TELLS HOW MISTRESS BETTY HAD A BRILLIANT NOTION, AND OF HOW IT WAS
CARRIED OUT
It seemed to us all in those days that Fortune was playing a game of
_see-saw_ with us and our hopes. No sooner were we elated by some
piece of good luck, than something happened of the reverse order to
cast us down into the depths of depression. Two days after the visit
of Mr. James Murray, news was sent to Mr. Harry Straton in Edinburgh
that, following hard upon his track, came one, Mr. Ezekiel Hamilton to
wit, with very evil tidings. The Regent, Orleans, to whom we had been
told to look for help, had proved himself the very reverse, for he had
caused the ships, of which Mr. Murray had spoken with such confidence,
to be unloaded of all the arms and ammunition, and it was added that
Admiral Byng had leave from him to search all ships coming from Havre
and other ports to Scotland. Here was a blow to our hopes, and we were
just where we had been, or perhaps a little lower in the scale of
unhappiness in consequence of the severity of our disappointment.
“Ah!” sighed my lady, “you see my dear Sir John was right. He
mistrusted the Regent, and indeed feared he would do us harm. Was ever
king so unjustly treated, or surrounded by so much treachery!”
“Oh,” cried Betty, “would to God I could do something to help! How
terrible it is to be a weak woman in times like these! Come, Barbara,
let us at least get to horse, and ride out and hear some news. I shall
go mad if I stay cooped in the house another hour.”
Nothing loth, I did as she bade me, and we were soon upon the road. She
had refused to take a servant, “for,” said she, “if we hear any secrets
we must keep them to ourselves.”
“We are not like to hear many, my dear,” said I, “for there is no one
to tell them to us. See, as far as I can look along the road, there is
not a soul in sight. How far shall we go? ’tis getting late to be out
alone!”
“Oh, fear not, child!” cried Betty, shortly. “Naught can happen to us
here, where all the world knows us. Pray do me the favour to be silent.
I wish to think.”
It was a quiet bright evening, with the first touch of frost to make
the air keen upon our faces. On and on we rode till the houses of
Burntisland came in view. When we were near the town, Betty pulled her
horse to a walk, and pointing to the harbour, bade me look at a little
ship anchored in the roadstead.
“I wonder whence it comes and what it contains,” said she idly; and
I wondered at her interest, for there were several vessels in the
harbour, and ships were constantly coming and going in the Frith, so
that there was nothing to distinguish this in any particular way.
Not deeming it prudent to go into the town, as the evening was
darkening down and we two women alone, Betty stopped at a little inn at
the entrance of the street, where the wife was one Janet Spiers, who
had formerly been cook-maid at the Hermitage. Rapping on the door with
her whip-handle, Betty soon brought the good woman out, who, on seeing
the quality of her visitors, overwhelmed us with kind requests to come
in and rest.
“Why, Jenny,” said Betty, “we do not mean to alight; ’tis close on
seven o’clock and the days are growing short. We did but ride this way
to take the air, and being so near your house I stopped to ask for your
gudeman.”
“Thank ye kindly, Mistress ’Lizabeth,” said the woman, “he’s real weel.
The hoast was sair on him a while back, but sin’ the hairst he’s ta’en
up fine.”
They chatted together for a few minutes, and upon my remarking on the
number of ships in the harbour, Janet Spiers pointed to the very vessel
which had attracted the attention of Betty a short while back, and
asked her if she knew what it contained.
“Why, no,” said Betty, “nothing very valuable I should say.”
The woman tossed her head with a contemptuous smile.
“Ye wad wonder!” she cried. “What think ye, Mistress Betty? There’s
fire-arms intilt, and pouther and bullets and a’, and what for? To send
awa’ north to my Lord Sutherland for him tae arm his men and gar them
fecht for the English King. Set him up indeed! I’m for King Jamie, ye
ken, my leddy, as ye are yersel’.”
“Arms!” cried Betty, in great surprise, “arms and ammunition! But where
do they come from, and what do they here?”
“Weel, weel,” said Janet Spiers, “they were shipped at Leith frae the
Castle at Edinbro’, but the chiel that’s maister o’ the ship is a
Bruntisland man. He lives down bye in the close there, forenent the
quay. He’s been awa’ this three weeks, and as he kent the gudewife was
near her time, he couldna think tae sail awa’ north without spierin’
for her. Aweel, she was brocht tae bed o’ a fine laddie this morn, and
naethin’ wad satisfy the creatur (a spoilt quean she is), but keep her
man by her for a wee. An’ he, honest man, was sweer tae leave her, and
sae, there he is, and there’s his ship, and there’s nae hurry aboot
sailing, that I can see.”
“How long will he stay, think ye, Jenny?” said Betty, and I could hear
a thrill of excitement in her voice.
“Till the morn’s nicht at the full o’ the tide, onyway,” said the
other, “an’ maybe langer.”
“And how many stands of arms did they tell you the ship contained?” she
asked.
“Oh,” said Jenny, doubtfully, “twa-three thoosan’, maybe.”
