hae been guilty, in sae far that I abandoned my quarters, and was awa
amang the hills; but I deny solemnly, and may I be haulden mansworn, if
ever I ettled to desert, or gae ower to the enemy's colours. I was
clean wud, and kenned na' at the time whar I was danderin' to. I tell
your honours the truth, and I would scorn to affirm it wi' an aith,
because I never tauld a lee in a' my days, and hae nae need to fib or
flaw noo. But, sirs, I think there isna ane in this room that wadna hae
dune as I did that nicht, when I kent that I was on the brink o' losing
for ever and ay the winsome lass to whom I had plighted heart and troth;
and I will affirm, gentlemen, that neither the danger or disgrace o'
haeing it imputed to me that I abandoned my standard, could keep me frae
trying to save her frae sic a tyrannical and avaricious auld carle as
her faither. It has been said, in the 'crime,' that I was gaun the gate
to the enemy's lines. Ablins I was, and ablins I wasna, for I was wading
through a sea o' desperation,--I was dumbfounded and gane gyte that
nicht, and it was a' after I had bent the bicker a gay gude while, as my
comrade Evan Iverach has tauld unto ye.
"O sirs! I hope that ye will neither flog nor degrade me; but let me
dee the death my crime is said to merit. Let me dee noo,--noo that I
hae broucht sorrow and wae, sorrow and disgrace to my honest faither's
fireside; for though he is but a puir auld cottar body at Braemar, it
will bring his bald head to the grave if he hears I hae come to the
halberts,[*]--it would be sic an awfu' disgrace! the haill kintra-side
wad ring wi't. Let me rather die, sirs: I say again,--a hundred times I
hae faced death, and I can easily face him ance mair. But it is whan I
think o' my faither and mother at hame amang the heather
hills,--struggling wi' eild and wi' poortith,--the ane herdin' sheep in
bonnie Glenclunaidh amang the lang yellow broom, and the ither spinnin'
hard at the ingle-neuk, whar I hae sae aften toddled at her knee,--'tis
whan I think o' them that I am ready to orp and greet, and that my stout
heart fails me,--a heart, sirs, that never failed on mony a bluidy day.
I hae nae mair to say, your honours, but just that I humbly thank ye for
hearing me sae lang, and that I wad as sune dee as live."
[*] The triangles: three pikes were used in those days.
This address, which was delivered with considerable vehemence and
gesture, and spoken in a very northern and provincial dialect, was very
little understood by those members of the court who were not Scotsmen;
and Ronald Stuart, whose heart yearned with a truly Scottish love
towards his countryman, explained to them the substance of what Mackie
had said. He was found guilty of the seventh and eleventh articles in
the second section of the articles of war; viz. desertion,--aggravated
by an intention to join the enemy, and drawing, or offering to draw,
upon "a superior officer." He was sent back to the fortress of Coria,
and the proceedings and sentence of the court were despatched to
head-quarters, with strong recommendations to mercy from Colonel
Cadogan, and from Fassifern: but many months elapsed before an answer
was returned, and during all that time the poor Highlander pined in the
noisome vaults of the castle or fort of Coria. But of him, more anon.
In consequence of the approach of the French under General Foy, the
first brigade moved from Coria while the sentence of the unfortunate
Mackie remained unknown,--every member of a court-martial being sworn to
solemn secrecy. The 50th regiment occupied Bejar, so famous for its
mineral wells, and some sharp fighting ensued in its neighbourhood; but
Foy's troops were completely routed with great loss. The Highlanders
occupied the beautiful village of Banos, which lies secluded in a deep
and narrow valley between Leon and Estremadura, surrounded on every side
by abrupt precipitous mountains, which are covered to their rugged
summits by the richest foliage; but amid their caverns, fastnesses, and
dingles lurk herds of wolves, the wildness and ferocity of which keep
the inhabitants in a continual state of terror and alarm; and so daring
had these savage animals become, that it was necessary to keep large
fires burning at night around the village, to scare them from the posts
of the sentinels.
