THE TRENCH.
Malcolm had not yet, after all the health-giving of the voyage, entirely
recovered the effects of the ill-compounded potion. Indeed, sometimes
the fear crossed his mind that never would he be the same man
again--that the slow furnace of the grave alone would destroy the vile
deposit left in his house of life. Hence it came that he was weary, and
overslept himself the next morning; but it was no great matter: he had
yet time enough. He swallowed his breakfast as a working man alone can,
and set out for Duff Harbor. At Leith, where they had put in for
provisions, he had posted a letter to Mr. Soutar, directing him to have
Kelpie brought on to his own town, whence he would fetch her himself.
The distance was about ten miles, the hour eight, and he was a good
enough walker, although boats and horses had combined to prevent him, he
confessed, from getting over-fond of Shank's mare. To men who delight in
the motions of a horse under them the legs of a man are a tame, dull
means of progression, although they too have their superiorities; and
one of the disciplines of this world is to get out of the saddle and
walk afoot. He who can do so with perfect serenity must very nearly have
learned with Saint Paul in whatsoever state he is, therein to be
content. It was the loveliest of mornings, however, to be abroad in upon
any terms, and Malcolm hardly needed the resources of one who knew both
how to be abased and how to abound--enviable perfection!--for the
enjoyment of even a long walk. Heaven and earth were just settling to
the work of the day after their morning prayer, and the whole face of
things yet wore something of that look of expectation which one who
mingles the vision of the poet with the faith of the Christian may well
imagine to be their upward look of hope after a night of groaning and
travailing--the earnest gaze of the creature waiting for the
manifestation of the sons of God; and for himself, though the hardest
thing was yet to come, there was a satisfaction in finding himself
almost up to his last fence, with the heavy ploughed land through which
he had been floundering nearly all behind him; which figure means that
he had almost made up his mind what to do.
When he reached the Duff Arms he walked straight into the yard, where
the first thing he saw was a stable-boy in the air, hanging on to a
twitch on the nose of the rearing Kelpie. In another instant he would
have been killed or maimed for life, and Kelpie loose and scouring the
streets of Duff Harbor. When she heard Malcolm's voice and the sound of
his running feet she dropped as if to listen. He flung the boy aside and
caught her halter. Once or twice more she reared in the vain hope of so
ridding herself of the pain that clung to her lip and nose, nor did she,
through the mist of her anger and suffering, quite recognize her master
in his yacht-uniform. But the torture decreasing, she grew able to scent
his presence, welcomed him with her usual glad whinny, and allowed him
to to do with her as he would.
Having fed her, found Mr. Soutar and arranged several matters with him,
he set out for home.
That was a ride! Kelpie was mad with life. Every available field he
jumped her into, and she tore its element of space at least to shreds
with her spurning hoofs. But the distance was not great enough to quiet
her before they got to hard turnpike and young plantations. He would
have entered at the grand gate, but found no one at the lodge, for the
factor, to save a little, had dismissed the old keeper. He had therefore
to go on, and through the town, where, to the awe-stricken eyes of the
population peeping from doors and windows, it seemed as if the terrible
horse would carry him right over the roofs of the fisher-cottages below
and out to sea. "Eh, but he's a terrible cratur, that Ma'colm MacPhail!"
said the old wives to each other, and felt there must be something
wicked in him to ride like that.
But he turned her aside from the steep hill, and passed along the street
that led to the town-gate of the House. Whom should he see, as he turned
into it, but Mrs. Catanach, standing on her own doorstep, opposite the
descent to the Seaton, shading her eyes with her hand, and looking far
out over the water through the green smoke of the village below! It had
been her wont to gaze thus since ever he could remember her, though what
she could at such times be looking for, except it were the devil in
person, he found it hard to conjecture. At the sound of his approach she
turned; and such an expression crossed her face in a momentary flash ere
she disappeared in the house as added considerably to his knowledge of
fallen humanity. Before he reached her door she was out again, tying on
a clean white apron as she came, and smiling like a dark pool in
sunshine. She dropped a low curtsey, and looked as if she had been
occupying her house for months of his absence. But Malcolm would not
meet even cunning with its own weapons, and therefore turned away his
head and took no notice of her. She ground her teeth with the fury of
hate, and swore that she would yet disappoint him of his purpose,
whatever it were, in this masquerade of service. Her heart being
scarcely of the calibre to comprehend one like Malcolm's, her theories
for the interpretation of the mystery were somewhat wild and altogether
of a character unfit to see the light.
