THE OUTFACING OF CLAVERS.
It was indeed a wonderful sight and made our hearts beat high only to
look at it. Upon the Session Stone twelve men stood with heads bared to
the fierce heat of the sun. All of them were grey-headed men, saving two
only, a lad of a pale and girlish face with dark sweet eyes, and
towering above him, the flecked raven locks of Sir Robert Hamilton.
These twelve were the commissioners of districts, all ordained elders.
At one side was a little table brought from the house of the Shalloch,
and a man sat at it busily writing. By a curious sword cut across his
cheek, I knew him for Michael Shields, presently the clerk, and
afterwards the historian of the United Societies.
Behind upon the hillside was drawn up a guard of two hundred horse. And
the tossing bits and jingling accoutrements made a pleasant sound to me
that loved such things, which were mostly the portion of our enemies.
The wide amphitheatre opposite to the Session Stone was occupied chiefly
by the women and older men, who, as I have said, sat upon plaids spread
upon the bank. Behind these again, and extending far up the gently
sloping side of the Shalloch Hill, was a noble sight, that made me gasp
for gladness. Company behind company were ranked the men whom Robert
Hamilton had called the Seven Thousand. There were officers on their
flanks, on whose drawn swords the sun glittered; and though there was no
uniformity of dress, there was in every bonnet the blue favour of the
Covenant. Their formation was so steady and their numbers so large that
the whole hillside seemed covered with their regiments. Looking back
over the years, I think we might have risked a Dunkeld before the time
with such an ordered host.
I heard one speaking in the French language at my elbow and looked about
me. Whereupon I spied two men who had been walking to and fro among the
companies.
"But all this will do little good for a time," said one of the speakers.
"We must keep them out of the field till we are ready. They need one to
draw them into the bond of obedience. They are able to fight singly, but
together they cannot fight."
"No matter," said the other, "they will stand us in good stead one day
when the Prince sails over. The Seven Thousand shall be our mainstay in
that day, not in Scotland only, but in Britain."
By this I guessed that these two were officers of the Prince of Orange
sent over to see if the times were yet ripe.
Meanwhile the meeting proceeded to its end amid the voice of prayer and
the solemn throb of psalmody. It was a great and gracious thing to hear
the swell of praise that went up from that hillside, from the men who
had worshipped only in the way of silence and in private, because they
dared no other, for many weary months.
It was about the third hour of the afternoon, and we had not begun to
wax weary, when, away on the hillside, we heard the sound of cheering.
We looked about us to see what might be the cause. There came one riding
slowly down upon a much tired horse between the ranks of the
companies--a great tall man in a foreign coat and hat, whom at the first
glint my mother knew for Sandy my brother.
As he came nearer the roar of greeting swelled and lifted. I declare I
was proud of him. Even Robert Hamilton had gotten no such greeting. I
had not thought that our Sandy was so well-kenned a man. And I forgave
him for flouting me.
"Mother," I said, "that is our Sandy they are cheering!"
"Think ye I kenned not that! Whaur has he come frae?" she said. "I
wonder if Jean Hamilton kens."
It was like my mother to think first of others; but in a little she
said,
"I trust I am not overproud, that my bairn is so honoured."
And indeed it made us all proud that Sandy was thus greatly thought of.
So in a little he also took his place on the Session Stone, and made
another young head among the grey beards. Soon he was called upon to
speak, and in his sounding voice he began to tell of his message from
the kirks of Holland, and to commend patience and faithfulness. They say
that every man that stood to arms among the Seven Thousand heard him
that day. Aye, and that even the watchers upon the tops caught many
blessed words and expressions, which the light winds blew them in wafts.
Saving Richard Cameron's alone, there was no such voice as Sandy's heard
in Scotland during all his time.
Then Robert Hamilton rose and spoke, counselling that since there were
so many present, they should once more and immediately fall to arms.
But one of the most venerable men there present, rose.
"Robin, ye are but one of the Council of Twelve, and ye know that our
decision is to wait the man and the hour. It beseems you, then, either
to speak within the order of the Society or to be silent."
Last of all the young man rose, he of the pale countenance and the
clustering hair.
"It is young Mr. James Renwick, who is going abroad to study and be
ordained at Groningen in the Low Countries," said one near to me. And
indeed he was mightily changed so that I had scarce known him.
The lad's voice was sweet and thrilling, persuasive beyond belief. In
especial, coming after the mighty roaring of the Bull of Earlstoun (so
they called Sandy) and the rasping shriek of Robin Hamilton, it had a
great effect upon me. There came a sough from the people as his words
ran over them, like a soothing and fanning wind blowing winningly among
the trees of the wood.
So the day passed and the gladness of the people increased, till some of
us felt that it was like the golden gates of heaven just to be there.
For the passion of a multitude of folk with one heart's desire,
thrilling to the one word and the one hope, had taken hold on us. The
like was never seen upon the wild mountains of the south.
Then, as though to recall us to earth, from the green meads of the
Minnoch side there came one running to pass the word that the enemy was
in sight. Two companies of Strachan's Dragoons, with all Claverhouse's
levies, were riding from Straiton as fast as their horses could carry
them. Whereat, without haste and with due solemnity, the great and
desirable General Meeting of the United Societies held on the wilds of
Shalloch-on-Minnoch was brought to an end.
