me, and they will the better enable me to bear my discomfiture."
"Donald, you must now act as a man of the world. That there is something
radically wrong, I am persuaded; for I cannot conceive how a man should
wilfully refrain claiming his inheritance for so long a time."
"His capture and sale as a slave may explain this."
"Fiddle-de-dee! this is affirming what is not proved. It is easy enough
to circulate such a report; but what does Solomon Slow say to all this,
and his worthy partner, Simon Sure?"
"Nothing satisfactory. They merely hum and ha--ask questions, but give
no answers. They have sent for the charter-chest from Dungyle, and I
expect it here to-day."
The legal proceedings went on with vigour; the reduction was called in
court; taken to see, as it is termed; returned and enrolled; and order
taken for producing the writings called for. All this was Hebrew to the
defender; but he trusted everything to his agents. They, on the other
hand, raised a counter-reduction of the service of the claimant, on the
ground that the evidence was insufficient. This step was bold, but
judicious; for Messrs Sharpe &, Swift began to think, that although the
expense of these double proceedings might not be much to a party in
possession, it was very different when they had to advance the necessary
outlay, as they had taken up the cause on speculation. It was hinted
that a _douceur_, properly applied, might settle the contest; but Donald
peremptorily refused any such compromise, by remarking that--
"If I have justice on my side, why pay this man for troubling me? and,
if he has justice on his side, it shall never be said that I took
advantage of his poverty to compel him into a relinquishment of his just
rights. If, upon proper examination, I find that he is the lawful owner
of these estates, I will surrender them."
The charter-chest arrived safely, was deposited in the office of Messrs
Slow & Sure, and opened in the presence of the young laird. The more
recent titles--those called for in the summons--lay on the top. Mr Sure
then took up one parcel, and next another.
"Ha! hum!" muttered he, taking off his spectacles, carefully rubbing his
glasses with his handkerchief, and then replacing them.--"Marriage
contract: so there was a marriage contract? Ha! 'Gives, grants, and
dispones'--what--'to Annette Campbell, for her liferent use allenarly,
and to her issue male by her marriage with Roderick Campbell, or by any
other marriage, lawfully begotten, in fee, all and whole the lands and
barony of Dungyle.' This is wonderful! This extinguishes any claim to
Dungyle. The lands are validly conveyed. So, if this man is what he
calls himself, which I doubt, the game is up with him as to Dungyle. I
wish Inshannock was equally safe. So it is," lifting another parcel.
"'Disposition and assignation, by D. Campbell, Esq., to Roderick
Campbell, Esq., in trust for William Grahame; and, failing the said
William, to the trustee and his heirs.' But what is this?" And he lifted
a parcel carefully sealed, and addressed to Donald.
On opening the mysterious packet, a paper was discovered, in the
handwriting of his father, detailing the facts previously narrated, with
a postscript, from which it appeared that, after the death of old
Dungyle, his reputed son, having learned that the real son had been
alive at least a year previously, proceeded to France, and there
ascertained that the true Roderick, upon learning his father's death,
had left Paris, had been taken ill on the road, and died. Fortunately,
the priest who gave him absolution (for he was a Catholic) was traced;
and there was found, wafered to the paper, a certificate of burial under
the hands of the proper officials--thus proving to demonstration that
the present claimant was an impostor.
In face of such evidence, it was plain that even the skill of Messrs
Sharpe & Swift could avail little; and the pretended Dungyle having
found it convenient to be off, and "leave no wreck behind," these
reputable writers to the signet, or, as the High School boys term them,
wicked sinners, made something like a total loss by their speculation.
Who the impostor was never transpired; but it was shrewdly suspected
that he was an individual to whom the deceased heir of Dungyle had lost
various sums of money, besides some family trinkets, in play; and this
suspicion was confirmed by the very articles having been brought forward
in support of the identity.
We have only to add, that Donald was made happy in the hand of Emma; and
of this marriage are sprung the Barons of Inshannock and the Earls of
Dungyle.
THE MOSSTROOPER.