“Dear me!” cried Betty, “my Lord Sutherland will be lucky to get them.
Well, Jenny, we must say good-night, and ride fast to get home before
the darkness falls. Come, Barbara.”
And away we went again upon the homeward road, while the land behind us
darkened, and the first bright star shone out above us in the pale sky.
So fast rode Betty that I was soon out of breath and called out to her
to stop, but she only urged her beast to the utmost, and left me to
follow some way behind. What had come to her I wondered; could she be
afraid of the approaching night? But no, fear and Betty were not well
acquainted, and I soon dismissed the thought. My dear friend was full
of whims, and her mind I knew was greatly disturbed. I did my best to
keep up with her, and bent my attention on the road we had to follow.
It was almost dark when we came abreast of the Town-House of Dysart
(for straight into the town we had ridden), and the place was nearly
empty. Betty stopped abruptly and seemed to be considering what to do
next. A man came out of Quality Street and turned towards us, and in
the dim light we both recognised Mr. David Pitcairn.
“David, oh, _David_!” cried Betty, not loud but with an intensity of
feeling in her tone which would have carried her words much further,
and in a few quick strides he was beside us.
How clearly I remember his appearance as he stood there with his
hand upon her horse’s neck, and his fine face lifted to hers in the
twilight. So well I knew the devotion that filled his soul, though none
had told me of it, that I felt sure, whatever she asked of him, he
would then and there consent.
“Dear David,” said Betty, “you are the very man I was hoping to see,”
and my heart contracted at the words, knowing what they must mean to
him. “I have a project, ’tis formed within the last half-hour. There is
something you must do for me--nay, not for me, for the King, David--and
if you love me you will not refuse.”
Ah! Betty, was it kind to put it thus? But what woman would have
refrained from using her sweetness as a lure in a like case?
“If I love you, Betty!” said he, very gravely. “Have I ever refused you
anything you required of me?”
Even at that moment I saw her falter. Was she putting him to a test too
hard?
“Then walk with us along the shore, where no envious ears can overhear
us. Oh! David, such a chance, such good fortune as never could have
been expected! I can scarce restrain myself from laughing aloud. But
we must be quiet. It must be kept secret; no one shall know but you,
and Barbara, and my lord. ’Tis better so.” So fast she talked, and
appeared so excited, that I almost feared her agitation would overcome
her, but by-and-bye when we were beyond the houses she spoke more
quietly.
“Listen, David. There is lying outside the harbour of Burntisland at
this moment, a ship filled with arms and ammunition intended for the
Earl of Sutherland in the north. You can guess what he means to do with
them. There they are now for anyone to take, for the master, poor fool,
is grinning over the cradle of his new-born son; and the crew, I dare
swear, are as pleasantly, if less innocently, employed about the town.
Now we must, by hook or by crook, get those arms for our own. Three
thousand stands, David, and much powder and bullets, think what a haul!
Is it not splendid?”
“Magnificent!” said David, smiling. “But do you propose my boarding the
vessel alone in the night, and bearing them away on my back, Betty?”
“Nay!” she cried, reproachfully, “I am not so foolish. But this I
propose: my brother, the Master, must be told of it; he will know what
to do. He will come with a troop from Perth, and take them by force
if necessary. But it must be done at once, and in as secret a way as
possible. The ship will sail to-morrow at midnight, with the tide.
Someone--you, dear David, must go this night to Perth, carrying a
despatch from me, which I will write presently; and you must ride in
hot haste, so as to be there by daybreak, and lose no time in waking my
brother and telling him of the matter. He may have to consult my Lord
of Mar, but no one, I think, will be so mad as to neglect this great
opportunity.”
David walked along slowly, his eyes on the ground. He was between us,
and I listened for his answer as eagerly as Betty. To my surprise it
was long of coming, and my companion, still more astonished, broke out
again impatiently.
“You will not refuse, David! ’Tis not so hard a task. A night in the
saddle cannot mean much to you. Why do you hesitate? I thought--”
Then he lifted his head and looked at her in quiet wonder.
“Do you mean to say you doubt me, Betty! I was but thinking out my best
road. And my horse has been out all day.”
So, I suppose, had he, but Betty did not notice the admission.
“You shall have the best horse in my lord’s stables!” she cried,
joyfully. “You shall choose for yourself. Oh no, I did not doubt you,
David. I _knew_ you would do it. There is no one more faithful and
true.”
And she cast upon him a look so sweet and kind that I, not knowing the
secrets of this wayward woman-heart, began to think for the first time
that, for her patient squire, the reward he wished might not be quite
impossible. He lifted the little hand that hung down beside him, and
raised it to his lips.
“And what shall my payment be?” he asked.
But even as if he scorned his own question, he hurried forward to push
open the gate, and Betty rode up to the house in silence.
