On the night in question, Big Swankie and a likeminded companion, who
went among his comrades by the name of the Badger, had planned to commit
a burglary in the town, and it chanced that the former was about that
business when Captain Ogilvy unexpectedly ran against him and Davy
Spink.
Spink, although a smuggler, and by no means a particularly respectable
man, had not yet sunk so low in the scale of life as to be willing to
commit burglary. Swankie and the Badger suspected this, and, although
they required his assistance much, they were afraid to ask him to join,
lest he should not only refuse, but turn against them. In order to get
over the difficulty, Swankie had arranged to suggest to him the robbery
of a store containing gin, which belonged to a smuggler, and, if he
agreed to that, to proceed further and suggest the more important matter
in hand. But he found Spink proof against the first attack.
"I tell 'ee, I'll hae naething to do wi't," said he, when the proposal
was made.
"But," urged Swankie, "he's a smuggler, and a cross-grained hound
besides. It's no' like robbin' an honest man."
"An' what are _we_ but smugglers?" retorted Spink; "an' as to bein'
cross-grained, you've naethin' to boast o' in that way. Na, na,
Swankie, ye may do't yersel, I'll hae nae hand in't. I'll no objec' to
tak a bit keg o' Auchmithie water [smuggled spirits] noo and then, or to
pick up what comes to me by the wund and sea, but I'll steal frae nae
man."
"Ay, man, but ye've turned awfu' honest all of a suddent," said the
other with a sneer. "I wonder the thretty sovereigns I gied ye the
other day, when we tossed for them and the case o' kickshaws, havena'
brunt yer pooches."
Davy Spink looked a little confused.
"Aweel," said he, "it's o' nae use greetin' ower spilt milk, the thing's
done and past noo, and I canna help it. Sae guidnight to 'ee."
Swankie, seeing that it was useless to attempt to gain over his comrade,
and knowing that the Badger was waiting impatiently for him near the
appointed house, hurried away without another word, and Davy Spink
strolled towards his home, which was an extremely dirty little hut, near
the harbour.
At the time of which we write, the town of Arbroath was neither so well
lighted nor so well guarded as it now is. The two burglars found
nothing to interfere with their deeds of darkness, except a few bolts
and bars, which did not stand long before their expert hands.
Nevertheless, they met with a check from an unexpected quarter.
The house they had resolved to break into was inhabited by a widow lady,
who was said to be wealthy, and who was known to possess a considerable
quantity of plate and jewels. She lived alone, having only one old
servant and a little girl to attend upon her. The house stood on a
piece of ground not far from the ruins of the stately abbey which
originated and gave celebrity to the ancient town of Aberbrothoc. Mrs
Stewart's house was full of Eastern curiosities, some of them of great
value, which had been sent to her by her son, then a major in the East
India Company's service.
Now, it chanced that Major Stewart had arrived from India that very day,
on leave of absence, all unknown to the burglars, who, had they been
aware of the fact, would undoubtedly have postponed their visit to a
more convenient season.
As it was, supposing they had to deal only with the old lady and her two
servants, they began their work between twelve and one that night, with
considerable confidence, and in great hopes of a rich booty.
A small garden surrounded the old house. It was guarded by a wall about
eight feet high, the top of which bristled with bottle-glass. The old
lady and her domestics regarded this terrible-looking defence with much
satisfaction, believing in their innocence that no human creature could
succeed in getting over it. Boys, however, were their only dread, and
fruit their only care, when they looked complacently at the bottle-glass
on the wall, and, so far, they were right in their feeling of security,
for boys found the labour, risk, and danger to be greater than the worth
of the apples and pears.
But it was otherwise with men. Swankie and the Badger threw a piece of
thick matting on the wall; the former bent down, the latter stepped upon
his back, and thence upon the mat; then he hauled his comrade up, and
both leaped into the garden.
Advancing stealthily to the door, they tried it and found it locked.
The windows were all carefully bolted, and the shutters barred. This
they expected, but thought it as well to try each possible point of
entrance, in the hope of finding an unguarded spot before having
recourse to their tools. Such a point was soon found, in the shape of a
small window, opening into a sort of scullery at the back of the house.
It had been left open by accident. An entrance was easily effected by
the Badger, who was a small man, and who went through the house with the
silence of a cat, towards the front door. There were two lobbies, an
inner and an outer, separated from each other by a glass door.
Cautiously opening both doors, the Badger admitted his comrade, and then
they set to work.
A lantern, which could be uncovered or concealed in a moment, enabled
them to see their way.
"That's the dinin'-room door," whispered the Badger.
"Hist! haud yer jaw," muttered Swankie; "I ken that as weel as you."
Opening the door, they entered and found the plate-chest under the
sideboard.
It was open, and a grin of triumph crossed the sweet countenances of the
friends as they exchanged glances, and began to put silver forks and
spoons by the dozen into a bag which they had brought for the purpose.
When they had emptied the plate-chest, they carried the bag into the
garden, and, climbing over the wall, deposited it outside. Then they
returned for more.
Now, old Mrs Stewart was an invalid, and was in the habit of taking a
little weak wine and water before retiring to rest at night. It chanced
that the bottle containing the port wine had been left on the sideboard,
a fact which was soon discovered by Swankie, who put the bottle to his
mouth, and took a long pull.