The keeper of the town-gate greeted Malcolm, as he let him in, with a
pleased old face and words of welcome, but added instantly, as if it was
no time for the indulgence of friendship, that it was a terrible
business going on at the Nose.
"What is it?" asked Malcolm in alarm.
"Ye hae been ower lang awa', I doobt," answered the man, "to ken hoo the
factor--But, Lord save ye! haud yer tongue," he interjected, looking
fearfully around him. "Gien he kenned 'at I said sic a thing, he wad
turn me oot o' hoose an' ha'."
"You've said nothing yet," returned Malcolm.
"I said _factor_, an' that same's 'maist eneuch, for he's like a roarin'
lion an' a ragin' bear amang the people; an' that sin' ever ye gaed. Bow
o' Meal said i' the meetin' the ither nicht 'at he bude to be the verra
man, the wickit ruler propheseed o' sae lang sin' syne i' the beuk o'
the Proverbs. Eh! it's an awfu' thing to be foreordeent to
oonrichteousness!"
"But you haven't told me what is the matter at Scaurnose," said Malcolm
impatiently.
"Ow, it's jist this--'at this same's Midsimmer Day, an' Blue
Peter--honest fallow!--he's been for the last three month un'er nottice
frae the factor to quit. An' sae, ye see--"
"To quit!" exclaimed Malcolm. "Sic a thing was never h'ard tell o'."
"Haith! it's h'ard tell o' noo," returned the gate-keeper. "Quittin' 's
as plenty as quicken (_couch-grass_). 'Deed, there's maist naething
ither h'ard tell o' _bit_ quittin', for the full half o' Scaurnose is
un'er like nottice for Michaelmas, an' the Lord kens what it 'll a' en'
in!"
"But what's it for? Blue Peter's no the man to misbehave himsel'."
"Weel, ye ken mair yersel' nor ony ither as to the warst fau't there is
to lay till 's chairge; for they say--that is, _some_ say--it's a' yer
ain wyte, Ma'colm."
"What mean ye, man? Speyk oot," said Malcolm.
"They say it's a' anent the abduckin' o' the markis's boat, 'at you an'
him gaed aff wi' thegither."
"That'll hardly haud, seein' the marchioness hersel' cam' hame in her
the last nicht."
"Ay, but ye see the decree's gane oot, and what the factor says is like
the laws o' the Medes an' Persians, 'at they say's no to be altert: I
kenna mysel'."
"Ow weel, gien that be a', I'll see efter that wi' the marchioness."
"Ay, but ye see there's a lot o' the laads there, as I'm tellt, 'at has
vooed 'at factor nor factor's man sall never set fut in Scaurnose frae
this day furth. Gang ye doon to the Seaton, an' see hoo mony o' yer auld
freen's ye'll fin' there. Man, there a' oot to Scaurnose to see the
plisky. The factor he's there, I ken--and some constables wi' 'im--to
see 'at his order's cairried oot. An' the laads they hae been
fortifeein' the place, as they ca' 't, for the last ook. They've howkit
a trenk, they tell me, 'at nane but a hunter on 's horse cud win ower,
an' they're postit alang the toon-side o' 't wi' sticks an' stanes an
boat-heuks, an' guns an' pistils. An' gien there bena a man or twa killt
a'ready--"
Before he finished his sentence Kelpie was leveling herself along the
road for the sea-gate.
Johnny Bykes was locking it on the other side, in haste to secure his
eye-share of what was going on, when he caught sight of Malcolm tearing
up. Mindful of the old grudge, also that there was no marquis now to
favor his foe, he finished the arrested act of turning the key, drew it
from the lock, and to Malcolm's orders, threats and appeals returned for
all answer that he had no time to attend to _him_, and so left him
looking through the bars. Malcolm dashed across the burn, and round the
base of the hill on which stood the little wind-god blowing his horn,
dismounted, unlocked the door in the wall, got Kelpie through, and was
in the saddle again before Johnny was halfway from the gate. When the
churl saw him he trembled, turned and ran for its shelter again in
terror, nor perceived until he reached it that the insulted groom had
gone off like the wind in the opposite direction.