My Lord Sinclair was sitting down to supper when we entered the hall,
but his daughter, in her impetuous way, swept him with her into a
little room which stood empty, and beckoning to David and myself, she
bade us enter and shut the door. It did not take long to acquaint my
lord with our story, and he was heartily pleased to approve of Betty’s
plan. The sole objection that he made was that nothing should be
written; papers were dangerous, and Mr. Pitcairn might be waylaid, and
even searched.
“Let the message go by word of mouth,” said he. “David has brains
enough to deliver it as you give it to him, and my son knows him too
well to doubt that he comes from us.”
So it was arranged. David was to sup at the Hermitage, going after
to his uncle at the Manse to acquaint him with his intended venture.
A good horse was to be provided for him, and as soon as it was dark
enough, which would be by ten of the clock, he was to ride out of the
town and make his way to Perth. By riding all night, but keeping to
unfrequented ways, he would come there by five or six in the morning,
and he had instructions to find out the Master’s lodging, and rouse him
at once to receive the news.
You may imagine, at supper there were at least two of us with little
appetite, and my lady chid her sister for having ridden too far and
tired both herself and me. As soon as possible I escaped upstairs, and
right glad was I when my cousin joined me, to find that the secret had
been imparted to her. Indeed, I believe it might have been discussed
openly before all the house without any harm done, the entire household
being too faithful to my lord’s interests to breathe a word that would
endanger any of them.
As we sat and talked in the half-dark, for the room was lighted but by
one small taper, we heard the sounds of preparation in the stable-yard,
for upon that my window looked. I opened the casement and we leaned
out. A horse, ready saddled, stood there with a groom beside him! By
the feeble light of the lanthorn hung on the wall we could see his
grand form, and the proud lift of his head, as his nostrils snuffed the
cold night air.
“’Tis La Flèche!” my lady whispered, “the best horse my lord has left.”
Out of the low doorway leading from the kitchens came David Pitcairn,
booted and spurred, but with his hat in his hand. Behind him tripped
Betty, and with a word dismissed the groom, who shuffled back into
the stable. As Mr. Pitcairn stood ready to mount, Betty came close
to him, and spoke in a tone so low that it did not reach us. When he
answered her she took something from her bosom and held it out to him
in her open hand. The light gleamed on a little gold heart, and I
recognised a trinket that she was fond of wearing. With a smile she let
him take it, and with a smile he raised it to his lips. Just then the
town-clock struck ten. He caught hold of both her hands and kissed them
lingeringly, swung himself into the saddle, and waving his hat with
a cheerful “good-bye,” rode out into the darkness. For some minutes
we listened to the sound of the horse’s hoofs growing fainter in the
distance, and then we drew back into the room and closed the window.
My lady sighed. “Poor David!” she said softly.
“I wish,” cried I, “that Betty could be kinder to him, madam.”
“Alas! child,” said she, “Bess is already far too kind, and yet I know
she means no harm. She loves him in every way but one, and he worships
her with body, heart, and soul, as it is not good for any woman to be
worshipped.”
“You think she would not marry him?” I asked. My lady laughed, but not
unkindly.
“Oh, no!” she said. “I do not always understand my sister (I think at
times she scarce understands herself) but I am ready to wager my life’s
happiness that she will never be David Pitcairn’s wife.”
And at that moment the subject of our talk knocked at the door and
entered.
Her face was very pale, and her eyes burned bright with excitement. She
came in quietly, and sat down by us in silence. My lady put out her
hand, and laid it affectionately on her shoulder. By the glad, uplifted
look upon her face, we knew that she was deeply moved.
By-and-bye she spoke gravely, almost solemnly.
“Sister! Barbara! is it not strange that, after all, my passionate
desire to do something for the King has been gratified? Do you not
see the hand of God in it? What led us to ride in the direction of
Burntisland this evening, when we might as easily have gone the other
way? What prompted me to ask for Janet Spiers’ gudeman, who, I knew,
had lost his cough a month since; and above all, what induced the woman
to talk to us about that little ship? Oh, will it not be wonderful if,
by my means, the Government Army is defeated, and the Country turned
so loyal that when the King comes home he will have nothing to do but
ride to Holyrood and receive the loving homage of a united people.” She
waved her hands in a sort of delighted ecstasy, and ended with a laugh
so joyous that we were fain to join with her.
“God grant your beautiful dream comes true, my Betty!” cried my lady,
kissing her. “’Twas well thought out, your plan, and can hardly fail.
My brother is the man to attempt the enterprise, and seeing that arms
and ammunition are the things most needed, he will move heaven and
earth to get them. Let us think now of David Pitcairn riding through
the night, and pray that no harm may befall him.”
“Dear, faithful David!” murmured Betty. “I would trust him with all I
possess.”
“Except yourself!” said my lady slyly.
“I do not possess myself, sister!” said Betty, somewhat sharply. “Let
us go to bed and try to sleep off some of our excitement. It will soon
be Sunday morning, and I fear Mr. Pitcairn will have but an inattentive
listener in me, if I am calm enough to go to Kirk to-morrow.”
And soon after we parted, and went to bed with our various thoughts and
dreams.