"I am determined to gie up this thievin trade, Dick. If I can only
escape Sir Robert Cary this time, I'll turn honest man, hing up jack and
spear, steel-cap and whinger, and lead the life o' a saint." This was
said by Geordie Bourne--one of the most noted freebooters on the
Borders, who flourished, in wickedness, about the end of the seventeenth
century--and was addressed to one of his associates in crime. But how
think you, good reader, was Geordie employed when he expressed this
laudable resolution of abandoning his evil ways? Why, in driving before
him a score of cattle which he had just harried in Northumberland. "If
he could escape Sir Robert Cary!" Ay, but there was the rub. There was
scarcely any escaping Sir Robert Cary, who was warden of the East March,
on the English side--a generous-minded and high-spirited man, but the
especial terror of all those gentlemen who practised the art of living
at the expense of their neighbours. As warden of a march, this was his
duty; and he performed it with a zeal and activity that threatened to
ruin the trade altogether. His men were constantly abroad, on the
look-out for visiters from the Scottish side, and those who were brought
to him were hanged without mercy; and this would have been Geordie's
fate long preceding the period of our story, had he not been an especial
favourite with Sir Robert Kerr, the opposite warden, for whom Sir Robert
Cary entertained a high respect.
At this period, the latter person lived in the Castle of Witherington,
in Northumberland, and it was thither that all the Scottish freebooters
were carried who were taken--and it was there that they suffered the
penalty of their crimes. The residence of a warden was then, in every
sense of the word, a garrison. It was filled with soldiers, both horse
and foot, but chiefly the former. These were called the warden's men,
and were dressed in a peculiar livery, to denote the service to which
they belonged. They were placed under his command, to enable him to keep
the peace of the district over which he presided, to repel aggressions,
and to apprehend and bring to justice the lawless marauders with which
the Borders were then infested. His men, as has been already said, were
constantly employed in patrolling the country, and looking out for
defaulters; so that the profession of the freebooter was one of great
peril, for he had not only to brave the weapons of those whom he
spoiled, but the halter of justice, which was always dangling over his
head.
To return, however, to Geordie Bourne. In the little we have yet said of
this gallant, we have by no means done full justice to his merits.
Geordie was not simply a noted character in the times in which he lived,
but an extraordinary one. The feats he had performed were the talk and
the marvel of the Borders; and certainly, if all was true that was said
of him--nay, if the half of it was true (and there is little doubt that
fully that proportion at least was so)--he was one of the most daring
and desperate ruffians that ever lived. He was, moreover, a man of great
personal strength, of large stature, and ferocious courage. Altogether,
he stood preeminent, even in those wild and lawless times, for
everything that was evil in, and peculiar to, the Border character. But,
from what Geordie said on the occasion with which our story opens, it
would appear that he had determined to reform. Whether Geordie was in
earnest when he announced this resolution, and whether, if he was, it
arose from compunctions of conscience, or from the terror of Sir Robert
Cary's halter, it would not be easy to say. That he was serious,
however, was a thing very much doubted by his friend and associate,
Dick Johnston, or Long Dick, as he was more picturesquely styled, who
received his communication, on the delicate subject in question, with a
very hearty and a very unequivocal burst of laughter.
"You turn saint, Geordie!--you gie up thievin!" exclaimed Dick, so soon
as his mirth would permit him to speak, "ay, when the Solway sands grow
into green fields, and Annan Water is turned into wine--then ye'll gie
up the trade, Geordie, but no till then."
"I'll no delay sae lang, though, Dick; and, laugh as ye like, that ye'll
see," replied Geordie. "I'm tired o' this wark, and I'm beginnin to
think that I hae fully as much mischief scored against me already as
I'll be weel able to answer for." Then suddenly directing his attention
to the cattle they were driving before them, and that with an interest
which showed pretty plainly that _their_ destiny, at any rate, was to be
in no way affected by his proposed reformation, "Hey, Jock," he
exclaimed, "look after that brown cow, man. Do ye think folk get their
guids for naething? She's gaun aff the road athegither. Confound the
beast!--keep her till't, Jock, keep her till't, lad, till we see what
kind o' kail she maks. We'll be the greens, and I'm sure she needna
grudge to be the beef."
With this witticism, such as it is, the conversation terminated for a
time, and the freebooters pursued their way in silence.