Soon after the regiment arrived at Banos, the sentence of Angus Mackie
was ordered to be put in execution, having been approved of by the
proper authorities. On the retreat from Burgos some symptoms of
insubordination had appeared among the other brigades, when the soldiers
became maddened by the miseries they underwent; an officer of "the
buffs" had been shot by a soldier of that regiment. In other corps
discipline seemed almost set at nought, and it was determined that an
example should be made. The private of the 3rd regiment was hanged, and
Angus Mackie, who, although far less criminal, had been convicted of
desertion and insubordination, was sentenced to be shot to death in
presence of his comrades, who among themselves deeply pitied and
deplored that so gallant a lad should suffer so severe a sentence for
his exaggerated crime. No charge of injustice could be laid to the
account of the court which tried him, the "finding" of its members
having been regulated by the stern but necessary articles of the Mutiny
Act. Many months had passed away since his trial; the first excitement
of the affair had died away, and during all that time he had been
confined in the dreary fort of Coria,--a sufficient punishment alone for
the crime he had committed.
This unhappy affair cast a gloom over the whole regiment,--a gloom which
was apparent in every face, as the unwilling Highlanders paraded in the
valley of Banos to witness his execution.
It was in the month of May 1813; the evening was a still and beautiful
one. The sun was verging towards the west, and his crimson rays
streamed through the deep dark dell, upon the vine-clad cottages and
sylvan amphitheatre of Banos. Concentrated in that narrow and gloomy
glen, where the immense mountains rose on every side to the height of
many hundred feet, and where crags and rocks shot up in cones and
fantastic spires, almost excluding the light of day from the little huts
at the bottom of the dell, were the seventeen infantry regiments of the
second division, together with the cavalry, drawn up on the steep faces
of the hills, so that the rear ranks might overlook the front. The
paisanos of the secluded village, awe-struck at the unusual scene, and
the sight of so many thousand steel weapons glittering amid such dense
masses of foreign soldiers, forsook their cottages and clustered
together on the summit of a steep rock, to behold the fatal event. The
troops formed three faces of a hollow square; the rock upon which the
peasants were congregated occupied the vacant space. A spot of velvet
turf, the village-green, stretched to the foot of it, and there was dug
a grave,--a grave for the yet living man; the wet damp earth heaped up
on one side of it, the rolls of turf and a rough deal coffin lay on the
other. Near these stood the base-drum of the Gordon Highlanders; a
bible and a prayer-book lay open upon its head.
The Highlanders formed the inner faces of the square.
All was solemn silence and expectation; not a whisper was heard through
all that dense array; not a sound smote the ear save the rustle of the
summer foliage, as the evening wind stirred the tall chesnuts or rich
green cork-trees which nodded from the black precipices. The general,
the staff and field-officers were all on horseback, but remained
motionless. At last it was known that the doomed man was approaching,
and the arms of the escort that conducted him were seen flashing in the
sunlight, as they descended from the hill tops by the winding pathway
which led to the bottom of the valley. Sir Rowland Hill touched his hat
to an aide-de-camp, who then passed among the troops at a hand gallop,
whispering to each commanding-officer; the words of command to fix
bayonets and shoulder arms were immediately given, and before the
varying tones of the different colonels died away, the prisoner appeared
amid the square surrounded by his escort, under charge of the
provost-marshal. His own corps, I have said, was in front, and he moved
slowly along the silent ranks with downcast eyes towards the spot where
his grave and coffin lay displayed. He drew near the former, and cast a
glance into its gloomy depth and, shuddering, turned his back upon it,
muttering: "I would just be sax and twenty the morn. Sax and twenty!
oh, it's an unco thing to dee sae young. O my faither--my mither!" he
groaned aloud; "farewell to you--to auld Scotland, and a' I hae loed sae
lang and weel! It will be a sair trial to my kinsfolk in Glenclunaidh,
when they see my name on the kirk doors o' Braemar--as ane that has
dee'd wi' disgrace on his broo."[*]
[*] By the military regulations, the names of soldiers who behave
meritoriously, or misbehave themselves grossly, are affixed to the
church-doors of the parish in which they were born. In Highland
regiments the threat of informing friends at home of a soldier's
misconduct was sufficient to keep him in order for the time to come.