The women and aged men were placed behind the companies, and such as
could reach home without passing the troopers' line of march were set
upon their way. But when once we found ourselves without the lines of
the companies, which stretched across from the black downthrow of rocks
upon Craigfacie to the Rig of the Shalloch Hill, my mother would go no
farther.
"Na," she said, "gang your ways back doon. This is the place for Kate
and for an auld wife like me. But it shall never be said that William
Gordon's wife grudged both her sons to the work of the Lord!"
So Wat and I went our ways down to where Sandy stood as chosen leader of
the army of the Seven Thousand. He paid, indeed, but little attention to
us, giving us no more than a nod, yet instantly setting us upon errands
for him.
"Will ye fight?" said I, when I got a quiet moment of him.
"Alas!" he said, "there is no such good luck. Had I not the direct
message of the Prince to abide and wait, I would even now strike a blow.
As it is, we must just stand to our arms. I would to God it were
otherwise!"
The companies of mounted soldiers rapidly approached, to the number of
perhaps three hundred. But I think they were daunted, when from a knoll
below the house of the Shalloch they first saw our great and imposing
army. They say there were over two thousand under arms that day.
"The Seven Thousand will surely stay John Graham this day," said one at
my elbow.
But Claverhouse was not a man easily feared.
Leaving his men, he rode forward alone, having but a trumpeter someway
behind him. He held a white hand-kerchief in his hand, and waved it as
he rode towards us upon his war-horse. I saw the trumpeter lad look
about him more than once, as if he wished himself well out of it. But
Colonel Graham rode straight at the centre of our array as if it had
been his own. Sandy went out to meet him.
"Will ye surrender and lay down your arms to the King's troops?" cried
Clavers as he came near. Since then I have never denied the man courage,
for all his cruelty.
There came a gust of laughter from the nearer companies of our array
when they heard his words. But Sandy checked the noise with his hand.
"Surrender!" he said. "It is you, John Graham, that may talk of
surrender this day. We are no rebels. We but stand to our arms in
defence of our covenant rights."
"Keep that Whig garbage for the prayer-meeting, Earlstoun!" said
Claverhouse. "I at least know you too well, Sandy Gordon. Do you mind
the long wood of Dairsie by the Eden Water?"
What he meant I cannot tell, but I think his words daunted Sandy for a
moment. For in his old unsanctified days they had been fast comrades,
being of an age, and student lads together at Saint Andrews, where both
were equally keen of the play upon the green; though ever since Sandy
married Jean Hamilton he had turned him to new courses.
So having obtained no satisfaction, Claverhouse rode slowly back to the
Dragoons. Then without a word, save the shout of command, he led them
forward over the moor toward us.
"Sain my soul and body," said Wat, "is the Heather Cat going to charge
an army in position?" And indeed, it looked like it.
But as he came toward us, from the front rank where Sandy stood with a
broadsword bare in his hand, and his horse brisk as though it had just
been led from its stall, came my brother's voice.
"If ye set a horse's hoof over that burn, ye shall receive our fire.
Men, make ready!"
Right up to the burn bank rode Clavers and his troop, and there halted.
For a long minute he looked at us very contemptuously. Then he snapped
his fingers at us.
"That for ye!" he cried. "Ye stand the day. Ye shall be scattered the
morn. I ken ye brawly. Among a' your testimonies there is not one which
any three of ye could read over and not fall out about. This day ye are
on the brae-face. The morn ye'll be at the dyke back, with an ounce or
two of his Majesty's excellent lead in ye. God save the King!"
And with that he waved his hand, cried to his men, and rode off like the
steeve and dour persecutor that he was.
In the late evening we took my mother and Kate back again over the hill.
My mother was very weary--so weary that at the house of Tonskeen we left
her with the decent man and wife that abode there, with Kate to bear her
company. She was not used to the life on the hills, and so for that time
could flee no further. It was just grey day when we took the short way
down the face of the gairy, that lifts its brow over the desolate moor
of Macaterick. Being unencumbered with women folk, Wat and I now came
down the nearest way, that which leads by the strange rocky hollow,
steep on every side, which is named the Maiden's Bed. So, fleet of foot,
we fled westwards.
As we looked, the sun began to rise over the Range of Kells and the tide
of light flowed in upon us, gladdening our hearts. Wat was not so brisk
as I, for he had left Kate behind; and though young men in times of
danger have perforce to think of their skins first and of their maids
after, yet it makes not the foot move so light when it must step out
away from the beloved.
But all the same, it was a bright morning when we clambered down the
steep side of the hill that looks toward Macaterick. The feathery face
of the rock above the levels of Macaterick, and the burn that flows from
it by links and shallows into Loch Doon, glanced bright with the morning
sun upon them. And there at last was the cave-mouth hidden under the
boskage of the leaves.
I ran on before Wat, outstripping him, albeit that for ordinary he was
more supple than I--so great was my desire to see Maisie Lennox, and
assure myself that all had gone well with her father. I had not a
thought but that she would be sitting safely within, with the cave
garnished with fresh leaves like a bower, and her father watching her at
her knitting through his bushy eyebrows.
Smiling, I lifted the curtain of birch leaves. Great God of Heaven! The
cave was wholly empty, as I slid down into it. Maisie and her father had
vanished!
I stood as one desperately amazed. There was no life or thought or soul
left in me. I stood as one stands at the threshold of his home, before
whom a gulf suddenly yawns fathomless.