Malcolm soon left the high-road and cut across the fields, over which
the wind bore cries and shouts, mingled with laughter and the animal
sounds of coarse jeering. When he came nigh the cart-road which led into
the village he saw at the entrance of the street a crowd, and rising
from it the well-known shape of the factor on his horse. Nearer the sea,
where was another entrance through the back yards of some cottages, was
a smaller crowd. Both were now pretty silent, for the attention of all
was fixed on Malcolm's approach. As he drew up Kelpie foaming and
prancing, and the group made way for her, he saw a deep wide ditch
across the road, on whose opposite side was ranged irregularly the
flower of Scaurnose's younger manhood, calmly, even merrily, prepared to
defend their entrenchment. They had been chaffing the factor, and loudly
challenging the constables to come on, when they recognized Malcolm in
the distance, and expectancy stayed the rush of their bruising wit. For
they regarded him as beyond a doubt come from the marchioness with
messages of good-will. When he rode up, therefore, they raised a great
shout, every one welcoming him by name. But the factor--who, to judge by
appearances, had had his forenoon dram ere he left home--burning with
wrath, moved his horse in between Malcolm and the ditch. He had
self-command enough left, however, to make one attempt at the loftily
superior. "Pray what is your business?" he said, as if he had never seen
Malcolm in his life before. "I presume you come with a message."
"I come to beg you, sir, not to go farther with this business. Surely
the punishment is already enough," said Malcolm respectfully.
"Who sends me the message?" asked the factor, his lips pressed together
and his eyes flaming.
"One," answered Malcolm, "who has some influence for justice, and will
use it upon whichever side the justice may lie."
"Go to hell!" cried the factor, losing utterly his slender self-command
and raising his whip.
Malcolm took no heed of the gesture, for he was at the moment beyond his
reach. "Mr. Crathie," he said calmly, "you are banishing the best man in
the place."
"No doubt! no doubt! seeing he's a crony of yours," laughed the factor
in mighty scorn.--"A canting, prayer-meeting rascal!" he added.
"Is that ony waur nor a drucken elyer o' the kirk?" cried Dubs from the
other side of the ditch, raising a roar of laughter.
The very purple left the factor's face and turned to a corpse-like gray
in the fire of his fury.
"Come, come, my men! that's going too far," said Malcolm.
"An' wha ir ye for a fudgie (_truant_) fisher, to gie coonsel ohn
speired?" shouted Dubs, altogether disappointed in the part Malcolm
seemed only able to take. "Haud to the factor there wi' yer coonsel!"
"Get out of my way!" said Mr. Crathie through his set teeth, and came
straight upon Malcolm. "Home with you, or-r-r-r--" And again he raised
his whip, this time plainly with intent.
"For God's sake, factor, min' the mere!" cried Malcolm. "Ribs an' legs
an' a' 'ill be to crack gien ye anger her wi' yer whuppin'!" As he spoke
he drew a little aside, that the factor might pass if he pleased. A
noise arose in the smaller crowd, and Malcolm turned to see what it
meant: off his guard, he received a stinging cut over the head from the
factor's whip. Simultaneously, Kelpie stood up on end, and Malcolm tore
the weapon from the treacherous hand. "If I gave you what you deserve,
Mr. Crathie, I should knock you and your horse together into that ditch.
A touch of the spur would do it. I am not quite sure that I ought not.
A nature like yours takes forbearance for fear." While he spoke, his
mare was ramping and kicking, making a clean sweep all about her. Mr.
Crathie's horse turned restive from sympathy, and it was all his rider
could do to keep his seat. As soon as he got Kelpie a little quieter,
Malcolm drew near and returned him his whip. He snatched it from his
outstretched hand and essayed a second cut at him, which Malcolm
rendered powerless by pushing Kelpie close up to him. Then suddenly
wheeling, he left him.
On the other side of the trench the fellows were shouting and roaring
with laughter.
"Men!" cried Malcolm, "you have no right to stop up this road. I want to
go and see Blue Peter."
"Come on, than!" cried one of the young men, emulous of Dubs's humor,
and spread out his arms as if to receive Kelpie to his bosom.
"Stand out of the way: I'm coming," said Malcolm. As he spoke he took
Kelpie a little round, keeping out of the way of the factor, who sat
trembling with rage on his still excited animal, and sent her at the
trench. The Deevil's Jock, as they called him, kept jumping, with his
arms outspread, from one place to another, as if to receive Kelpie's
charge; but when he saw her actually coming, in short, quick bounds,
straight to the trench, he was seized with terror, and, half paralyzed,
slipped as he turned to flee and rolled into the ditch, just in time to
see Kelpie fly over his head. His comrades scampered right and left, and
Malcolm, rather disgusted, took no notice of them.