"What is't?" enquired the Badger, in a low tone.
"Prime!" replied Swankie, handing over the bottle, and wiping his mouth
with the cuff of his coat.
The Badger put the bottle to his mouth, but unfortunately for him, part
of the liquid went down the "wrong throat". The result was that the
poor man coughed, once, rather loudly. Swankie, frowning fiercely, and
shaking his fist, looked at him in horror; and well he might, for the
Badger became first red and then purple in the face, and seemed as if he
were about to burst with his efforts to keep down the cough. It came,
however, three times, in spite of him,--not violently, but with
sufficient noise to alarm them, and cause them to listen for five
minutes intently ere they ventured to go on with their work, in the
belief that no one had been disturbed.
But Major Stewart had been awakened by the first cough. He was a
soldier who had seen much service, and who slept lightly. He raised
himself in his bed, and listened intently on hearing the first cough.
The second cough caused him to spring up and pull on his trousers; the
third cough found him halfway downstairs, with a boot-jack in his hand,
and when the burglars resumed work he was peeping at them through the
half-open door.
Both men were stooping over the plate-chest, the Badger with his back to
the door, Swankie with his head towards it. The major raised the
boot-jack and took aim. At the same moment the door squeaked, Big
Swankie looked up hastily, and, in technical phraseology, "doused the
glim." All was dark in an instant, but the boot-jack sped on its way
notwithstanding. The burglars were accustomed to fighting, however, and
dipped their heads. The boot-jack whizzed past, and smashed the
pier-glass on the mantelpiece to a thousand atoms. Major Stewart being
expert in all the devices of warfare, knew what to expect, and drew
aside. He was not a moment too soon, for the dark lantern flew through
the doorway, hit the opposite wall, and fell with a loud clatter on the
stone floor of the lobby. The Badger followed at once, and received a
random blow from the major that hurled him head over heels after the
lantern.
There was no mistaking the heavy tread and rush of Big Swankie as he
made for the door. Major Stewart put out his foot, and the burglar
naturally tripped over it; before he could rise the major had him by the
throat. There was a long, fierce struggle, both being powerful men; at
last Swankie was hurled completely through the glass door. In the fall
he disengaged himself from the major, and, leaping up, made for the
garden wall, over which he succeeded in clambering before the latter
could seize him. Thus both burglars escaped, and Major Stewart returned
to the house half-naked,--his shirt having been torn off his back,--and
bleeding freely from cuts caused by the glass door.
Just as he re-entered the house, the old cook, under the impression that
the cat had got into the pantry, and was smashing the crockery, entered
the lobby in her nightdress, shrieked "Mercy on us!" on beholding the
major, and fainted dead away.
Major Stewart was too much annoyed at having failed to capture the
burglars to take any notice of her. He relocked the door, and assuring
his mother that it was only robbers, and that they had been beaten off,
retired to his room, washed and dressed his wounds, and went to bed.
Meanwhile Big Swankie and the Badger, laden with silver, made for the
shore, where they hid their treasure in a hole.
"I'll tell 'ee a dodge," said the Badger.
"What may that be?" enquired Swankie.
"You said ye saw Ruby Brand slinking down the market-gate, and that's
he's off to sea?"
"Ay, and twa or three more folk saw him as weel as me."
"Weel, let's tak' up a siller spoon, or somethin', an' put it in the
auld wife's garden, an' they'll think it was him that did it."
"No' that bad!" said Swankie, with a chuckle.
A silver fork and a pair of sugar-tongs bearing old Mrs Stewart's
initials were accordingly selected for this purpose, and placed in the
little garden in the front of Widow Brand's cottage.
Here they were found in the morning by Captain Ogilvy, who examined them
for at least half-an-hour in a state of the utmost perplexity. While he
was thus engaged one of the detectives of the town happened to pass,
apparently in some haste.
"Hallo! shipmate," shouted the captain.
"Well?" responded the detective.
"Did ye ever see silver forks an' sugar-tongs growin' in a garden
before?"
"Eh?" exclaimed the other, entering the garden hastily; "let me see.
Oho! this may throw some light on the matter. Did you find them here?"
"Ay, on this very spot."
"Hum. Ruby went away last night, I believe?"
"He did."
"Some time after midnight?" enquired the detective.
"Likely enough," said the captain, "but my chronometer ain't quite so
reg'lar since we left the sea; it might ha' bin more,--mayhap less."
"Just so. You saw him off?"
"Ay; but you seem more than or'nar inquisitive to-day--"
"Did he carry a bundle?" interrupted the detective.
"Ay, no doubt."
"A large one?"
"Ay, a goodish big 'un."
"Do you know what was in it?" enquired the detective, with a knowing
look.
"I do, for I packed it," replied the captain; "his kit was in it."
"Nothing more?"
"Nothin' as I knows of."
"Well, I'll take these with me just now," said the officer, placing the
fork and sugar-tongs in his pocket. "I'm afraid, old man, that your
nephew has been up to mischief before he went away. A burglary was
committed in the town last night, and this is some of the plate. You'll
hear more about it before long, I dare say. Good day to ye."
So saying, the detective walked quickly away, and left the captain in
the centre of the garden staring vacantly before him in speechless
amazement.