Remarking that they had not yet cleared the County of Northumberland, we
change the scene for a moment to Witherington Castle, the residence of
the warden of the East March, Sir Robert Cary, who, at the moment when
we would introduce him to the reader, was engaged in writing despatches
to his mistress, Queen Elizabeth, in which he was giving an account of
the then present state of the country, and of his own proceedings for
the previous month.
While thus employed, a person dressed in the warden's livery, entered
the apartment, cap in hand, and advanced to a respectful distance from
the warden, where he stood still, and gave two or three gentle hems, to
make the latter aware of his presence. He succeeded. Sir Robert raised
his head, and, looking at the intruder, "Well, Watt," he said, "what's
stirring now? Any interlopers across the March?"
"Why, my lord," replied the person interrogated, "I have just been
informed that Geordie Bourne, with half-a-dozen Scottish thieves, has
been seen on the tramp, and, if my intelligence be correct, is at this
moment driving before him a score of Sir Thomas Carlton's best beeves."
"Ah! Geordie Bourne!" exclaimed Sir Robert, evidently excited by the
intelligence, "that fellow would be worth catching indeed. He's one of
the most desperate thieves in Christendom; but a valiant rascal withal,
and, as I'm told, a very pretty fellow to boot. To horse, then, Watt, my
man," added the warden, "and see if you cannot fall in with him. If he
is not killed, you will, of course, bring him to Witherington; and I had
rather you should not kill him, if you can help it."
"How many men shall I take, my lord?" inquired this subaltern officer of
the warden's; for such he was.
"Why, how many men has Bourne with him?" rejoined Sir Robert.
"Six, my lord, I'm told," replied Watt.
"Then take a dozen with you, Watt, and see they be well armed; for these
fellows don't part with their prey very readily, and there may be blows
going, especially with such a desperado as Geordie Bourne."
Watt bowed, and left the apartment, and Sir Robert Cary resumed his
writing. In ten minutes afterwards, thirteen well-mounted and well-armed
troopers were seen issuing from the gate of Witherington Castle, and
proceeding in the direction of the Scottish Border.
For some time the party proceeded on their way in silence, without
exchanging a word--nothing being heard amongst them but the jingling of
their harness, and an occasional imprecation on their horses; but this
silence was at length thus broken:--
"There will be some knocks going, Jack, if we fall in with this fellow,
Bourne," said Watt Tomlins, to the man who rode next him. "Geordie hits
hard, and I'm told is one of the best shots in these parts; but we can
strike a fair blow, too, Jack, and handle a bow not amiss either; so I
think we haven't much to fear from him, after all."
"Why, no, not a bit, Watt," replied Jack, a stout, burly Northumbrian.
"We're two to one at any rate, and that's some comfort--that is, Watt,"
he added, "if you have been rightly informed of the number Bourne has
with him. If there's an error there against us, however, it will be
rather an awkward business, I doubt."
The reader will at once perceive that, notwithstanding the bravery of
this talk, there was fear at the bottom of it. In truth, the warden's
men, especially the two who just now spoke, would rather have had to do
with half the thieves on the Borders, than with Geordie Bourne alone, of
whose courage and prowess they had heard the most tremendous stories.
They therefore went on the present errand with no very comfortable
feelings; and there is little doubt that, had it not been for the fear
of exposure, and the loss of their situations, they would have reported
at the castle that Geordie was not anywhere to be seen. But there were
others of the party composed of better fighting materials than Watt
Tomlins and Jack Foster; and these, though they entertained all due
respect for Geordie's strength and valour, were men who would not flinch
from their duty from fear of any one. Of some of these, indeed, it was
alleged that they had done a little business in Geordie's way
themselves, before they entered the service of the warden; so that, in
employing them, the latter had acted on the well-known principle, set a
thief to catch a thief; and certainly those of this description who were
in his service were by far the most expert in detecting and apprehending
depredators.
The party had now ridden for several hours without discovering any trace
of the object of their pursuit; and, as it was getting dark, they had
begun to lose all hopes of success, and to think of returning home. Ah,
Geordie, Geordie, lad! you are now rubbing shoulders with a certain
apparatus which shall be nameless. It is touch and go with you, Geordie.