A cart, loaded with their little all, the horse in the shafts, was
standing at Peter's door, but nobody was near it. Hardly had Malcolm
entered the close, however, when out rushed Annie, and heedless of
Kelpie's demonstrative repellence, reached up her hands like a child,
caught him by the arm while yet he was busied with his troublesome
charge, drew him down toward her and held him till, in spite of Kelpie,
she had kissed him again and again. "Eh, Ma'colm! eh, my lord!" she
said, "ye hae saved my faith. I kenned ye wad come."
"Haud yer tongue, Annie: I maunna be kenned," said Malcolm.
"There's nae danger. They'll tak it for sweirin'," said Annie, laughing
and crying both at once.
But next came Blue Peter, his youngest child in his arms.
"Eh, Peter, man! I'm bleythe to see ye," cried Malcolm. "Gie 's a grup
o' yer honest han'."
More than even the sight of his face, beaming with pleasure, more than
that grasp of the hand that would have squeezed the life out of a
polecat, was the sound of the mother-tongue from his lips. The cloud of
Peter's long distrust broke and vanished, and the sky of his soul was
straightway a celestial blue. He snatched his hand from Malcolm's,
walked back into the empty house, ran into the little closet off the
kitchen, bolted the door, fell on his knees in the void little sanctuary
that had of late been the scene of so many foiled attempts to lift up
his heart, and poured out speechless thanksgiving to the God of all
grace and consolation, who had given him back his friend, and that in
the time of his sore need. So true was his heart in its love that,
giving thanks for his friend, he forgot he was the marquis of Lossie,
before whom his enemy was but as a snail in the sun. When he rose from
his knees and went out again, his face shining and his eyes misty, his
wife was on the top of the cart, tying a rope across the cradle.
"Peter," said Malcolm, "ye was quite richt to gang, but I'm glaid they
didna lat ye."
"I wad hae been halfw'y to Port Gordon or noo," said Peter.
"But noo ye'll no gang to Port Gordon," said Malcolm. "Ye'll jist gang
to the Salmon for a feow days till we see hoo things'll gang."
"I'll du onything ye like, Ma'colm," said Peter, and went into the house
to fetch his bonnet.
In the street arose the cry of a woman, and into the close rushed one of
the fisher-wives, followed by the factor. He had found a place on the
eastern side of the village, whither he had slipped unobserved, where,
jumping a low earth-wall, he got into a little back yard. He was
trampling over its few stocks of kail and its one dusty miller and
double daisy when the woman to whose cottage it belonged caught sight of
him through her window, and running out fell to abusing him, doubtless
in no measured language. He rode at her in his rage, and she fled
shrieking into Peter's close and behind the cart, never ceasing her
vituperation, but calling him every choice name in her vocabulary.
Beside himself with the rage of murdered dignity, he struck at her over
the corner of the cart. Thereupon from the top of it Annie Mair ventured
to expostulate: "Hoot, sir! It's no mainners to lat at a wuman like
that."
He turned upon her, and gave her a cut on the arm and hand so stinging
that she cried out, and nearly fell from the cart. Out rushed Peter and
flew at the factor, who from his seat of vantage began to ply his whip
about his head. But Malcolm, who, when the factor appeared, had moved
aside to keep Kelpie out of mischief, and saw only the second of the two
assaults, came forward with a scramble and a bound. "Haud awa', Peter!"
he cried: "this belangs to me. I gae 'im back 's whup, an' sae I'm
accoontable.--Mr. Crathie"--and as he spoke he edged his mare up to the
panting factor--"the man who strikes a woman must be taught that he is a
scoundrel, and that office I take. I would do the same if you were the
lord of Lossie instead of his factor."
Mr. Crathie, knowing himself now in the wrong, was a little frightened
at the set speech, and began to bluster and stammer, but the swift
descent of Malcolm's heavy riding-whip on his shoulders and back made
him voluble in curses. Then began a battle that could not last long with
such odds on the side of justice. It was gazed at from the mouth of the
close by many spectators, but none dared enter because of the capering
and plunging and kicking of the horses. In less than a minute the
factor turned to flee, and spurring out of the court galloped up the
street at full stretch.