He was clad in his white undress-jacket and kilt, and stood bareheaded,
with his bonnet in his hand. He was pale and emaciated with long
confinement, but his bearing was firm and as soldier-like as ever. His
eyes seemed unusually bright, and at times a red flush crossed his
otherwise deadly pale cheek. There were two aged monks from the San
Ferdinando convent of Candeleria present, but the Highlander refused to
hear or communicate with them. Yet the honest friars were determined not
to abandon him in his last hour, and withdrawing to a little distance,
they placed a crucifix against a fragment of rock and prayed earnestly,
with true catholic fervour, to that all-wise Power above, before which
the soul of one they deemed a heretic was so soon to appear.
There was no chaplain present with the troops; but the prisoner was
attended by the venerable Dugald-Mhor, who walked slowly beside him
bare-headed, with his bonnet under his arm. He read portions of the
Scripture from an old dog-eared bible, which he produced from his
_sporran molloch_; and the low solemn tones in which he read could be
distinctly heard by all, so very still was the place; and as the hand of
the village-clock approached the hour at which the soldier was to die, a
deeper sadness fell upon the hearts of the beholders, who, although long
accustomed to all the heart-harrowing scenes of war, had never before
witnessed a death in so solemn and peculiar a manner.
Mackie and his attendant sung together the hymn--
"The hour of my departure's come," &c.
and when it was concluded, the hand of the clock on the alcalde's house
wanted but five minutes of the hour. The soldier cast a hasty glance
towards it, and, falling upon his knees, covered his face with his hands
and burst out into an agony of prayer, from which he was only aroused by
the seven strokes of the last hour he would ever hear on earth striking
from the dull-toned bell.
His last moment was come!
When the sound ceased, Cameron of Fassifern and his field-officers
dismounted from their horses, which were led away, and the
provost-marshal drew up a section of twelve soldiers opposite where the
prisoner yet knelt on the turf.
Many of his comrades now took their last farewell of him; and Evan
Iverach, to whom he had given seven pounds, saved from his pay while
prisoner at Coria, to send to his parents at Braemar, retired to his
place in the ranks with tearless eyes, because Evan had a mistaken idea,
that to have shown signs of deep emotion would have been unmanly. But
that night, in his billet, honest Evan wept like a woman for the loss of
his comrade and friend. During the bandaging of Mackie's eyes, Fassifern
took off his bonnet, and kneeling down, commanded his regiment to do so
likewise. As one man the Highlanders bent their bare knees to the sod,
joining, as they did so, in the solemn psalm which Dugald and the
prisoner had begun to sing. It was a sad and mournful Scottish air, one
which every Scotsman present had been accustomed to hear sung in their
village kirks or fathers' cottages in boyhood. It softened and subdued
their hearts, carrying back their recollections to their childhood, and
to years that had passed away into eternity. Many heard it chanted then
for the first time since their native hills had faded from their sight,
and as the strain died away through the deep and narrow vale of Banos,
it found an echo in every breast.
Dugald closed his bible, and, placing a handkerchief in the hand of the
prisoner, withdrew, and covering his wrinkled face with his bonnet,
knelt down also. Now came the duty of the provost-marshal, whose
unwilling detachment consisted of twelve picked men, of disorderly
character, on whom, as a punishment, fell the lot of slaying their
comrade.
With his eyes blindfolded, the unfortunate Highlander knelt down between
his coffin and his grave, and, without quivering once, dropped his
handkerchief.
"Section!" cried the provost-marshal, "'ready--present--_fire_!" The
words followed each other in rapid succession, and the echoes of the
death-shot were reverberated like thunder among the hills around. A
shriek burst from the females of the village. Red blood was seen to
spout forth from many a wound in the form of the prisoner; he sprung
convulsively upwards, and then fell backward dead on the damp gravel,
which was so soon to cover him.
The hearts of all began to beat more freely; but at that moment the red
sun sank behind the darkening hills, and a deeper gloom enveloped Banos,
the effect of which was not lost on the minds of the beholders.
All was over now! The corse lay stretched on the ground, and the smoke
of the musquetry was curling around the grave which yawned beside it.
Cameron sprung on his horse, and his voice was the first to break the
oppressive silence. The shrill pipes sounded, and the rattling drums
beat merrily in the re-echoing vale, as corps after corps marched past
the spot where the body of Mackie, though breathless, lay yet bleeding,
and moved up the winding pathway towards the pass of Banos, whence by
different routes they marched to their cantonments in the villages and
camps among the mountains. When all had passed away, the pioneers
placed the dead man in his coffin, and covered him hurriedly up; the
sods were carefully deposited over and beaten down with the shovel, and
the grave of the man who had been living but ten minutes before,
presented now the same appearance as the resting-place of one who had
been many years entombed. The weeds and the long grass waved over it.
