their adversaries, and took no more active part in
opposition than to ride post to Edinburgh to inform the Government of
what had happened.
To Perth, therefore, by degrees came flocking the noblemen and
gentlemen with their followers, who had agreed to join my Lord Mar.
The young Earl of Strathmore, a fine and gallant gentleman, with two
hundred of his men, was the first to arrive, and following him came
the Earl of Southesk with about the same number. My Lord Panmure, that
brave and staunch old hero, brought with him an hundred Highlandmen,
and two hundred from the Lowlands. My Lord Nairne and his son came
likewise; while the Master of Sinclair at the head of the Fifeshire
gentlemen, of whom he had assumed a kind of unofficial command, rode
away from home with our Godspeeds in his ears to join this gallant
company.
After the departure of that gentleman, we had more news from
headquarters than most people, I suppose; for the Master, being a
great scribe, thought little of penning more than one long letter of
an evening. So that my lord, his father, and his sister Betty, were
constantly receiving despatches. I cannot but own that the picture he
drew was far from encouraging. The Earl of Mar was not yet come to
Perth, nor General Hamilton with his troops, and every man did what
seemed right in his own eyes. The lack of order and discipline to a
man accustomed to the ways of tried soldiers must indeed have been
vexatious, and even making allowance, as we all half laughingly did,
for the trend of the Master’s temper and the _sharpness of his pen_
there was much in his accounts to make my lord shake his head, and keep
us all somewhat anxious.
One thing that greatly annoyed him was the indifferent way in which
some of the gentlemen, who ought not to have exposed themselves, rode
about the country alone on the smallest excuse. They were constantly
returning home on one pretext or another, generally on the plea of
getting fresh supplies of money; spending perhaps a night or two
away from camp, and returning with the utmost carelessness in broad
daylight. Again and again the Master told us he had warned them
that they would be kidnapped, and at last what he predicted really
happened. Our friend, Sir Thomas Bruce, riding home on some such
errand, was taken by a party of dragoons, under Lord Rothes, near to
the town of Kinross, and carried prisoner to Leslie House.
“And serve him right!” cried Betty indignantly, when we heard of it.
“He should have listened to my brother’s warning.”
About this time we heard that the Earl of Sutherland had landed at
Leith from England, and had sailed north to his own county, of which
he had lately been made Lord-lieutenant, to raise the Clans in that
neighbourhood in favour of the Government. This dashed our spirits a
little, but we had soon reason to be glad of it.
One evening about six o’clock, we were walking in the wood that borders
the shore between the Hermitage and the grim old Castle of Ravenscraig
which was now being allowed to fall into decay. My lady walked in front
with young Mr. Pitcairn at her side, and little Charles ran before her,
Betty and myself following. It had been a still, bright day, such as we
often get in the end of September in Scotland, and scarcely a ripple
rose to break upon the rocks. The sun was out of sight behind us, but
its full light shone upon the water, and the distant coast seemed very
far away. Some boats were in the Frith, but the air was so light that
their sails were almost useless; for though they filled enough to bear
the little crafts gently onward, in most of them the boatmen had taken
to the oars.
Suddenly Betty stood still, her keen eyes fixed on one of these tiny
barks, which seemed to be steering towards us; it was as yet too far
off for me to make out its occupants, but my companion had the eyes of
a hawk.
“Sister!” she cried, “the boat, do you see it?”
My lady turned and stood beside us, looking where she pointed.
“Surely, Bess, I see it--what then? ’Tis but a fishing-boat going out
for the night.”
“Nay, my dear,” laughed Betty, “there you are wrong. Can you not see?
They are making signals.” And snatching her kerchief from her neck she
waved it above her head.
“Take care, my woman!” cried her sister, catching at her arm, “that is
a dangerous thing to do. You know not who it is, Betty. Do you want
every Tom, Dick, and Harry to land at the Hermitage? One would take you
for a child at times, so rashly do you act.”
But Betty’s cheeks were red and her eyes bright with excitement, while
she still gazed eagerly at the boat. Presently, when the little bark
was heading for the harbour just below us, and we could all see in it
the figure of a man in a travelling-cloak, she twisted her kerchief
again round her neck and began to walk quickly forward.
“You may trust me, my dear Catherine,” she said, “I know their signals.
’Tis one of our party, though I know not who, as yet. Let us meet him
at the stair-foot.”
We passed down the rough-hewn stone steps that led to the harbour,
David Pitcairn leading and Betty close behind. As the boat touched, the
traveller, who was now on his feet, sprang out, and, with hat in hand,
stood looking up at us.