If the warden's company return at this moment, you are safe. If they go
on but another hundred yards, for it is only a turn in the road that
conceals you from them, it is all up with you. Your fate is trembling in
the balance, and a breath will turn the beam.
The warden's men had now called a halt, to consider the momentous
question just alluded to--that is, whether they should proceed or
return: when it was decided, _nem. con._, that they should put about,
and live in the hope of catching Geordie on some future day; and on this
resolution they were about to act, when one of the troop, suddenly
struck with a second thought, proposed that they should proceed
precisely the length of that very turn in the road on which Geordie's
fate depended, ere they abandoned the chase. As the distance was but
trifling, this was readily agreed to; and forward again the whole party
rode. On arriving at the stipulated point, they once more drew bridle,
suspended all conversation, and, in profound silence, listened
attentively to ascertain if there was anything suspicious moving at a
distance. While some were thus employed, others were endeavouring to
peer through the gloom of the twilight, with a similar view.
"Nothing to be heard or seen, Will--nothing moving," said Tomlins to a
stout ferocious-looking Northumbrian Borderer who rode next to him.
"Geordie has escaped us this bout."
"Not so fast, Watt; not so fast," replied the person addressed, who was
leaning over his horse's neck, and intently scanning the dusky road that
stretched away before them in the distance--"I see something moving
yonder that looks very like a drove of cattle; and hark! Watt," he
added, "there's a shout! On my life, here is Geordie, after all,
comrades." This was said in a loud whisper, and the whole party looked
intently, and without exchanging a word, in the direction indicated,
when all agreed that there was something to be seen, of which it would
be proper to have a nearer view; and, under this conviction, the troop
again set forward at a hard trot, which, in a few seconds, brought them
up with the object of their suspicions. These suspicions were well
founded. It was indeed Geordie Bourne, his associates, and their booty.
On coming up with the freebooters, the warden's men rushed in upon them,
when Geordie himself, ere he was aware of his danger, or could prepare
for his defence, was felled to the earth by Will Armstrong; and in the
next instant his hands were firmly bound behind his back with cords. The
superiority of numbers with which he was attacked left Geordie, powerful
and courageous as he was, without a shadow of a chance from resistance.
This he perceived, and therefore made no attempt to return the violence
with which he was assailed. On regaining his feet, however, being yet
ignorant who they were who had thus so suddenly set upon him, he
inquired, in a tone and manner which implied a threat of fierce
retribution, "Who here dares--who among ye dares to avow this night's
work? Let me hear him speak."
"I dare," replied Will Armstrong--"I dare avow it, Geordie Bourne, and
perhaps so will Sir Robert Cary."
"Ha! you're warden's men, then," said the freebooter, alarmed at the
discovery that he was in the hands of the dreaded enemy of his
profession, and becoming instantly more calm and subdued in his manner.
"Weel, there's nae help for't, lads--every dog has his day. I hae had
mine, and I suppose I maun now straught a tow at Witherington. Deil may
care," he added, after a moment's pause--"it's no sax yards o' cord,
even though there should be a loop at the end o't, that's gaun to
frighten Geordie Bourne." Then instantly recovering all the natural
intrepidity of his character, he began to shout out, even while his
captors were in the act of still further securing his arms by additional
ligatures--
"And it's hey, my lads, for the bonny moonlight,
That on mountain and muirland is streamin sae bright,
Gae saddle my steed, for I maun ride the night
As far as the English border.
"'Tak tent, Jock, lad, for the warden's men
Are ridin o'er hill and ridin through glen.'
Tuts, sax Scots lads 'll keep twascore-and-ten
O' sic feckless loons in order."
And Geordie would have gone on with the complimentary stanzas, of which
the first and second have been quoted, had he not been interrupted by a
peremptory command to move on. The troop had now formed round the
captive, who, besides having his arms bound, as already described, was
secured to two horsemen, one on each side of him; and in this order the
whole party marched on towards Witherington, where they arrived a little
before the hour of supper, when Geordie was immediately conveyed to the
strong room appropriated for the reception of such involuntary visiters.