"Haud oot o' the gait!" cried Malcolm, and rode after him. But more
careful of the people, he did not get a good start, and the factor was
over the trench and into the fields before he caught him up. Then again
the stinging switch buckled about the shoulders of the oppressor with
all the force of Malcolm's brawny arm. The factor yelled and cursed and
swore, and still Malcolm plied the whip, and still the horses flew over
fields and fences and ditches. At length in the last field, from which
they must turn into the high-road, the factor groaned out, "For God's
sake, Ma'colm, hae mercy!"
The youth's uplifted arm fell by his side. He turned his mare's head,
and when the factor ventured to turn his, he saw the avenger already
halfway back to Scaurnose, and the constables in full flight meeting
him.
While Malcolm was thus occupied his sister was writing to Lady Bellair.
She told her that, having gone out for a sail in her yacht, which she
had sent for from Scotland, the desire to see her home had overpowered
her to such a degree that of the intended sail she had made a voyage,
and here she was, longing just as much now to see Lady Bellair; and if
she thought proper to bring a gentleman with her to take care of her, he
also should be welcome for her sake. It was a long way for her to come,
she said, and Lady Bellair knew what sort of a place it was, but there
was nobody in London now, and if she had nothing more enticing on her
tablets, etc., etc. She ended with begging her, if she was inclined to
make her happy with her presence, to bring to her Caley and her hound
Demon. She had hardly finished when Malcolm presented himself. She
received him very coldly, and declined to listen to anything about the
fishers. She insisted that, being one of their party, he was prejudiced
in their favor, and that of course a man of Mr. Crathie's experience
must know better than he what ought to be done with such people in view
of protecting her rights and keeping them in order. She declared that
she was not going to disturb the old way of things to please him, and
said that he had now done her all the mischief he could, except indeed
he were to head the fishers and sack Lossie House. Malcolm found that
instead of gaining any advantage by making himself known to her as her
brother, he had but given her confidence in speaking her mind to him,
and set her free from considerations of personal dignity when she
desired to humiliate him. But he was a good deal surprised at the
ability with which she set forth and defended her own view of her
affairs, for she did not tell him that the Rev. Mr. Cairns had been with
her all the morning, flattering her vanity, worshiping her power and
generally instructing her in her own greatness--also putting in a word
or two anent his friend Mr. Crathie, and his troubles with her
ladyship's fisher-tenants. She was still, however, so far afraid of her
brother--which state of feeling was perhaps the main cause of her
insulting behavior to him--that she sat in some dread lest he might
chance to see the address of the letter she had been writing.
I may mention here that Lady Bellair accepted the invitation with
pleasure for herself and Liftore, promised to bring Caley, but utterly
declined to take charge of Demon or allow him to be of the party.
Thereupon, Florimel, who was fond of the animal, and feared much, as he
was no favorite, that something would _happen_ to him, wrote to
Clementina, praying her to visit her in her lovely loneliness--good as
The Gloom in its way, though not quite so dark--and to add a hair to the
weight of her obligation if she complied by allowing her deerhound to
accompany her. Clementina was the only one, she said, of her friends for
whom the animal had ever shown a preference.
Malcolm retired from his sister's presence much depressed, saw Mrs.
Courthope, who was kind as ever, and betook himself to his old room,
next to that in which his strange history began. There he sat down and
wrote urgently to Lenorme, stating that he had an important
communication to make, and begging him to start for the North the
moment he received the letter. A messenger from Duff Harbor well mounted
would ensure Malcolm's presence within a couple of hours.
He found the behavior of his old acquaintances and friends in the Seaton
much what he had expected: the few were as cordial as ever, while the
many still resented, with a mingling of the jealousy of affection, his
forsaking of the old life for one they regarded as unworthy of a bred at
least, if not born, fisherman. A few there were still who always had
been, for reasons known only to themselves, less than friendly. The
women were all cordial.
"Sic a mad-like thing," said old Futtocks, who was now the leader of the
assembly at the Barn, "to gang scoorin' the cuintry on that mad brute o'
a mere! What guid, think ye, can come o' sic-like?"
"H'ard ye 'im ever tell the story aboot Colonsay Castel yon'er?"
"Ay, hev I."
"Weel, isna his mere 'at they ca' Kelpie jest the pictur' o' the deil's
ain horse 'at lay at the door an' watched whan he flaw oot, an' tuik the
wa' wi' 'im?"
"I cudna say till I saw whether the deil himsel' cud gar her lie still."