“Why?” cried my lady, “’tis Mr. James Murray! You were right, Bess,
’tis a friend indeed. Welcome home, sir! Are you but newly from France?”
The last words were added in a whisper, as the young man bent to kiss
her hand. He nodded silently, and turned to fee his boatmen (very
liberally, to judge from the satisfaction on their faces). They handed
him up a box, which David with a laugh, and in spite of the other’s
protest, swung upon his shoulder, and we all started again for the
house.
“Was it you, Mistress Elizabeth, who answered my signal?” asked the
traveller. “I was surprised to find you could see mine from so far.
Had I not caught sight of you ladies in the wood, I should not have
ventured, I fear, to approach the house.”
“Why not, Mr. Murray? My lord will be over-joyed to see you,” cried
Betty. “’Tis many months since you left us. How is the King? Is this
your first return?”
“Yes, madam, I have been in France since April, and come now with
good news for the Earl of Mar. I arrived in Edinburgh this morning,
disguised, having travelled by way of England; but when I left France,
his Majesty was well and in good spirits.”
“Then, indeed, you are welcome to us all,” cried my lady, and with this
we were come to the front door, and our guest was ushered in with every
expression of hospitality.
Supper was hurried forward, and entertainment of the best was bestowed
upon the traveller. I had gathered that this Mr. Murray was second son
to the Viscount of Stormont, and a trusted friend of King James. We
learned now that his Majesty had appointed him Secretary of State for
the affairs of Scotland, and while we knew that he carried the Royal
Commission to the Earl of Mar, he whispered, under seal of solemn
secrecy, that he brought also a Patent creating him a Duke. This news
was greeted with all joy and approval, and we drank to the health of
the Duke of Mar.
“Pray, sir,” said the elder Mr. Pitcairn, for David had been sent in
haste to bid his uncle to supper, “can you give us any news of the
King’s movements?”
“I give you my word, sir,” was the reply, “that his Majesty is resolved
to cross very shortly; but the roads in France are all guarded, and it
will not be without difficulty that he reaches the coast. My Lord Stair
would not be grieved overmuch were his Majesty to fall into the hands
of some convenient highwayman.”
“Oh!” cried Betty, in horror, “you cannot mean, sir, that he wishes for
his death?”
“That, Mistress Betty, is a harsh manner of speaking, but the
Ambassador certainly thinks that King James is in the way.”
“God preserve him,” breathed the minister, “from the hands of wicked
men.”
“Amen!” cried my lord. “And what, sir, is being done in the way of
material assistance, for of that we have heard a vast deal, though
nothing has been seen.”
“When I left France, my lord, there were ships in the ports of Havre,
St. Malo, and other places, twelve ships of war in all, with several
swift frigates being loaded with great store of ammunition--small arms,
shells, bullets, and some pieces of artillery, while soldiers and
officers in abundance only waited their orders to embark.”
“God be praised!” cried my lord, “this sounds like reality at last. If
only they do not delay, but strike, as the saying is, while the iron is
hot.”
“And what of the Duke of Berwick?” asked his younger son, William.
Here Mr. Murray looked uncomfortable and made no reply for a moment,
but presently he said he feared there had been trouble between the King
and his half-brother, of which he could give no details, but he now
believed the Duke would not take part in the expedition at all.
“The more’s the pity!” he added, “for there is no doubt that he is a
good and brave man, as well as a skilful general.”
It is needless to say that we were all very much cast down at this
news, for our opinion of the Duke had always been that of Mr. Murray,
and we had been led to hope great things from his assistance. We talked
the matter over, and again fell back upon the hope that the Duke of
Ormond, though inferior in skill, might take his place in England. We
discussed it far into the night, until my lady, rising, protested that
Mr. Murray must have some rest, seeing he intended starting in search
of the Earl of Mar, whose whereabouts was uncertain, early the next day.
But on the morrow as we sat at breakfast a despatch was brought in
from the Master of Sinclair, which saved the important messenger any
unnecessary delay. The Earl, he said, had arrived at Perth with a
large following of Highlanders the day before. The companies already
in the town were drawn out on the North Inch to receive him, and our
informant added that my Lord Mar had already begun to stick thorns in
his (the Master’s) side, by his arrogant assumption of authority and
infallibility. As her brother could not mention this nobleman’s name
without some sign of irritation, my lady smilingly suppressed this
addition, and assuring Mr. Murray of our delight in having had the good
fortune to waylay and entertain him, we bade him a hearty adieu.