The village _paisanos_ placed a rough wooden cross above it, to prevent,
as they said, "the heretic from haunting the resting-place of his
bones;" and near this rude emblem was placed a vine, which Evan Iverach
tended daily--clearing its root of weeds and encumbrances, watching and
pruning the stem, and long before the regiment left Banos he had twined
it around and hidden the limbs of the cross; and when the Highlanders
marched from the valley, as they wound through a deep defile among the
mountains Evan's farewell look was cast to the place where the
vine-covered cross marked the grave of his comrade.
*CHAPTER V.*
*AN ADVENTURE. A HIGHLAND LEGEND.*
"And such a phantom, too, 'tis said,
With Highland broad-sword, targe and plaid,
And fingers red with gore,
Is seen in Rothiemurchus glade."
_Marmion._
Before the regiment left Banos to take the field again, Ronald had an
unlooked-for adventure with a fierce denizen of the neighbouring
mountains, which nearly cost him his life.
There was a certain part of the hills, from which the valley of Banos
strongly resembled his native place, Strathonan, but on a much smaller
scale; and thither Stuart was in the habit of repairing almost daily, to
indulge freely in those long reveries so usual to a Highlander, and
enjoy the beauty of the prospect which bore so near a resemblance to his
home. A slight effort of the imagination made it at once Strathonan,
near the source of that celebrated trout-stream, the Isla; but the sound
of the guitar and castanets came on the wind instead of the war-pipe of
Albyn, and destroyed the illusion. There were neither bucks nor roes
bounding over the mountain-slope; and instead of the plaided shepherd or
agile huntsman starting from the copsewood, a lazy yet handsome Spanish
peasant appeared at times, sauntering slowly along, clad in his short
brown jacket tied round the waist by a broad yellow scarf, leather
gaiters bound with red thongs, a cigar in his mouth, a staff in his
hand, and a stiletto in his girdle. Often did a figure wearing this
romantic dress, or enveloped in a huge brown mantle, appear on the
solitary pathways of the hills. Far down below, on the village green,
instead of the lively strathspey or martial gilliechallium,[*] the
graceful fandango or bolero was danced by the athletic _paisanos_ and
olive-cheeked girls of the valley.
[*] Sword dance.
His patron had often warned him of the danger which he incurred, by
wandering so far among mountains so much infested by wolves; but Stuart
always considered himself safe enough, as he never went without his
sword and dirk. His host acquainted him with many wonderful tales of
men having been killed and devoured by them among the wild places; and
said that, within his recollection, nearly twenty children had been
carried off from the very heart of the village.
"Senor," said he, on one occasion, "you can know little of the nature of
the wolf, as perhaps there are none now in your country; but they have
the cunning of the fox, together with the strength and ferocity of the
tiger. On entering the village in the evening, he moves about with
careful and stealthy paces; and when he seizes on a child, grasps it by
the throat so as to prevent it giving a single cry, and bears it away to
the recesses among the hills. I have known of a lad of fourteen being
carried off thus. A man belonging to the village, a brave guerilla of
Mina's band, was attacked one evening in the pass of Banos by a band of
wolves. He slew three with his rifle and poniard, but the others tore
him to fragments. This brought the attention of senores the alcaldes of
the valley[*] to the matter, and they offered a reward of eighty reals,
or four duros, for each wolf's head brought to their houses, and
forthwith war was proclaimed against these fierce inhabitants of the
sierras.
[*] Banos is divided into two districts, each ruled by its own alcalde;
the northern part of the village lies in Leon, and the southern in
Estremadura.
"A dozen hides and heads were brought in weekly, and we continued this
dangerous sport until the British entered the valley, when firing in the
neighbourhood could no longer be continued. Since we acted upon the
offensive, the wolves have become more shy and never enter the vale, but
it is death to encounter the herds on their own ground; therefore I
would pray you, senor, if you value your own safety, never to wander
about as you are pleased to do."