Having thus secured his prisoner, Watt Tomlins repaired to Sir Robert
Cary, and informed him that Geordie Bourne was taken, and in custody.
"Ha! so you have caught him at last, Watt! I am glad of it," said the
warden. "Did he make any resistance?"
"None, my lord," replied Tomlins. "We were too many for him. We took him
as gently as a lamb, merely by knocking him down."
"Very gentle proceeding, indeed, Tomlins. It's so far well,
however--glad there's no one hurt. What like a fellow is he, this
Bourne, Watt? I have heard much of the knave's valour and strength, and
should like to see him. He would be an acquisition, the rogue, to my
troop, if he could be prevailed upon to take to such an honest calling.
Why, I would spare the rascal's life if he would, for I cannot help
respecting his bravery, and am loth to put him to death, both on that
account and on account of my friend, Sir Robert Kerr, who has a kindness
for the knave."
"Why, my lord, as to his appearance," said Tomlins, "he is, I must say,
as pretty a fellow as ever put foot in stirrup--six feet, every inch, my
lord--and a chest like a horse's; but I fear we couldn't depend on him."
"I doubt that myself, Tomlins," said the warden; "however, I'll think of
the matter; but I am unwilling to hang the rogue, if any good at all
could be found in him. I'll think of it, however, Tomlins--I'll think of
it," repeated Sir Robert; at the same time nodding his head in a manner
expressive of his wish to be left alone.
Tomlins, taking the hint, bowed, and retired.
Soon after the supper-hour of the garrison, and when all was quiet
within the castle, the door of the strong room in which Geordie Bourne
was confined was cautiously opened, and three persons, dressed in the
livery of warden's men, entered the apartment. Geordie's athletic figure
was extended at full length upon a bench, when the intruders first made
their appearance; but he started up on their entrance, and presented
such an appalling personification of strength and ferocity, as startled
for a moment those who had thus voluntarily obtruded themselves on his
seclusion; and, secure as they were--for they were well armed, while he
was totally defenceless--they could not contemplate his thick muscular
throat, which was bare--thus giving full effect to the fierce but bold
and manly countenance of the outlaw--without misgivings as to their
safety with such a powerful and desperate man.
Suppressing this fear, however, which, indeed, was wholly unnecessary,
as the prisoner neither entertained, nor even conceived for a moment,
any intention of doing them an injury--
"Geordie," said the foremost of the visiters, "we have stolen a march on
your keepers, just to condole with you a little on your unhappy
mischance. We are really sorry to see a brave man like you, Geordie, in
this melancholy condition, and we have come to express this to you, and
to beg of you to believe that we would help ye out of your strait, if we
could."
"Thank ye, friends, thank ye," replied the captive; "but it's a' owre
now wi' Geordie Bourne. It's a' luck, lads, a' luck; and the chance has
gane against me--that's a'. Never mind: I hae dune pretty fair wark on
the English side in my day, and that's some comfort. There's twa or
three there, I'm thinkin, that'll no be inconsolable for my fate, nor be
at ony loss whether to laugh or to cry when they hear o' my end."
"Ay, Geordie," said one of his visiters, "you have been a pretty wild
gallant in your day, as we have heard. Tom," continued the speaker, now
turning round to and addressing one of his associates, "go to the
buttery, and get a jorum of double ale for our friend Bourne here. It
will comfort him a little, and lighten heavy thoughts a bit."
The order thus given was immediately obeyed, and in two or three minutes
the messenger returned with a large tankard of the beverage just named.
The vessel was handed to Geordie, who instantly applied it to his lips,
and took such a copious draught of its powerful contents as soon
produced a very sensible effect upon him. His eye began to glisten, and
his whole countenance to beam with a savage humour; and, as a natural
concomitant of these symptoms, he became extremely communicative. But
hold, Geordie, lad--hold, if ye value your life. Be cautious--ye know
not who is listening to you. Make no unnecessary disclosures of your
little peccadilloes. You long-tongued fool, what assurance have ye that
the lord-warden himself does not hear every word you are saying? You
know not who are your auditors--neither, apparently, do you care. On, on
ye go--little recking that you are but securing your own destruction.