Ronald thanked the worthy vine-dresser for his advice and good-wishes,
but laughed at his fears about the wolves, and told him that while he
was armed with his sword, he considered himself secure against any such
antagonists; and so continued to ramble about as usual.
One evening, while he was surveying the valley from his old post when
the sun was setting, he became overpowered with the heat of the
atmosphere and the fatigue of a long walk, and fell fast asleep beside a
rude wooden cross, erected to mark the spot where the only _abogado_ who
ever appeared in Banos had been poniarded by his first client for unfair
dealing. How long Stuart slept there he had no idea, but while dreaming
that he had that worthy clerk to the royal signet, Mr. Macquirk, among
the mountains of Banos, even close to the abogado's cross, and was about
to take summary vengeance upon him for the manner in which he had
bamboozled and swindled the old gentleman at Lochisla, he was awakened
in a very disagreeable manner by something grasping him roughly by the
throat. With the rapidity of light all the stories he had heard of the
wolves flashed upon his memory. He was fully awake in an instant, and
found himself grappling and struggling savagely with one of those
terrible animals, by moonlight, on a solitary hillside many miles away
from the village, where the watch-fires of the guard-houses could be
seen twinkling afar off at the bottom of the deep valley, like red
stars. His brass gorget and the massive lace, on the collar of the
coat, together with a stout military stock, had saved his neck from the
fangs of the gigantic wolf, which, by straining every energy of strength
and courage, or rather desperation, he grasped with a ferocity almost
equal to its own, and retaining his hold, threw upon the turf beside
him. Its struggles were terrible, and his hands, which encircled its
tough and brawny throat, were torn by its claws; yet he never relaxed
his iron clutch until the breath and strength of his antagonist began to
fail, and then putting his right hand to his side for his Highland dirk,
he remembered with rage and anguish that it was left behind at his
billet. The moment was indeed a critical one. Two other wolves were
approaching the spot cautiously, and Stuart, remembering how often he
had heard of their overpowering man by numbers, considered himself for
ever lost. It was like some horrible dream, and his heart became filled
with an agony of horror and alarm which it had never known before.
"Heaven help me now!" gasped he. "Ah! had I only my dirk, or even a
_skene-dhu_, they would be welcome." He cried aloud for aid, but the
cries were feeble, as his tongue was swollen and clove to his palate
with the keenness of his terror; and ere the echoes of his last shout
died away, he was struggling with the others, and was endeavouring to
elude their fangs by rolling over and over, and fighting fiercely with
hands and feet. Scarcely had the two wolves come to the aid of their
half-burked comrade, ere Stuart imagined that other sounds than the
echoes of his cry reverberated through the wilderness. It was--what? the
halloo of a true Highland huntsman!
"Hoigh! Diaoul! what's a' this?" cried Dugald Mhor Cameron, plunging
headlong among them, with a long dirk gleaming in his right hand and a
_skene-dhu_ in his left. One wolf fled, another was pierced thrice to
the vitals by Dugald's dirk, and rolled away for several yards, tearing
up the earth in rage and agony, until it was finally destroyed by the
sharp black knife being drawn across its thick throat by Dugald, who
handled it well, being an adroit deer-stalker. The other savage, which
had been so gallantly grasped by Ronald, he dispatched by repeated stabs
of the dirk, which he drove home to the hilt, sending eighteen inches of
cold iron into the body at every stroke. While this passed, poor
Stuart, exhausted and overcome, sank backward on the turf, just as
Fassifern rode up with his claymore drawn.
"I trust we have not been too late," he cried earnestly, as he leapt
from his horse, which had been snorting and shying aside from the scene
of the fray. "I am sure, Dugald, we answered to his first cry. He is
one of ours; an officer too,--Stuart, by heavens!"
"But for Dugald's prompt and gallant succour, all would have been over
with me by this time, colonel," said Ronald, as with difficulty he
staggered up from the turf, which was plentifully besprinkled with the
blood of his enemies.
"Are you hurt in any way?" was the eager inquiry of both.
"My hands are torn a little; but my sash and coat are all rent to
fritters."
"How opportunely Dugald came to save you!"
"Opportune, indeed! I will never be able to repay him for this night's
work."
"Ochone! Mr. Stuart," replied the old man, who was cleaning his weapons
in his plaid, "dinna say a word about thanks; keep a' them for the
kernel there."